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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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A Man. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    Fate slew him, but he did not drop;    She felled — he did not fall —    Impaled him on her fiercest stakes —    He neutralized them all.     She…

September 20, 2019
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A Light Exists In Spring By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  A light exists in spring    Not present on the year    At any other period.    When March is scarcely here     A color stands abroad    On solitary hills    That science cannot overtake,    But…

September 20, 2019
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A Dew Sufficed Itself By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  A dew sufficed itself    And satisfied a leaf,    And felt, ‘how vast a destiny!    How trivial is life!’     The sun went out to work,    The day went out to…

September 20, 2019
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A Death-Blow Is A Life-Blow To Some By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

   A death-blow is a life-blow to some    Who, till they died, did not alive become;    Who, had they lived, had died, but when    They died, vitality begun.

September 20, 2019
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A Day. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  I’ll tell you how the sun rose, —    A ribbon at a time.    The steeples swam in amethyst,    The news like squirrels ran.     The hills untied their bonnets,    The…

September 20, 2019
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A Country Burial. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Ample make this bed.    Make this bed with awe;    In it wait till judgment break    Excellent and fair.     Be its mattress straight,    Be its pillow round;    Let no sunrise’ yellow…

September 20, 2019
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A Clock Stopped — Not The Mantel’s; By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 A Clock Stopped — Not The Mantel’s;    Geneva’s farthest skill    Can’t put the puppet bowing    That just now dangled still.     An awe came on the trinket!    The figures hunched…

September 20, 2019
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A Charm Invests A Face By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

A charm invests a face    Imperfectly beheld, —    The lady dare not lift her veil    For fear it be dispelled.     But peers beyond her mesh,    And wishes, and denies,…

September 20, 2019
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A Book. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    There is no frigate like a book    To take us lands away,    Nor any coursers like a page    Of prancing poetry.    This traverse may the poorest take    Without oppress of…

September 20, 2019
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A Book. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    He ate and drank the precious words,    His spirit grew robust;    He knew no more that he was poor,    Nor that his frame was dust.    He danced along the…

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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