Thursday, April 7, 2011

Dreamy Thursday : Emily Dickinson

Woo hoo..It's my favorite day: Thursday!
Which means it is Dreamy Thursday here.

If you are new here, Dreamy Thursday is the
day I talk about anything and anyone
that give me that beautiful blissful Dreamy
feeling.

Today's Dreamy Thursday is on Emily Dickinson
(Dec 10, 1830 - May 15 1886) especially apt
with this being Poetry Month.


Known in her hometown of Amherst, Massachusetts
as the reclusive "Lady in White", Emily Dickinson's
poetry defies the image that she had in her town
and still follows her today.

When I read Emily, I feel like I know her soul.
Her poetry vibrates with energy, life and passion.
I like to imagine that Emily allowed me to have
tea with her on a sunny Spring afternoon.
We talk on many topics.

I ask her have you been in love?
Emily with a far away
look in her eyes begins to speak.

My River runs to thee—
Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?
My River wait reply—
Oh Sea—look graciously—
I'll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks—
Say—Sea—Take Me!


and she speaks more on Love and Passion...

Wild nights - Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the Compass -
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee!


And I share with Emily of my dear friend
who died two years ago, that I still miss.
Emily has her share of sorrows. She replies:

Each that we lose takes part of us;
A crescent still abides,
Which like the moon, some turbid night,
Is summoned by the tides.


or even in a more quiet voice she shares:

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 Ghost
Than its interior Confronting —
That Cooler Host.

Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,
The Stones a'chase —
Than Unarmed, one's a'self encounter —
In lonesome Place —

Ourself behind ourself, concealed —
Should startle most —
Assassin hid in our Apartment
Be Horror's least.

The Body — borrows a Revolver —
He bolts the Door —
O'erlooking a superior spectre —
Or More —


Emily pats my hand. We turn to
discuss how we both love nature.
And Emily lights up with her brown
eyes sparkling. She lifts up the
window to the outside world.
And says:

Some things that fly there be —
Birds — Hours — the Bumblebee —
Of these no Elegy.

Some things that stay there be —
Grief — Hills — Eternity —
Nor this behooveth me.

There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!


I tell her how I feel at home
with Nature and Emily nods in reply.
And says:

The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially --

The Brooks laugh louder when I come --
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?


I thank Emily for having me over for tea.
She tells me to come anytime. For
we are kindred spirits.

This is just a sampling of the
1700 poems she wrote. You can
find Emily's poems at your local
library, bookstore and online.
Be aware her poems have been edited.
Try to find her poems with her
lovely dashes intact, the way
she originally wrote them.


If you enjoy Dreamy Thursday here,
you can be a Guest Blogger at Swan of Dreamers
talking about what makes you feel Dreamy.
Email me at Jettswan@gmail.com for
all the info. Wishing all of you
a very Dreamy Thursday.

Shellsigna

1 comment:

Tracy said...

Emily's words guide, lift, and heal don't they... She's a great friend, is Emily. ;o) I've always love her poems and is a writer's muse for me. Lovely, lovely post, Shell... Happy Weekend ((HUGS))