tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post3356087985286166824..comments2023-10-17T08:19:58.196-04:00Comments on FreeThinke: FreeThinkehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-21177432695059116282017-07-29T05:25:09.827-04:002017-07-29T05:25:09.827-04:00_____ Her House _____
Creamy quiet rooms
____ fil...<b>_____ Her House _____<br /><br /><i>Creamy quiet rooms<br />____ filled with light ––<br />________ white and cream ––<br />Sparsely furnished rooms <br />____ filled with light––<br />________ almost black<br />An island here and there ––<br />____ polished wood ––<br />________ darkly gleams.<br /><br />Beeswax and bureau scarves ––<br />____ echoes of lavender from Before ––<br />________ captured in a drawer.<br /><br />A solitary bee<br />____ for company.<br /><br />A dainty Windsor chair ––<br />____ a skeleton in black<br />________ against the light ––<br />A churchyard framed in white ––<br />____ crisp unspotted white.<br /><br />A stillness so pure<br />____ one could hear<br />________ the waltzing whir<br />________ of moth wings ––<br /><br />________ Somewhere<br />____________ in the attic.</i></b><br /><br />~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper<br /><br /><i>[NOTE: This description of Emily's house may seem at odds with the impression of Victorian darkness given in The Belle of Amherst, but in truth The Homestead, as it was called, was delghtfully out of date, and nothing like the impressin given n the play. Built in the Federal Style of the first quarter of the nineteenth century the Homestead was filled with light and furnished more in the lean, clean elegant styles of Sheraton, Duncan Phyfe and Hitchcock than any of the bulkier, heavier pieces that later characteized the mid-to-late nineteenth century. Emily's room was sparsely, but elegantly furnished. My imagination conjured up "a dainty Windsor chair" but in fact it was a dainty HITCHCOCK chair that Emily used to support her tny frame when writing at her small table by the window in the southeast crner of the house. Otherwise, I still managed to get the mood and tine of the place right.]</i><br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-25574933639124074642017-07-29T05:02:11.016-04:002017-07-29T05:02:11.016-04:00_________ Emily Dickinson _________
Eking out Exi...<b>_________ Emily Dickinson _________<br /><br /><i>Eking out Existence phrase by phrase<br />Moved by deep desire, maimed by dread<br />Inward-seeing –– words like “chrysoprase” <br />Lay beneath the commonplaces said<br />Yesterday aloud in pale Austerity.<br />Dumb 'neath neat white frock a passion soared<br />In silent self-made world, and saw the Verity <br />Contained in visions stark, but leading toward<br />Kashmir! Perhaps Brazil? –– the Alps! –– the Grave.<br />In life unknown, a lonely wraith –– a mist ––-<br />No one heard the meek, majestic rave<br />Starved for Solace –– praying to be kissed.<br />On secret Stiles of Silence one may climb<br />Nunlike –– quite unnoticed in one's time.</i></b><br /><br />~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper<br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-23516138485012933202017-07-26T08:41:41.759-04:002017-07-26T08:41:41.759-04:00Obviously, I do too,Doris. I first became acquain...Obviously, I do too,Doris. I first became acquainted with Miss Dickinson whan I was fourteen in a Frehman English textbook anthology. I knew right away that I had found a friend, –– a soulmate, –– a confidante, –– an alter-ego –– the Big Sister I never had..<br /><br />Sixty-two years later Emily and I are better friends than ever. We've been through a lot together, she and I, and very frankly I might have becime a Lost Soul had I not become privy to her remarkable Inner Vision.<br /><br />This may seem odd, since Emily died 55 years before I was born (!), but she remains fully alive thanks to the poems and letters she left behind after she departed this life. FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-40661527322678675372017-07-26T08:30:47.827-04:002017-07-26T08:30:47.827-04:00You mght enjoy our most recent post more, Marvin, ...You mght enjoy our most recent post more, Marvin, but I have to say that dwelling on "Current Events" is rarely enlightening or enlivening. In fact it's far more apt to be downright <i>enervating</i>.