Dickinson Poems - Poems about Dickinson

Faith is the thing with callow feet— That tiptoes on thin air— It keeps no calendar or creed— Yet finds me unaware. It does not knock—it does not plead— But settles in the soul— A hush, more firm than any church— A bell without a toll. It drinks the dew from shadowed grass— It sings beneath the snow— And when the sky forgets to speak— It’s...

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after Because I could not stop for Death, by Emily Dickinson Because I would not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me. A wilted bouquet in one hand— a reminder of life's mortality. We began to walk—he knew no haste— side by side, as we always were. In silence, no sympathies were spoken, as he knew I often preferred. We passed the house...

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She passed away upon a day Where silence lie in sullen vein Where whispered notions plant a seed Of all the words penned in belief Hoping a man would come to see A well lit road clear and free To find tranquility within a psalms To cry aloud a remembered song And through the ages to live again Her spirit arise Through lofty...

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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...

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I have a problem with my eyes Being bigger than my brain. I mean I have a weakness Of owning more books than water makes rain. I purchase them by the dozen Whenever they’re on sale, At the local bookstore I buy them galore Smiling inside without hesitation or fail. No subject too large or near too small As...

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A little eye not made by man, all woman seem to have. Available to none but honey bees. Clinging to the rose are butterflies. If only screens were made of wax back then. And then tomorrow comes. I hear a voice inside my head that says. Honey sweet cornbread is made each day....

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Emily Dickinson was her name To her – poetry wasn’t a game She lived & loved through verse & rhyme Her words will flow through all of time....

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She wrote of storms, and winds, and wild March skies, Sunsets and dawns, gardens and lawns, And birds, and bees, and butterflies. The first robin of Spring gave her reason for hope Beyond crowning of monarch, or birthday of pope. And she wrote of the seasons with a delicate flair, Like the leaves turning red in Fall's altered air. Her human friends...

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Crowned poet, posthumous Queen of the private world, you explored every subtlety of the soul and mapped the wonder of existence to its last drawn breath. What price did you pay deep in your alabaster chambers, charting the course of a nameless presence stretched across eternity, giving it a home in the exquisite vessel of your words....

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1. You walk around all day trying to think of unusual words that rhyme and new things to say. 2. You spend too much time online or in bookstores looking for poetry and other books that make you feel or think that you, too might become a famous, published poet. 3. You believe and tell...

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Upon the rising trail of moonlight I seek the port in you— a crook of ivory skin, an elbow to moor my soul inside Just as that once lonely moon upon a field of black does kiss and fondle gently the flowing ebon tide...

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Emily Dickinson 'MY LETTER TO THE WORLD' EMAIL TEXT FROM EMILY D TO EVERYONE SUBJECT:...

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I cannot help but feel afraid As I approach my final days For what will happen when I'm gone? Will life go on, or simply fade? The world moves forward, ever on In spite of all the pain and strife It cares not for my fleeting breath Or for the end of my own life But though I fear what lies ahead I cannot...

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I know I cannot be the only one who reads Emily D. just for fun! Quotes her feathery Hope poem Understands it's ok not to roam Not thinking her a fuddy-duddy But rather, a true bosom buddy Wished to taste her gingerbread Wants to meet when we're dead Considers her a kindred spirit :) Imitates her style (or-- near it)!...

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