| To be misunderstood Is perhaps the risk of the artist who opens his or her heart and soul And wrenches out all that he or she is and puts it on display for some to laugh or others to cry Some artists shun-- and put there brushes away But yet others pull them out again and again to paint their canvases Who knows what will be revealed? This page is dedicated to one of the greatest poets (in my belief) whose complexity and genius has intrigued audiences for years--Emily Dickinson. I am sharing some of my favorite poems by her with you. Enjoy. (these poems are from Final Harvest Emily Dickinson edited by Thomas H. Johnson) |
| 44 Come slowly -- Eden! Lips unused to Thee -- Bashful -- sip thy Jessamines -- As the fainting Bee -- Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums -- Counts his nectars -- Enters -- and is lost in Balms. |
| 290 Because I could not stop for Death -- He kindly stopped for me -- The Carriage held but just Ourselves -- And Immortality. We slowly drove --He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility -- We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess -- in the Ring -- We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -- We passed the Setting Sun -- Or rather -- He passed Us -- The Dews drew quivering and chill -- For only Gossamer, my Gown -- My Tippet -- only Tulle -- We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground -- The Roof was scarcely visible -- The Cornice -- in the Ground -- Since then -- 'tis Centuries -- and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity -- |
| 173 God made a little Gentian -- It tried -- to be a Rose -- And failed -- and all the Summer laughed -- But just before the Snows There rose a Purple Creature -- That ravished all the Hill -- And Summer hid her Forehead -- And Mockery -- was still -- The Frosts were her condition -- The Tyrian would not come Until the North -- invoke it -- Creator -- Shall I -- bloom? |
| Poetic Corner |