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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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It’s All I Have To Bring To-Day, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

It’S All I Have To Bring To-Day,    This, and my heart beside,    This, and my heart, and all the fields,    And all the meadows wide.    Be sure you count,…

September 23, 2019
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It Was Too Late For Man, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 It was too late for man,    But early yet for God;    Creation impotent to help,    But prayer remained our side.     How excellent the heaven,    When earth cannot be had;    How…

September 23, 2019
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It Was Not Death, For I Stood Up, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 It was not death, for I stood up,    And all the dead lie down;    It was not night, for all the bells    Put out their tongues, for noon….

September 23, 2019
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It Can’t Be Summer, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

It can’t be summer, — that got through;    It ‘s early yet for spring;    There ‘s that long town of white to cross    Before the blackbirds sing.     It…

September 23, 2019
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Is Bliss, Then, Such Abyss By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 Is bliss, then, such abyss    I must not put my foot amiss    For fear I spoil my shoe?     I’d rather suit my foot    Than save my boot,    For yet…

September 23, 2019
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Invisible. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 From us she wandered now a year,    Her tarrying unknown;    If wilderness prevent her feet,    Or that ethereal zone     No eye hath seen and lived,    We ignorant must be.    We…

September 23, 2019
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Indian Summer. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

These are the days when birds come back,    A very few, a bird or two,    To take a backward look.     These are the days when skies put…

September 23, 2019
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In Vain. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I CANNOT live with you,    It would be life,    And life is over there    Behind the shelf     The sexton keeps the key to,    Putting up    Our life, his porcelain,    Like a…

September 23, 2019
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In The Garden. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 A bird came down the walk:    He did not know I saw;    He bit an angle-worm in halves    And ate the fellow, raw.     And then he drank a…

September 23, 2019
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In Shadow. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

I dreaded that first robin so,    But he is mastered now,    And I ‘m accustomed to him grown, —    He hurts a little, though.     I thought if I…

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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