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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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Rouge Gagne. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    ‘T is so much joy! ‘T is so much joy!    If I should fail, what poverty!    And yet, as poor as I    Have ventured all upon a throw;    Have…

September 23, 2019
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Rouge Et Noir. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    Soul, wilt thou toss again?    By just such a hazard    Hundreds have lost, indeed,    But tens have won an all.     Angels’ breathless ballot    Lingers to record thee;    Imps in eager…

September 23, 2019
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Returning. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    I years had been from home,    And now, before the door,    I dared not open, lest a face    I never saw before     Stare vacant into mine    And ask my…

September 23, 2019
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Retrospect. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    ‘T was just this time last year I died.    I know I heard the corn,    When I was carried by the farms, —    It had the tassels on….

September 23, 2019
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Reticence. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    The reticent volcano keeps    His never slumbering plan;    Confided are his projects pink    To no precarious man.     If nature will not tell the tale    Jehovah told to her,    Can human…

September 23, 2019
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Resurrection. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    ‘T was a long parting, but the time    For interview had come;    Before the judgment-seat of God,    The last and second time     These fleshless lovers met,    A heaven in…

September 23, 2019
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Resurgam. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    At last to be identified!    At last, the lamps upon thy side,    The rest of life to see!    Past midnight, past the morning star!    Past sunrise! Ah! what leagues…

September 23, 2019
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Requiem. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    Taken from men this morning,    Carried by men to-day,    Met by the gods with banners    Who marshalled her away.     One little maid from playmates,    One little mind from school,…

September 23, 2019
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Renunciation. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    There came a day at summer’s full    Entirely for me;    I thought that such were for the saints,    Where revelations be.     The sun, as common, went abroad,    The flowers,…

September 23, 2019
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Remorse. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    Remorse is memory awake,    Her companies astir, —    A presence of departed acts    At window and at door.     It’s past set down before the soul,    And lighted with a…

September 23, 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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