Is springtime at last approaching?
My hitherto forced grins
Are becoming more spontaneous.
Now I can come out
Of my shell again
And face the world.
Not cut out for winter,
I fall in love
With each vernal outburst.
I wish it were permanent.
Join us for quadrilles in
dverse forty.four.word poetry.
I thought my life would be like cartoon talk or a piece of gum,
Ever ready to be contained within, or to produce, a bubble.
I soon shall figure out a way to make it so.
I sha’n’t relax until I see that day.
Time for the third quadrille where De wants us to bubble with 44.word poetry at
I went to Lindenhurst last night
I thought I Heard the bells
Ring out loud at O.L.P.H.
The town was Dark and still.
I then went back to East Elmhurst
Outside St. Gabriel’s
And no one Recognized me there.
I felt a Solemn chill.
“Perhaps I’ll come back Someday soon”,
I thought as I did leave.
“I don’t belong Here anymore”,
Was all I could believe.
I have there now no Friend or foe
But only Tales to tell
Of life that was once, long ago,
A world I once knew well.
daily post, literature, poetry and tagged DPchallenge, East Elmhurst, Emily Dickinson, fiction, Lindenhurst N.Y., literature, Our Lady of Perpetual Help Parish, poetry, St. Gabriel on .
May 18, 2014 2 Comments
It’s a bright morning, seven a.m. April 16, 1862, in Amherst, Massachusetts. Emily Dickinson and her older brother Austin are to spend the day at his house celebrating his thirty third birthday with their family. For a while she is left alone. She contemplates her poem number 449. Death for beauty meets death for truth. Engrossed in a mystical vision of their confrontation, the consummate poetess loses all track of time. At about noon, Austin and their sister Lavinia arrive at the house and are stunned. Why had she entirely ignored the candle?
I have included a link to Dickinson’s poem, with an explanation of it, in order to give some insight into the circumstances surrounding my story.
Bernice was a big Yankee fan for life
Though Stanley he couldn’t stand sports at all.
He got gussied up all prim and proper
And she wore bermuda shorts day and night
She was such a radical left wing chick
And he, alas, was that far on the right.
She ate only macrobiotic style
And he wanted a well-rounded diet.
She, a country girl, lived on a large farm.
And he was a die hard city slicker.
She listened all day to the Grateful Dead
But he wanted a Mozart concerto.
Alas their romance didn’t quite work out.
Hard though I try I shall never know why.