<br /><br />If I had the right –– or the temerity –– to give this poem a name, I would call it “To Those Left Behind.” Emily never gave titles to her poems, they are always identified by simply the first line.<br /><br />We think always of the brave men horribly killed in battle, but too little attention has been paid –– I feel –– to the widows and orphans, mothers, fathers, younger siblings and close friends forced to suffer the pain of losing a loved one, a helpmate, a guide, and a companion.<br /><br />After all, for the dead it is over –– their suffering, one would hope, is at an end. Those left behind, however, must somehow carry on and find find new purpose in living. This poem, I feel, addresses their situation eloquently.<br /><br /><br /><b><i>We grow accustomed to the Dark ––<br />When Light is put away ––<br />As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp<br />To witness her Good bye ––<br /> <br />A Moment –– We uncertain step<br />For newness of the night ––<br />Then –– fit our Vision to the Dark –– <br />And meet the Road –– erect –– <br /> <br />And so of larger –– Darknesses ––<br />Those Evenings of the Brain ––<br />When not a Moon disclose a sign ––<br />Or Star –– come out –– within ––<br /> <br />The Bravest –– grope a little ––<br />And sometimes hit a Tree<br />Directly in the Forehead ––<br />But as they learn to see ––<br /> <br />Either the Darkness alters ––<br />Or something in the sight<br />Adjusts itself to Midnight ––<br />And Life steps almost straight.</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)<br /><br /><br />Now that could hardly be called "A FUN READ" but it says something of eternal, inestimable value, –– something that could, if rightky understood, stand us in good stead and help sustain us for a lifetime.<br /><br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-14583886590776330492017-07-26T08:20:26.848-04:002017-07-26T08:20:26.848-04:00"Praise from Caesar ..." };^)>
Tha...<i>"Praise from Caesar ..."</i> };^)><br /><br />Thank you kindly, AOW. It came in a flash. I would never have thought to write it, had you not asked a stimulating question, so in a sense you are responsible as I for its creation, such as it is..FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-17126338866982153912017-07-25T21:02:21.647-04:002017-07-25T21:02:21.647-04:00FT,
I love "A distant grinding far above.&quo...FT,<br />I love "A distant grinding far above." You've captured her style, tone, and spirit.<br /><br />I don't have the gift of writing verse, but I surely can evaluate it.Always On Watchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08192688822955022541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-32346869158777226032017-07-25T16:56:13.543-04:002017-07-25T16:56:13.543-04:00Very enlightening, Mr. FreeThink, but can we move ...Very enlightening, Mr. FreeThink, but can we move on now. McCain has slithered back into the Senate.Marvin Krummschitznoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-31903493878321640672017-07-25T16:38:43.126-04:002017-07-25T16:38:43.126-04:00I love Ms. Dickerson's workI love Ms. Dickerson's workA Gal Named Dorishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05651695971165007052noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-4507818982147453272017-07-25T14:58:59.722-04:002017-07-25T14:58:59.722-04:00Possibly s]mething like this:
A distant grinding ...Possibly s]mething like this:<br /><br /><b><i>A distant grinding far above<br />Then roaring fills the sky<br />A raucous, shining metal bird ––<br />A pterodactyl come to life!<br /><br />A wonder –– yet a terror ––<br />What might it mean for me ––<br />Who so far gazed at birds and clouds<br />Through branches of a tree?<br /><br />As soon as it was heard<br />As quickly disappeared<br />Leaving just a trail of steam<br />And Silence once again.