They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
--from "They shut me up in Prose" by Emily Dickinson
Book Burning
One sale bin is filled with poets
fallen on hard times,
Francis Thompson, Ernest Dowson among them.
Books not bought within the half hour
will burn like martyrs.
"We need the space," one librarian insists.
Soon the Brownings are riding
in one deep pocket, the Shelleys
huddled in another. I dawdle in the company
of Verlaine and Rimbaud,
Isherwood and Auden. I smuggle
Villon under my jacket.
A gruff staff member grumbles
I have to leave, the furnace ready to go.
Outside, settling like dandruff
onto my teenage shoulders,
flakes of ash rain down.
Sadly I walk off, clutching
Emily Dickinson,
who I hold closer to my heart
than I can ever imagine
holding either prose
or lover.
Book Burning
Re: Book Burning
Like the ending, Bob,
Emily Dickinson,
who I hold closer to my heart
than I can ever imagine
holding either prose
or lover.
Emily Dickinson,
who I hold closer to my heart
than I can ever imagine
holding either prose
or lover.
meenas17
Re: Book Burning
Wow, like this love of poetry poem.
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- Posts: 2154
- Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Re: Book Burning
Hi Bob,
for the attribution, "--from "They shut me up in Prose" by" isn't needed.
This is sufficient:
They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet – -- Emily Dickinson
How about the Villon image alluding to Villon's escaping the gallows - maybe I can compose a workshop image later
Michael (MV)
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- Posts: 2154
- Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Re: Book Burning
Hi Bob,
Here's that workshop-image - an unconditional, of course - Joyous Easter from Michael (MV)
Soon the Brownings are riding
in one deep pocket, the Shelleys
huddled in another. I dawdle in the company
of Verlaine and Rimbaud. Villon
escapes the gallows again, smuggled
under the collar my jacket.
Here's that workshop-image - an unconditional, of course - Joyous Easter from Michael (MV)
Soon the Brownings are riding
in one deep pocket, the Shelleys
huddled in another. I dawdle in the company
of Verlaine and Rimbaud. Villon
escapes the gallows again, smuggled
under the collar my jacket.