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Showing posts with label Emily Dickinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emily Dickinson. Show all posts

Top 100 or so Poems of All Time - "Hope is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson


This very simple poem has stood the test of time.  Emily Dickinson uses metaphor and imagery very well in transforming the abstract idea of hope (inanimate) into an animate object -- a bird.  This allows the reader to immediately conjure up an image of hope -- allowing the reader to now address hope - directly - and by doing so,

somehow place hope into context as to how it might play a role in their own lives.



Dickinson was a devout, conservative christian woman.  No doubt the poem was inspired by biblical readings and interpretations.



This poem has served as inspiration for so many people - when times are tough, and it seems as though things aren't going your way, never lose hope.



Well done!  Aspiring poets, remember the important tool of metaphor and imagery - sometimes they can help to get your message or the intent of the feeling across to the reader quite effectively.



Enjoy this masterpiece! 
 
Hope is the thing with feathers
 
by Emily Dickinson 
 
Hope is the thing with feathers  
That perches in the soul,  
And sings the tune without the words,  
And never stops at all,  
   
And sweetest in the gale is heard;          
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm.  
   
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,  
And on the strangest sea;         
Yet, never, in extremity,  
It asked a crumb of me.

Top 100 or so Poems -- "Because I could not stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us
The dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my gown
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the GROUND
The roof was scarcely visible
The cornice in the ground.

Since then 'tis centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the DAY
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.