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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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Going. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

On such a night, or such a night,    Would anybody care    If such a little figure    Slipped quiet from its chair,     So quiet, oh, how quiet!    That nobody might…

September 20, 2019
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Going To Heaven! By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Going to heaven!    I don’t know when,    Pray do not ask me how, —    Indeed, I ‘m too astonished    To think of answering you!    Going to heaven! —    How dim it…

September 20, 2019
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Given In Marriage Unto Thee, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Given in marriage unto thee,    Oh, thou celestial host!    Bride of the Father and the Son,    Bride of the Holy Ghost!     Other betrothal shall dissolve,    Wedlock of will decay;    Only…

September 20, 2019
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Ghosts. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,    One need not be a house;    The brain has corridors surpassing    Material place.     Far safer, of a midnight meeting    External…

September 20, 2019
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From The Chrysalis. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

My cocoon tightens, colors tease,    I’m feeling for the air;    A dim capacity for wings    Degrades the dress I wear.     A power of butterfly must be    The aptitude to…

September 20, 2019
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Fringed Gentian. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  God made a little gentian;    It tried to be a rose    And failed, and all the summer laughed.    But just before the snows    There came a purple creature    That ravished…

September 20, 2019
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Friends. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Are friends delight or pain?    Could bounty but remain    Riches were good.     But if they only stay    Bolder to fly away,    Riches are sad.

September 20, 2019
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Frequently The Woods Are Pink, By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Frequently the woods are pink,    Frequently are brown;    Frequently the hills undress    Behind my native town.     Oft a head is crested    I was wont to see,    And as oft a…

September 20, 2019
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Forgotten. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

There is a word    Which bears a sword    Can pierce an armed man.    It hurls its barbed syllables,–    At once is mute again.    But where it fell    The saved will tell    On…

September 20, 2019
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Forbidden Fruit. II. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Heaven is what I cannot reach!    The apple on the tree,    Provided it do hopeless hang,    That ‘heaven’ is, to me.     The color on the cruising cloud,    The interdicted…

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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