Amherst Poems | Examples

December 10th, 1830

December 10th, 1830
 Born Dec. 10th, 1830.
 Beautiful poetry.
 E.E.D.
 Lived in solitary.
 Known for so many poems.
 From Amherst, Massachusetts.
 Her life is isolated.
 Had one brother and one sister.
 Greatest poet ever lived.
 Emily Dickenson.
 Passed away on May 15th, 1886. (age 55)
 One faded picture.
 Over 1,000 poems.
 Vigorous writer in the shadows.

A Letter to Emily Dickinson

Dear Emily, 'the Recluse of Amherst'

In my university days, you burned in me 
As a dazzling flame of endless inspiration.
As I sit to write to you, your soul in its depth I see
And it speaks to me, still giving endless motivation.

Your concise and crisp musings, penned years ago,
Continue to light poetic sparks in my soul.
Your poetry is like a whispered secret still aglow
As a recluse, you hid yourself. From the crowd you stole.

Your poems give a glimpse into the workings of your heart
Your thoughts, bold and subtle speaks directly to me.
As I think of you, through my mind, emotions of awe dart.
Staying aloof, you watched nature and animals closely.

In your poems, you elevated the mundane to the sublime.
‘If I could Stop one Heart from Breaking’_
This poem, stays immortal in all time.
Your musings on life and nature are breathtaking.

Dear Emily, you shouldn’t have hidden your light,
Like a lamp under the bushel. Sad, your poems you buried,
Abhorrent of publicity, but posthumously came into limelight.
Now across oceans and tides, they are avidly ferried.

Letter to fav poet Emily

Dear Emily,

In the quiet of Amherst, your words still bloom,
"Hope is the thing with feathers," you penned in your room.
Your verses, like the breeze, traverse time's vast sea,
Yet, dear Emily, a suggestion from me.

Your solitude crafted such delicate lines,
But what if your thoughts had danced in the pines?
Among the living, where laughter is heard,
Would your quill have captured a different word?

"Tell all the truth but tell it slant," you advised,
Yet in life's full extent, what truths might arise?
Step out, dear poet, from your reclusive shade,
And let the world's full spectrum in your ink cascade.

"I dwell in Possibility," you wrote with such grace,
But what if possibility had a different face?
Beyond the confines of your homely retreat,
Could your verses have found a more vibrant beat?

Dear Emily, your legacy, tender and grand,
Forever will echo through time's shifting sand.
Yet, I wonder, if you had fulfilled the world's hue,
What new shades of truth might have blossomed through you?

Shadows Fall Distant

Late September holds onto the summer
  like that promise you made
    —you can never forget

Late September holds onto the summer
  as shadows fall distant
    —and memory regrets

(Amherst Massachusetts- September, 2013)

Revive

1.  Always aspiring to authentic answers
2.  Belief begins, only to end
3.  Calls the crow, 'never, to'
4.  Drifting like October leaves
5.  Falling upwards, death is alive
6.  Gargling, bleating, cawing birth
7.  Haul the young into the hall
8.  Jaded cribs reluctantly nurse
9.  Lemon-sour hope gently sweetened
10. May's pastel caress heals yesterday's recall
11. Once, seasons ... now regrown faith
12. Promises to breach, ideas to rebuild
13. Returning the world not unreal, the
14. White Witch of Amherst guiding through
15. Young hearts revive again.

for A Litany of Poetry Devices contest

1. alliteration 2. internal rhyme 3. allusion 4. simile 5. oxymoron 6. onomatopoeia 7. homphone 8. personification 9. metaphor 10. assonance 11. ellipsis 12. antithesis 13. litote 14. metonymy 15. synecdoche 

also written in ABC form.

Spring Hope For Northhampton

A birds joyous flutter of early May grand,
          bulbs pop yellow heads, from green woken land.
          Crickets and peepers work second shift chatter,
          as a voice out of Boston, announces next batter.
          It`s Springtime in Amherst, Smith girls in light sweaters.
          Where Emily penned hope, as the thing with feathers.

Weather Fun

WEATHER   FUN

You can’t control weather at the Pole;
But Thule as a rule is always quite cool. 