</i></b><br /><br />~ FT<br /><br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-17131639699410944622017-07-25T13:47:33.764-04:002017-07-25T13:47:33.764-04:00Early in "The Belle ..." Julie Harris as...Early in "The Belle ..." Julie Harris as Emily tells us <i>"I have found my heaven right here at home in Amherst,"</i> or something very like that. She also lets it be known that much of her "eccentricity" is at least in part a <i>show</i> she deliberately puts on for her gossipy, potentially meddlesome neighbors and townspeople to keep them at bay, for she finds them unbearably dull. Apparently, she gets a great deal of amusement at their expense watching their vain attempts to get a peek at her to find out what she is really all about.<br /><br />So we know she had a whimsical, satirical streak, and a great sense of humor and irony quite capable of mirth. We also learn she was a good cook who bent to her culinary labors wth considerable enthusiasm, and an award winning gardener as well.<br /><br />However, along with her own peculiar brand of enlightenment brought about by keen insight she was no stranger to anguish either, as this poem all too readily attests:<br /><br /><b><i>The heart asks pleasure first,<br />And then excuse from pain,<br />And then those little anodynes<br />That deaden suffering ... <br /><br />And the to go to sleep,<br />And then, if it should be<br />The Will of its Inquisitor,<br />The liberty to die.</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)<br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-78961573791325762592017-07-25T13:23:45.931-04:002017-07-25T13:23:45.931-04:00My younger students immediately grasp who the &quo...My younger students immediately grasp who the "narrow fellow" is. They have, after all, seen a snake.<br /><br />I wonder how Emily would have described an airplane?Always On Watchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08192688822955022541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-4400056660435878742017-07-25T12:43:33.914-04:002017-07-25T12:43:33.914-04:00I love the way she lets her unique imagery speak f...I love the way she lets her unique imagery speak for itself without any sort of didactic introductory words. Her work is filled with endless subtlety. We rarely have any idea what she is talking about until her words make it possible for us to experience it for ourselves.<br /><br />"A narrow fellow in the grass" is another good case in point. She never once mentions the word "snake." Instead, she deftly, –– even <i>thrillingly</i> –– evokes the creature's presence.FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-31849944048686289902017-07-25T12:15:01.492-04:002017-07-25T12:15:01.492-04:00"I like to see it lap the Miles" is a bi..."I like to see it lap the Miles" is a bit of a mystery to students today. So many have never ridden on a train! **sigh**Always On Watchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08192688822955022541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-64531285332586600272017-07-25T12:11:30.125-04:002017-07-25T12:11:30.125-04:00"I'll tell you how the sun rose" has..."I'll tell you how the sun rose" has a much lighter tone. My younger students like that one.Always On Watchhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08192688822955022541noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-79499181909943793612017-07-25T11:54:35.924-04:002017-07-25T11:54:35.924-04:00I like to see it lap the Miles ––
And lick the Val...<b><i>I like to see it lap the Miles ––<br />And lick the Valleys up ––<br />And stop to feed itself at Tanks –– <br />And then –– prodigious step<br /><br />Around a Pile of Mountains ––<br />And supercilious peer<br />In Shanties –– by the sides of Roads - <br />And then a Quarry pare<br /><br />To fit it's sides<br />And crawl between<br />Complaining all the while<br />In horrid –– hooting stanza ––<br />Then chase itself down Hill –– <br /><br />And neigh like Boanerges ––<br />Then - prompter than a Star<br />Stop - docile and omnipotent<br />At it's own stable door ––</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-8023096613346173622017-07-25T11:27:22.335-04:002017-07-25T11:27:22.335-04:00Here's anpther:
