Entry 47: The place where the missing years were kept. Referenced in several dreams but never located. Witnesses disagree whether it was a room, a season, or a river. Its absence remains unusually well preserved.
I traced old roads
through sleep,
past mile markers
erased by weather.
Something
had gone on living
without me.
At dawn,
the map contained
one less horizon.
tiny stars
are pin pricks
in a gray-green
gloaming
and we see
a maiden with
sleek, dark, bobbed hair
sitting atop
a lake -
her billowed
long burgundy gown
f l o w i n g
like the swan
attached by a leash
to the girl’s
slender fingers
its loveliness
reflecting in
aqua water
the moon
is a long white sliver
slicing through
the young maid’s gown
like an unusually
large parenthesis mark
to the left
half-caressing her
in twilight’s
enchantment
Oh, bright moon
of grace -
glide along with her
as the white swan
slides besides her
guiding her
through this night
of tranquil
delight
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popular) famous short form style .The great majority of her prolific output (for 19th century times) remained unpublished in her lifetime.No 822 has her typical 'occasional capitalisation' of nouns which does not help either visually to read & inhibits the cadence when reading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
This Moment
Silence echoes a hum: listening for a whisper in static.
That rests away beyond the mountain path, at waterfalls,
Edge. While moving back and forth, in a loss for a listener.
Muteness then becomes obscure.
On the shore that was silent;
As silence in sounds now echoed, but only felt.
Softly in the atmosphere.
Became more curious while anticipating even the faintest
White noise. In search of a hidden cove.
Dotting between places unusually.
In that moment, imagine, imagine!
If you could?
Simulated realms appear between sounds and air.
Inner motion, it's like kissing someone else, or what remains.
Memories of those soundscapes while embracing a new soundscape.
To this moment, it's quiet.
DISEMBODIED GRAPHICS
reminders
of
impermanence
inspired
beleagured
&summoning
apprehension
in
oblivious
symmetry
uncanny
a
dreamlike
affinity
magnetically
formed
within
an
unattributed
enclave
energetic
reminiscent
explosive
coherent
surreptitious
pulsating
captivating
. glistening
prismatic
miniature
unusually
complementing
engulfed
in
a
beguiling
innovation
glowing
vaporously
a
fantastical
whimscal
reverie
transient
understated
with
eccentric
graceful
simplicity
Aunt Edna’s cauldron was full of elixir green and high
I’m making myself a date, a wonderful, attentive guy.
The rest of us snickered at her unusually clever wit.
But in a few hours she had created a man named Chit.
Chit was the perfect date; he laughed at every joke.
Patted her back when he thought she might choke.
Kept quiet unless Aunt Edna squeezed his head.
Make me one too said her sister, I’ll call him Ted.
HOMAGE TO OTHERNESS
cultural
preserves
in
ambitious
secondary
reproductions
& reservations
imitate
the
inevitable
thematic
choices
with
distinctive
paraphrased
oblique
adaptations
apparently
& unusually
plausibly
unadulterated
yet
conspicuous
focussed
perceptions
augmentative
detached sophisticated
mirrored vitality
abstract faces
unusually orientated
her parents were hard of hearing but refused to wear aids
making Miss Polly the loudest croc in the everglade
we swamp people knew she was coming every single time
not only was she unusually loud, but she tended to wheeze and whine.
I am not Gladys Kravitz, she says
I have no idea why my neighbors call me that
We are on the phone
I am half-listening while she yaps
What is Robert doing out there? She says.
Her voice sounds unusually high.
Ellen is out there too! What are they doing?
I know all of her neighbors’ names; these are two of them.
You should go find out, I say.
No, she says, I’m not going over there.
I have already been over there twice today
to run off somebody wanting to trim trees
and somebody wanting to invite them to church
In one short day, the weather changed
From dark to bright and rearranged
Our attitudes and clothes we wear
To fit the hours, foul or fair.
It started out with quite a storm
But temps unusually warm,
As rain ran riot ‘cross the road
And lawns turned into puddle mode.
The winds whipped wildly; from each tree
The squirrels scampered crazily.
Umbrellas, often such a perk,
On days like this, don’t really work.
As hours passed by, with me inside,
The rain decided to subside
And then the wind slowed down, as well,
For good, as far as I could tell.
The sun peeked out, for just a while.
I got my walk in, with a smile,
But heading back, dark clouds appeared,
This fickle weather really weird.
And now tonight, some thunder struck
And raindrops we will have to duck.
Tomorrow, I can just surmise,
Will bring another new surprise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a crazy squirrel named Charlie
Whose furry paws were unusually teensy-weensy
With his chainsaw well-greased and quite small
(Can you believe it? It was just two inches tall!)
With it, he secretly carved pumpkins with great savvy.
His masterpiece? An orange, gourd-grinning fright!
With bat-wings, witches, and such for Halloween night.
The owl, most perplexed, said "That pumpkin’s absurd!"
Charlie snarled, "I’m an artist. Haven't you heard?”
Creativity and power tools make my jack-o'-lanterns outta sight!”
Inexplicably silent in choir
being unusually quiet
not a word from me was heard
neither spoken nor sung
so as not to cause a riot
when jibes bad vibes at me were slung
and I was asked, 'Cat got your tongue?'
I replied, 'Here's the thing,
really and truly, I cannot sing,
it's been this way for all my years,
whatever it is I appear to hear,
and between my ears to me audibly sits,
tho' quite right there, when on the tongue's tip,
it's not the same music my mouth emits.'
Mother Nature makes little piglets and lambs
We humans slaughter them for mutton and ham
Lest you think mankind unusually cruel
Ponder what lions and tigers do for their fuel
what's not to love!
I'm fun and I'm quirky
unusually charming
I like to be happy
and it doesn't take much
a kind word a warm smile
from a guy who's got love in his heart
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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