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Mad for Poetry

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.

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Author: Samantha Evans

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Charlotte Bronte’S Grave. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  All overgrown by cunning moss,    All interspersed with weed,    The little cage of ‘Currer Bell,’    In quiet Haworth laid.     This bird, observing others,    When frosts too sharp became,    Retire to…

September 20, 2019
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Called Back. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Just lost when I was saved!    Just felt the world go by!    Just girt me for the onset with eternity,    When breath blew back,    And on the other side    I…

September 20, 2019
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By The Sea. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I started early, took my dog,    And visited the sea;    The mermaids in the basement    Came out to look at me,     And frigates in the upper floor    Extended hempen…

September 20, 2019
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Bless God, He Went As Soldiers, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Bless God, he went as soldiers,    His musket on his breast;    Grant, God, he charge the bravest    Of all the martial blest.     Please God, might I behold him    In…

September 20, 2019
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Bequest. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

You left me, sweet, two legacies, —    A legacy of love    A Heavenly Father would content,    Had He the offer of;     You left me boundaries of pain    Capacious as…

September 20, 2019
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Before The Ice Is In The Pools, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Before the ice is in the pools,    Before the skaters go,    Or any cheek at nightfall    Is tarnished by the snow,     Before the fields have finished,    Before the Christmas…

September 20, 2019
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Beclouded. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,    A travelling flake of snow    Across a barn or through a rut    Debates if it will go.     A narrow wind…

September 20, 2019
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Autumn. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,    The nuts are getting brown;    The berry’s cheek is plumper,    The rose is out of town.     The maple wears a gayer…

September 20, 2019
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Aurora. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Of bronze and blaze    The north, to-night!    So adequate its forms,    So preconcerted with itself,    So distant to alarms, —    An unconcern so sovereign    To universe, or me,    It paints my simple…

September 20, 2019
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At Length. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Her final summer was it,    And yet we guessed it not;    If tenderer industriousness    Pervaded her, we thought     A further force of life    Developed from within, —    When Death lit…

September 20, 2019

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Mad For Poetry

Mad For Poetry

Poesia Poetry Journal! Have a Read.

  • Issue #1 – Mad for Poetry / Pazzi per la Poesia

Mad for Poetry

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