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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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“I Asked No Other Thing,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    I asked no other thing,    No other was denied.    I offered Being for it;    The mighty merchant smiled.     Brazil? He twirled a button,    Without a glance my way:    “But, madam,…

September 20, 2019
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“Have You Got A Brook In Your Little Heart,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Have you got a brook in your little heart,    Where bashful flowers blow,    And blushing birds go down to drink,    And shadows tremble so?     And nobody knows, so…

September 20, 2019
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“Glee! The Great Storm Is Over!” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  Glee! The great storm is over!    Four have recovered the land;    Forty gone down together    Into the boiling sand.     Ring, for the scant salvation!    Toll, for the bonnie souls,…

September 20, 2019
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“Delight Becomes Pictorial” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

   Delight becomes pictorial    When viewed through pain, —    More fair, because impossible    That any gain.     The mountain at a given distance    In amber lies;    Approached, the amber flits a little,…

September 20, 2019
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“Belshazzar Had A Letter,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Belshazzar had a letter, —    He never had but one;    Belshazzar’s correspondent    Concluded and begun    In that immortal copy    The conscience of us all    Can read without its glasses    On revelation’s wall.

September 20, 2019
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“As Children Bid The Guest Good-Night,” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    As children bid the guest good-night,    And then reluctant turn,    My flowers raise their pretty lips,    Then put their nightgowns on.     As children caper when they wake,    Merry that…

September 20, 2019
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“Angels In The Early Morning” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

   Angels in the early morning    May be seen the dews among,    Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:    Do the buds to them belong?     Angels when the sun is hottest    May be…

September 20, 2019
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“Alter? When The Hills Do” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Alter? When the hills do.    Falter? When the sun    Question if his glory    Be the perfect one.     Surfeit? When the daffodil    Doth of the dew:    Even as herself, O friend!    I…

September 20, 2019
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In May

After spending a night, Sleepless they go Outside to face The veiled morning lift.   They drag their feet Through the streets, Over the bridges,…

April 27, 2017April 28, 2017
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Poesia Poetry Manifesto

** Klunkerkranich is a bar in Berlin. Sammy and Vera reunited in Berlin in October for one night. They went to a bar with their friend…

October 24, 2016October 25, 2016

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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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