Finals: a series of haiku

So it's the end of the semester yet again, and finals week has given us all a pretty good run for our money. In honor of finals week coming to its close, I have decided to compose a series of haiku.
In other news the line for the testing center apparently stretched past the JSB, the Eyring, the SWKT, and even past the JFSB. For those of you who aren't familiar with BYU campus, that's about a 3-hour wait to get in and take a test.
As of 8:30, it was still out by the Eyring. That's a solid hour and a half at least.
Without further ado, a series of haiku.


Finals week is done.
What am I supposed to do
With all this free time?

"School's out for summer!"
My neighbors shout at twilight.
Parties will be had.

Testing Center line:
I don't think it was your fault.
You don't put tests off.

Eight cans of Red Bull,
Twenty pages of research,
Four tests, and I die.

Procrastination
Is the mother of hard work.
Who is the father?

Nature breeds success.
Nature chooses to select.
Nature's always right.

Water cuts through rock
Only with persistent flow.
May we work the same.

During the Spring term
I relax, enjoy the sun,
And get my work done.

Life and Death

Just some thinkin' words.

Life and Death

by Ethan Unklesbay

Of life and death two things are sure

And these are death and life.

Around them we decide we are

Of happiness or strife

Of life there is a markéd start

As well as is the markéd finish

Of death we see but entrance that

Is often marked with great panache

Of life and death, are many things

That I am never sure.

Is it in life or death we choose

To live or die the more?

Borrowed Time

Things aren't getting any easier. A friend of mine went missing in August 2011, and her remains were found today. It came as a shock, and this is very sad and painful. There is consolation in knowing that the story has come to a close, and nobody has to keep searching anymore. However, the world has lost another wonderfully happy light. To quote my brother-in-law, "She was an excellent student who brought great personality to the class. Her argumentative essay on the dangers of the automatic flushing toilet was a classic..."

The words of this song came to mind, reminding me that all of us are here on borrowed time, and then when it's time to go, we won't go "further than God/ and God is very near."


Borrowed Time
by Leahy

Come and sit here by my side
For our time will soon be gone
And these tears I cannot hide
For it's your turn to move on
I know you were never really mine
You were given to me
On borrowed time
Now I shall stay here on my own
For I know you've been
Called home

Turn out the light
And let me love you
One more night
Hold me tight
Tell me everything
Is gonna be alright

Now I know I must be strong
For what else can I do
Won't be easy to go on
For I must learn to live
Without you
I know that life cannot be bought
And there's nothing I should fear
For you'll go no further than God
And God is very near

Turn out the light
And let me love you
One more night
Hold me tight
Tell me everything
Is gonna be alright

Now it's time to let go
It's just part of the plan
So many answers we don't know
But some day we'll understand
Someday

Turn out the light
And let me love you
One more night
Hold me tight
Tell me everything
Is gonna be
Alright

Do not go gentle into that good night

A friend of mine died recently. Its interesting to read this poem in the wake of the passing of a girl who certainly did not go gentle into the night. Her passing was gentle and calm, but she did not go into the night. "Rage, rage against the dying of the light" explains how she went. She kept her light alive even after her body was not. She keeps her light alive, and she blazes like a meteor against the dark night sky.

This poem reminds me of my friend and inspires me to shine as she did.

Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.