You’ll hate Scottish weather - it’s never really hottish,
And the climate in Chile you’ll always find  chilly.

It’s true - Spanish snow can soon vanish;
But in Spain, rain stays (- mainly in the plain.)

Find mists in Turkey - they may be sometimes murky.
Seek the dampness of mireland - it’s famous in Ireland.

But your worst event may be to have spent Lent in Kent;
To have been cursed first with thirst in Amherst; 

Or having to meet sleet in the street in Crete;
Or worse yet, to abet a  debt in wet Tibet.

Late September

Late September holds onto the summer,
  like that promise you made,
  —you can never forget

Late September holds onto the summer,
  as shadows fall distant,
   —and memory regrets

(Train: Amherst Massachusetts- September, 2013)

Don'T Mess With the Vixens

On the day you announced we would closed
no one truly understood
now here we stand tried and true
together we will all push through
we'll teach you to mess with us
the Vixen girls of Sweet Briar U.S.

#savesweetbriar
we will reign against financial rust
we will stand tall for the 
strong girl in all of us
so save our school
help us out

we found or voice we found our school
we'll teach you how to mess with socialites
and our iron clad wills
you taught us to think to dream
now we're strong a Vixen to one and all
save our school, help Amherst out
Sweet Briar College shall live I have not doubt
we'll teach you to mess with Vixens
Please just help us win
pledge some money
let the school win
so little girls can come when I'm old
Please this is my poetry plead

For Carol

Oh, how do I love thee Soup, count the ways
you resuscitate me on many days!
When skies are black and the ground is muddy
I come to the Soup to find my buddies.
The close allegiance of my friends worldwide
brings a smile to my lips, tears I can't hide.
You are there, all of you, I'm not alone
if I'm sad many ring me by the phone!
What more could one ask on the internet
but company of those who are their get.

http://www3.amherst.edu/~rjyanco94/literature/elizabethbarrettbrowning/poems/sonnetsfromtheportuguese/howdoilovetheeletmecounttheways.html

Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 1/22/12
*Carol who is the framework from whose kind heart all
recieve support!

Untitled

Whilst in Massachusetts,
Amherst to be precise,
We watched the flickering fire flies
As lighting crossed the skies
And thoughts of writings past.

DEAR EMILY

Come a lady 
     walk with me,
Come a dear 
      as poets be,
Trading words
      of rhyming things,
Thoughts of birds
       preening wings
String moments 
      as beads or pearls
In a necklace 
      from other worlds.

Emily Dickinson

A recluse nicknamed ‘nun of Amherst
Wrote rhymes about death, faith and curse
‘Springfield Republican’ cleaved her mind
Where thoughts are joined you will find
‘Hope is the thing with feathers’
Where sweetest sound of gale is heard
She left an indelible mark on most
Who felt her depth and got engrossed
In life she didn’t get much recognition
Her poems surpassed every mission
‘I asked no other thing’
Gave a reason for being 
In spite of unfavourable reviews and scepticism
She never let go of life’s schism
She died at a very tender age
And the world still suffers from her passage

The Belle of Amherst

Alone, You lived, my dearest friend--
all the days were seldom kind,
the world, to you seemed blind
yet in your works I do find,
sincerity end to end.

You gave us pauses--stresses too--
lines that questioned a callous life,
verses, unfinished, that are rife
with similes like a sharpened knife,
even your lies are true.

The Brain is wider than the Sky
to quote you in the least,
wondrous death would be your feast
the eternal fall of man and beast,
your words can never die.

You and I, we are the same--
shunning the dullness of prose
a heavy heart that no one knows,
existence connected through our woes,
we are both to blame.

Your tone, does not confuse me,
your titles, truly, never miss
you seal each line with a kiss
faith, bleeds in restful bliss--

Tell the horseman that we'll be,
two in the carriage towards eternity.

There Was a Young Poet From Amherst

There was a young poet from Amherst,
Who planned to marry Vince Pankwurst.
They made vows to wed,
But soon Vince was dead,
For the bell of the town hit him head first.

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