Emily's poetry (unusually for its era )was untitled so this poem is in reality posthumously known as 822,also its four quatrain length form is very untypical of Dickinson's delightful(still popular) famous short form style .The great majority of her prolific output (for 19th century times) remained unpublished in her lifetime.No 822 has her typical 'occasional capitalisation' of nouns which does not help either visually to read & inhibits the cadence when reading aloud this somewhat morose content albeit so atypical of Emily poetics
Green gadabout, her knees grass stained.
Posthumously caretaker’s plot.
Will anyone tend to her grave?
Such lovely gardens, she refreshes.
Posthumously caretaker’s plot;
Works hard, so kind to her neighbors.
Such lovely gardens, she refreshes.
Will foul winds blow; tears wilt the soil?
Works hard, so kind to her neighbors.
Her name on a bench; a stranger.
Will foul winds blow, tears wilt the soil?
Do you hear a ghostly stirring?
Her name on a bench; a stranger.
Will anyone tend to your grave?
Do you hear a ghostly stirring -
Green gadabout, her knees grass stained…
Wrap This Around Your Metal Brains
Don’t sing along with her—
it upsets her, brings
her close friends into this.
And I’m only human, I think—
I was, or used to be anyway.
Not anymore. I stay awake,
hungry, not wanting
to eat food because
the girls and their dad have to.
I sneak down late, before sleep,
to rummage a bit—
only to be told not to eat
the food that is theirs.
I’ve adapted by losing weight.
With that came madness—
a sort of punishment.
I’m gorgeous and suffering
quietly so no one sees it,
reinforcing another solid,
popular mental illness,
by the way.
And this is my business,
my purpose: dull and witless.
Talking through this, I fear,
would scare a regular person.
I hate this.
I won’t talk to therapists.
Counseling’s out of the question.
I don’t have to pay anyone
for writing this. I don’t care.
Talking to people
I’m smarter than—
this way, one day,
when people come across this,
I’ll be the famous one.
(Posthumously.)
Tesla the inventor
an eccentric Serbian
once worked for a businessman
an entrepreneurial USAnian
when Edison had an idea bright
saw the light
and invented DC electricity
positive and ground
as found in a battery
then Nikola created AC
as used in the home
by the whole family
a contest still
a power struggle
if you will
however
Tesla the car
employs both forms of energy
as does the phonograph
so tho' posthumously
looks like Thomas had the last laugh
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed him to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Dying in the war he received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
And his great contribution to the war effort
Made amends for his past so unsavoury
When I came along I was named after him
Quite a hero I always looked up to
Before the war, a criminal known to police
After death got the recognition he was due
In an age of cheap poets and marketplace philosophers,
When words intertwine beautifully but lack depth,
My contemporaries have already given me the greatest reward,
Their indifference, their silence, heavy like a spider’s web.
In a world where applause is the echo of an illusion,
Rise those who believe themselves original,
For they have an audience that claps but does not understand,
And they do not know that true poets live only posthumously.
I wish to be a shadow in the book of time,
To write my words on dead leaves, carried by the wind,
Melancholy as my ink, and my heart as the paper,
To tell my stories in a stream of thoughts.
For what does it mean to be alive, if not to be forgotten?
To leave only a sad echo and a lost smile,
In a world of those who have eyes but do not see,
In a mechanical universe, where souls are mere cogs.
But perhaps one day, when silence will sing,
My words will bloom in the light of dusk,
And they will tell the story of those who were,
Those who wrote silence, while the world screamed.
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.
Perfectly poetic is what I propose to be
Predictable perceptions for all the world to see
Posthumously parodied a name on all your lips
Profanity prolific like sailors on the ships
Premeditated problems fixed with ire and humour
Predilected preferences are true and not a rumour
Prospective prosperity in spirit not in money
Perfection personified for rhymes that can be funny
One of our local heroes:
his record of try’s in a season
has still not been beaten.
Jack Harrison VC, MC
A Temporary Gentleman
Not really the right sort
Just a common school master
Who played professional sport,
But he was a volunteer
Not a Conscripted man
Volunteering for service
Soon after war began.
A Temporary Gentleman
Who came to the good
Charged a machine gun
And died at Oppy Wood.
Charged a machine gun
Tying down his men
They never found his body
He was never seen again.
Over there at Oppy Wood
His final try was laid
Revolver in hand
Carrying live grenade.
No body to be buried,
No remains to be found,
He just became as one with
That blood soaked ground,
.
A person of courage
A man of gallantry
Posthumously awarded
His well deserved V.C.
A Temporary Gentleman
But in truth I must confess
Not really the type to join
Any Regular Officers’ Mess.
Buoyant orange flames leap like a leopard stalking the sun. Posthumously, the mountain of smoke and ash collapsing on itself, selfishly stomping out joy, but for the Aurora Borealis, the joykill of skullduggery. Her light like song notes, tra-la-la-ing. Her beauty, unscrupulous, to the roaring volcanic beast.
northern lights
emeralds and pinks
disclosing
phantasm peaks
valleys of despair
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War One
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed him to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Killed in the war he received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
In spite of his unsavoury and unruly past
Made amends for his past so unsavoury
When I came along I was named after him
Quite a hero I always looked up to
Before the war, a burglar known to police
After death got the recognition he was due
My official name is Charles Byard Ellison
It was the work ethic that did it.
He just couldn’t get enough.
He would sit for hours and hours
Just contemplating the stuff
Until suddenly it was home time,
Getting on for half past four,
And he knew that in the morning
They'd have delivered plenty more.
After nearly a week they found him
Slouched dead in his swivel chair;
He'd been hidden by all the work
Piled up in mountains there.
They gave him a long service medal
Posthumously I should think
And following his last wishes scattered
His ashes by his favourite old golf link.
Thus an illustrious career was ended
Without a hint of any shame
For the company couldn't afford
Any slurs to be cast on its name.
And all the work that he'd not started?
They just shovelled into a bin
Knowing if any was important
A client would write again
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Died in the war, received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
A sad end to his heroic efforts during the war
Making amends for a past unsavoury
When I was born I was named after him
His exploits made him my hero!
.
No doubt
God looks after
Even sin city- Vegas
From oldest profession;
Politics’ newest victim;
Brothel King: Dennis Hof
.
When comes to profession
Prostitution is the oldest
Politics or pimping is next
(I disagree with Charles III)
So what is the context ?
In Vegas...
A pimp wins the election
But, it is after his death .
.
What happens in Vegas..
Stays in Vegas...as said
.
The celebrity pimp got seduced
by guess what..Politics
and got consumed
But after winning...
Never a loser - Dennis Hof..
He turned out to be a good cock
.
Guess his guardian angels told him
Hof, Stay here...don’t move
You happened in Vegas. you stay in Vegas
We invested in a pimp. Politics is a bad bet
Many think this holiday honors all United States presidents we elect
But let me reflect
It is Washington’s birthday that we celebrate
It honors President Washington and President Lincoln as of late
Let’s see how they relate
Washington was a good ol’ lad
He was the best that America had
Unanimously elected to commander in chief
He gave colonists some hope and belief
Posthumously, promoted to a six-star general
That will forever remain unattainable
Presided over the Constitution writing
That must have been rather exciting
Unanimously elected as our first president for two terms
To which he affirms
Relinquishing his power
Setting a precedent for every successor
Lincoln was a prominent figure
During the Civil War
Another commander in chief
With a strong belief
His Emancipation Proclamation
To end slavery in our nation
He met his untimely demise
By a Confederate that did not sympathize
Both of these men deserve a day
For creating the country we know today
Though it is not perfect in any way
America is where I want to stay!
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