Tuesday Poem - Emily Dickinson.

 1510 - How happy is the little Stone

How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn't care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears—
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity—

Emily Dickinson.


It seems that the third line is particularly pertinent when you're in the middle of NaNoWriMo and as many thousand words behind as I am! When you've contemplated the stones and pebbles of the Universe, find more poetry on the Tuesday Poem blog. 

Tuesday Poem

A Book

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

by Emily Dickinson

Next week I'm the Tuesday Poetry Hub Editor and I'm featuring Patricia Sykes, a Melbourne-based poet on both my own blog and the Tuesday Poetry Hub.  I love this little poem by Dickinson and I hope you do, too. Keep reading poetry at the Tuesday Poetry Hub - this week's poem is by Jac Jenkins and it's dense, gothic and rich in imagery. You can read a 2012 interview with Jac Jenkins talking about her life and flash fiction here.  Don't forget you can access many more pages of prancing poetry from the Hub!

Tuesday Poem - 'I died for beauty, but was scarce' by Emily 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 failed ?

"For beauty," I replied.

"And I for truth, — the two are one ;

We brethren are," he said.



And so, as kinsmen met a night,

We talked between the rooms,

Until the moss had reached our lips,

And covered up our names.


I have to confess to not having read a lot of Emily Dickinson, despite her huge influence on other poets I did - and do - read. In my earlier poetry reading years I found her syntax and use of capitalisation stilted and was further put off by quite so many references to Death and God. However, I've decided that I need to start looking more closely at her work, so this is my first foray. Although this poem is certainly about death, it's a journey that's shared by a kinsman and is accompanied by soft talk until moss, a benign presence, stops both talk and separate identity. I like it.

Click here to go to the Tuesday Poem Blog and find other Tuesday poems.