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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 Gained It So, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I gained it so,    By climbing slow,    By catching at the twigs that grow    Between the bliss and me.    It hung so high,    As well the sky    Attempt by strategy.     I…

September 20, 2019
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I Found The Phrase To Every Thought By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

   I found the phrase to every thought    I ever had, but one;    And that defies me, — as a hand    Did try to chalk the sun     To races…

September 20, 2019
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I Felt A Funeral In My Brain, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I felt a funeral in my brain,    And mourners, to and fro,    Kept treading, treading, till it seemed    That sense was breaking through.     And when they all were…

September 20, 2019
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I Died For Beauty, But Was Scarce By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 I died for beauty, but was scarce    Adjusted in the tomb,    When one who died for truth was lain    In an adjoining room.     He questioned softly why I…

September 20, 2019
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I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

I bring an unaccustomed wine    To lips long parching, next to mine,    And summon them to drink.     Crackling with fever, they essay;    I turn my brimming eyes away,    And…

September 20, 2019
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I Breathed Enough To Learn The Trick, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  I breathed enough to learn the trick,    And now, removed from air,    I simulate the breath so well,    That one, to be quite sure     The lungs are stirless,…

September 20, 2019
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Hunger. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

I had been hungry all the years;    My noon had come, to dine;    I, trembling, drew the table near,    And touched the curious wine.     ‘T was this on…

September 20, 2019
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How Still The Bells In Steeples Stand, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    How still the bells in steeples stand,    Till, swollen with the sky,    They leap upon their silver feet    In frantic melody!

September 20, 2019
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How Dare The Robins Sing, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

How dare the robins sing,    When men and women hear    Who since they went to their account    Have settled with the year! —    Paid all that life had earned    In…

September 20, 2019
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Hope. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Hope is a subtle glutton;    He feeds upon the fair;    And yet, inspected closely,    What abstinence is there!     His is the halcyon table    That never seats but one,    And whatsoever…

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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