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Tuesday, December 07, 2021

Thou puzzlest me! - Emily Dickinson

 


My friend must be a Bird —

Because it flies!

Mortal, my friend must be,

Because it dies!

Barbs has it, like a Bee!

Ah, curious friend!

Thou puzzlest me!

 

Emily Dickinson

 

The above is a tough poem to mate with one of my photographs. Analysis of the poems suggests that this is about a Dickinson friend.

Curiously I put birds and my name in Google and I gotthis. I think that I can use the same image that I have already used for that blog on a Dickinson poem! 

 

 More Emily Dickinson

Twere Thanksgiving Day 

A Slash of Blue – Emily Dickinson

A slash of Blue --

A sweep of Gray --

Some scarlet patches on the way,

Compose an Evening Sky --

A little purple -- slipped between --

Some Ruby Trousers hurried on --

A Wave of Gold --

A Bank of Day --

 

More Emily Dickinson

A glee possesseth me

Autumn

A sweep of gray

It's full as opera

I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street 
Amber slips away
Sleep

When August burning low
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue
The colour of the grave is green
 Her Grace is not all she has  
To know if any human eyes were near
Linda Melsted - the music of the violin does not emerge alone
The Charm invests her face
A sepal, a petal and a thorn
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman
T were blessed to have seen
There is no frigate like a book
I pay in satin cash
Emily Dickinson's White Dress & a Hunter of Lost Souls
El vestido blanco - The White Dress
Water makes many beds
 The viola da gamba
 But sequence ravelled out of reach
 A parasol is the umbrella's daughter
 Without the power to die
 Lessons on the piny
Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
 Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
 A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html 
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html