Emily Dickenson's dreaming of Amherst.

There's a big old steel gate around her grave

Though It makes no difference - crypt or cave

'Cause clocks won't tell the time of day

To those that sleep in dirt or clay.

It's dark - it's deep - what's small will creep.

From the depths of soil on thee they'll heap   

As one takes the long nap in their plot

Where quarters are tight, like it or not.

Author's Note

Reviews

[andrew mitchell]

This mortality thing still gets to me that we are all going to die eventually someday. Shows how fickle life is. I sincerely hope your dad gets better too Tim. All the best.

[Relic]

Thanks very much, andrew. :)

[Papaya]

A poem for Emily but could really be for anyone we want it to be as we read.
It's clever and musical in a way that is subtle. A fine job.

[Relic]

Thanks, Ana. :-)

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the photo and good words. She was a amazing writer and she knew death was coming. Thank you my friend for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Relic]

Thanks very much for your thoughts, Coyote.

[Coyote Poetry]

I love her poetry and you are welcome my friend.

[Lorry]

Nicely done Sir. I got her collected works as an ebook for my birthday and have been working my way through it slowly. Still only 16% through it, but have the ferling she would indeed approve of the wry humour fighting and winning against the seriousness of the subject.
She most certainly had a humorous side and am often stopped in my tracks by the complexity of thought behind her simply stated words. Her unique perspective of seeing depth in the shallow is her most enduring aspect... In my humble opinion, and you have captured it a treat here.

[Relic]

Thank you, Lorry.

[Ken Simm.]

There is a ,(much misused word) quaintness and flighty humour about this that I am sure the great Miss Dickenson would love. As do I. And its not morbid in any way which given its subject matter is an extraordinary strength.

[Relic]

I appreciate your words, Ken. Thank you.

[Gee]

Love to read Emily D. Wonder what she'd make of the fuss(good) made over her work. Was she celebrated whilst still living ??
These words could well have been hers.
Hi Relic, hope all is swell in your world

[Relic]

Thank you, Gee. I know there were many writers who weren't recognized until they died. As far as Emily, that's a good question. I would imagine she was recognized in some way but not as much as she is today.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

This reminds me of a quote by Authur Brisbane: "The fence around a cemetery is foolish; for, those inside, can't come out and those outside don't want to come in." The finality of it really gets to me. It doesn't matter how rich you, how successful you are, how popular, your race, sex, ethnicity … we all die. We die, and life goes on. Within a few generations, we are pretty much forgotten … dust. Death is the great equalizer. It's truly the only place where we find equality. All is calm and serene in a cemetery.

[Relic]

Thanks very much for your interesting thoughts, Linda. :)

[barleygirl]

What stands out for me about your poem is what is NOT spoken of here. Taken literally, this poem could be about anyone. So I asked myself, why Emily D? I feel the reason might be becuz you were contrasting a small dark constrained space where her bones lie . . . with the (unmentioned in your poem) huge open-air space inside so many minds around the world where her words have continued to reside! I love V2, the way you describe one's resting place under dirt (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Relic]

Interesting review. Thanks Margie.

[wordman]

well lets hope only bones left

[Relic]

I'd be surprised if it wasn't. ha
Thanks, Wordman.

[wordman]

you`re welcome