I'll tell you how the sun...Here's anpther:<br /><br /><b><i>I'll tell you how the sun rose,-- <br />A ribbon at a time. <br />The steeples swam in amethyst, <br />The news like squirrels ran. <br />The hills untied their bonnets, <br />The bobolinks begun. <br />Then I said softly to myself, <br />"That must have been the sun!"<br /><br />But how he set, I know not. <br />There seemed a purple stile <br />Which little yellow boys and girls <br />Were climbing all the while <br />Till when they reached the other side, <br />A dominie in gray <br />Put gently up the evening bars, <br />And led the flock away.</i></b><br /><br />~ EmilyFreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-35221081450311014552017-07-25T11:22:41.354-04:002017-07-25T11:22:41.354-04:00It was the first of the four poems she sent to Tho...It was the first of the four poems she sent to Thomas Wentworth Higginson when she unitiated their relationship.FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-75148448369899357722017-07-24T22:46:00.111-04:002017-07-24T22:46:00.111-04:00I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing...<b><i>I measure every Grief I meet <br />With narrow, probing, eyes –– <br />I wonder if It weighs like Mine –– <br />Or has an Easier size.<br /><br />I wonder if They bore it long –– <br />Or did it just begin –– <br />I could not tell the Date of Mine –– <br />It feels so old a pain –– <br /><br /> I wonder if it hurts to live –– <br />And if They have to try –– <br /> And whether –– could They choose between –– <br />It would not be –– to die –– <br /><br /> I note that Some –– gone patient long –– <br />At length, renew their smile –– <br /> An imitation of a Light <br />That has so little Oil –– <br /><br />I wonder if when Years have piled –– <br />Some Thousands –– on the Harm –– <br />That hurt them early –– such a lapse <br />Could give them any Balm –– <br /><br />Or would they go on aching still <br />Through Centuries of Nerve –– <br /> Enlightened to a larger Pain –– <br /> In Contrast with the Love –– <br /><br />The Grieved –– are many –– I am told –– <br />There is the various Cause –– <br />Death –– is but one –– and comes but once –– <br />And only nails the eyes –– <br /><br />There’s Grief of Want –– and grief of Cold –– <br />A sort they call “Despair” –– T<br />here’s Banishment from native Eyes ––<br /> In sight of Native Air –– <br /><br />And though I may not guess the kind –– <br /> Correctly –– yet to me <br />A piercing Comfort it affords<br /> In passing Calvary –– <br /><br />To note the fashions –– of the Cross –– <br />And how they’re mostly worn –– <br />Still fascinated to presume<br /> That Some –– are like my own ––</i></b> <br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-53015264414778049472017-07-24T22:38:47.822-04:002017-07-24T22:38:47.822-04:00He preached upon 'Breadth' till it argued ...<br /><br /><br /><i><b>He preached upon 'Breadth' till it argued him narrow –– <br />The Broad are too broad to define<br />And of 'Truth' until it proclaimed him a Liar ––<br />The Truth never flaunted a Sign –– <br /><br />Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence<br />As Gold the Pyrites would shun ––<br />What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus<br />To meet so enabled a Man!</b></i><br /><br /> ~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)<br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-3161148567956147962017-07-24T22:37:21.823-04:002017-07-24T22:37:21.823-04:00Arcturus his other name,—
I ’d rather call him sta...<b><i>Arcturus his other name,—<br />I ’d rather call him star!<br />It ’s so unkind of science<br />To go and interfere!<br /><br />I pull a flower from the woods,—<br />A monster with a glass<br />Computes the stamens in a breath,<br />And has her in a class.<br /><br />Whereas I took the butterfly<br />Aforetime in my hat,<br />He sits erect in cabinets,<br />The clover-bells forgot.<br /><br />What once was heaven, is zenith now.<br />Where I proposed to go<br />When time’s brief masquerade was done,<br />Is mapped, and charted too!<br /><br />What if the poles should frisk about<br />And stand upon their heads!<br />I hope I’m ready for the worst,<br />Whatever prank betides!<br /> <br />Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven’s changed!<br />I hope the children there<br />Won’t be new-fashioned when I come,<br />And laugh at me, and stare!<br /> <br />I hope the father in the skies<br />Will lift his little girl,—<br />Old-fashioned, naughty, everything,—<br />Over the stile of pearl!</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-56415395969876387212017-07-24T22:26:50.495-04:002017-07-24T22:26:50.495-04:00A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld —
