Babies and Bath Water

About nine months ago, before I came to Piedmont, my Dad and I were having a conversation. I don't remember what about, but somewhere in there I remember him looking at me and saying "Erin, don't throw the baby out with the bath water."


I cracked up.


He swears that he has used the term thousands of time within my life, and yet I cannot recall ever hearing it before.


I wouldn't necessarily call it a good craft, being a simple, (apparently) overused idiom, but I believe there is an age-old insight to glean in the statement. I think the most important aspect of a word craft is for it to be truthful. Placing flowery speech and words that sound intriguing indepent of sentance structure above the content of a statement will not hold the weight intended.
By not "throwing the baby out", we learn that sometimes, the good is young and needs development- but does not require being thrown out with the waste that surrounds. It's like editing.

Poetic Songs

Learn How to Fight
Besides Daniel

If it's time that you want , if it's space that you need,
Then darling go find it that all right by me
I'll be building a house that you may never see
I'll be working my hands to the bone
I'll be working my hands to the bone
Just know that you have the respect you deserve
As you cling to your courage, in your efforts to serve
The convictions you hold, from the lessons you learned
As you whispered that I'd be alright
And that I needed to learn how to fight for you
So whenever you come back from wherever you roam
I'll be building a house that just might be our home
I'll be working my hands to the bone
I'll be working my hands to the bone.
The most beautiful thing that I ever have seen
was the face of my lover as she turned to leave
And she kissed me as if she was some sort of queen
And I suddenly realized she was
And what a fool I have been with her love
And some how I think If I can write enough songs
I can win back the time and the thing I've done wrong
And you'll hear one one day and you'll admit you belong
Here with me in the house that I've made
Cause this bed's way too big for me anyway
So whenever you come back from wherever you roam
I'll be building a house that just might be our home
I'll be working my hands to the bone
I'll be working my hands to the bone
If you see her in Ireland with her hands way up high
Know that she is songbird whose longing to fly
Don't cage her unless you just want her to die
Darling it's time to be free, thanks for making a man out of me
So love if you come out one of the shows
And you hear me still strumming this old song alone
know that I saved you your old microphone
And I have finally learned how to fight
And you can tell me that you are all right
So whenever you come back from wherever you roam
I'll be building a house that just might be our home
I'll be working my hands to the bone
I'll be working my hands to the bone
If you find a love who does what I could not do
As your discover yourself while you toil through school
Cast your memory back to the fool that is working his hands to the bone...
I'll be working my hands to the bone




I believe that this song achieves the level of poetry in so many ways.
Here is a list I have formulated of some things that I believe makes great poetry and that this particular song acquires.
1) It's Honest. There is no "hidden love." Just an unmasked, unhindered expression of this situation and the writer's emotions that follow- without using the word "unmasked."
2) It uses language in context. Not only representing the time, audience, and writer well, this song uses concise thoughts and doesn't waste words.
3) It takes a simple scenario, and makes it unique. And at the same time, it takes one man's story and makes it universal; when listening, the audience knows exactly what he is talking about.


It's not crazy, or eloquent, but it's truth. And truth is the most convincing argument, in life and in poetry.