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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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Tag: Emily Dickinson

Categories Poem

The Return. By Emily Dickinson

    Though I get home how late, how late!    So I get home, ‘t will compensate.    Better will be the ecstasy    That they have done expecting me,    When, night descending,…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Rat. By Emily Dickinson

    The rat is the concisest tenant.    He pays no rent, —    Repudiates the obligation,    On schemes intent.     Balking our wit    To sound or circumvent,    Hate cannot harm    A foe so reticent….

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Railway Train. By Emily Dickinson

    I like to see it lap the miles,    And lick the valleys up,    And stop to feed itself at tanks;    And then, prodigious, step     Around a pile of…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Preacher. By Emily Dickinson

    He preached upon “breadth” till it argued him narrow, —    The broad are too broad to define;    And of “truth” until it proclaimed him a liar, —    The…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Past. By Emily Dickinson

    The past is such a curious creature,    To look her in the face    A transport may reward us,    Or a disgrace.     Unarmed if any meet her,    I charge him,…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Outlet. By Emily Dickinson

    My river runs to thee:    Blue sea, wilt welcome me?     My river waits reply.    Oh sea, look graciously!     I’ll fetch thee brooks    From spotted nooks, —     Say, sea,    Take…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Oriole. By Emily Dickinson

   One of the ones that Midas touched,    Who failed to touch us all,    Was that confiding prodigal,    The blissful oriole.     So drunk, he disavows it    With badinage divine;    So dazzling,…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Oriole’s Secret. By Emily Dickinson

    To hear an oriole sing    May be a common thing,    Or only a divine.     It is not of the bird    Who sings the same, unheard,    As unto crowd.     The…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Only Ghost I Ever Saw By Emily Dickinson

    The only ghost I ever saw    Was dressed in mechlin, — so;    He wore no sandal on his foot,    And stepped like flakes of snow.    His gait was soundless,…

September 24, 2019September 26, 2019
Categories Poem

The Nearest Dream Recedes, Unrealized. By Emily Dickinson

    The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.    The heaven we chase    Like the June bee    Before the school-boy    Invites the race;    Stoops to an easy clover —    Dips — evades — teases —…

September 24, 2019September 26, 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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