The la...<b><i>A charm invests a face<br />Imperfectly beheld —<br />The lady dare not lift her veil<br />For fear it be dispelled.<br /> <br />But peers beyond her mesh,<br /> And wishes, and denies —<br />Lest interview annul a want<br />That image satisfies.</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)<br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-89466762010059155662017-07-24T22:24:13.850-04:002017-07-24T22:24:13.850-04:00Our lives are Swiss ––
So still –– so Cool ––
Ti...<b><i>Our lives are Swiss ––<br /> So still –– so Cool –– <br />Till some odd afternoon <br />The Alps neglect their Curtains <br />And we see farther on<br /><br />Italy stands the other side! <br />While like a guard between –– <br />The solemn Alps –– The siren Alps<br /> Forever intervene! </i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-84115609214561376092017-07-24T22:20:40.918-04:002017-07-24T22:20:40.918-04:00If you were coming in the Fall,
I'd brush the ...<b><i>If you were coming in the Fall,<br />I'd brush the Summer by<br />With half a smile, and half a spurn,<br />As Housewives do, a Fly.<br /><br />If I could see you in a year,<br />I'd wind the months in balls ––<br />And put them each in separate Drawers,<br />Until their time befalls ––<br /><br />If only Centuries, delayed,<br />I'd count them on my Hand ––<br />Subtracting, til my fingers dropped ––<br />Into Van Dieman's Land ––<br /><br />If certain, when this life was out ––<br />That yours and mine, should be<br />I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind ––<br />And taste Eternity ––<br /><br />But, now, all ignorant of the length<br />Of Time's uncertain wing ––<br />It goads me, like the Goblin Bee ––<br />That will not state –– its sting.</i></b><br /><br />~ EmilyFreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-37764515743789047152017-07-24T22:14:08.198-04:002017-07-24T22:14:08.198-04:00To make a Prairie
It takes a clover –– and one bee...<b><i>To make a Prairie<br />It takes a clover –– and one bee ––<br />And Reverie.<br />The Reverie alone will do –– <br />If bees are few.</i></b><br /><br />~ EmilyFreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145653764764266444.post-52699949491481876792017-07-24T10:22:08.721-04:002017-07-24T10:22:08.721-04:00I cannot live with you
It would be Life ––
And Lif...<b><i>I cannot live with you<br />It would be Life ––<br />And Life is over there ––<br />Behind the Shelf<br /><br />The one Sexton keeps the Key to ––<br />Putting up<br />Our Life –– His Porcelain ––<br />Like a Cup ––<br /><br />Discarded of the Housewife ––<br />Quaint –– or Broke –– <br />A newer Sevres pleases –– <br />Old Ones crack ––<br /><br />I could not die –– with You ––<br />For One must wait<br />To shut the Other’s Gaze down ––<br />You –– could not ––<br /><br />And I –– could I stand by<br />And see You –– freeze ––<br />Without my Right of Frost ––<br />Death’s privilege?<br /><br />Nor could I rise –– with You ––<br />Because Your Face<br />Would put out Jesus’ ––<br />That New Grace<br /><br />Glow plain –– and foreign<br />On my homesick Eye ––<br />Except that You than He<br />Shone closer by –– <br /><br />They’d judge Us –– How –– <br />For You –– served Heaven –– You know ––<br />Or sought to ––<br />I could not –– <br /><br />Because You saturated Sight ––<br />And I had no more Eyes<br />For sordid excellence<br />As Paradise<br /><br />And were You lost, I would be ––<br />Though My Name<br />Rang loudest<br />On the Heavenly fame ––<br /><br />And were You –– saved ––<br />And I –– condemned to be<br />Where You were not ––<br />That self –– were Hell to Me ––<br /><br />So We must meet apart ––<br />You there –– I –– here ––<br />With just the Door ajar<br />That Oceans are –– and Prayer –– <br />And that Pale Sustenance ––<br />Despair ––</i></b><br /><br />~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)<br />FreeThinkehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16682678301019952436noreply@blogger.com