She walked — alone —
among the Sun and Frost —
Counting Hours — like Petals —
falling — one by one —
The World — a distant Bell —
sounded softly —
while she — in Rooms of Silence —
spoke to Stars — with Ink —
A Door — unopened —
kept her Secrets safe —
Her Mind — a Garden —
where Ideas — grew wild —
Birds — Letters —
fluttered from her Hand —
Carrying Thoughts —
no one could confine —
Death — a Visitor —
waited quietly —
Yet she — smiling —
welcomed Eternity — in Words —
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
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Lightning Never Strikes Twice
The distant rumble, the sudden deluge, the crescendo of sound, the flash of light, the explosive energy — it never gets old. I became an amateur storm chaser about two years ago. My wife, Cindy suggested it. Sort of. She said, "Alex, you know this cancer is killing me. I've come to terms with that, but you're smothering me. Go join a band, write a book, or become a storm chaser, for all I care. I love you, but you need a hobby."
By Julie Lacksonen7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Not only did you capture her well with your words but you emulated her style quite well. I wrote a piece about the upcoming Emily Dickinson festival. I hope to attend a few of the readings and workshops. You might be interested too!
You beautifully described Her, it feels so familiar to me writing to stars and garden it's all my life for some years now :) That's why I liked her since day One !
Lovely
I may not know much about Emily Dickinson herself, but this piece really captures the sense of solitude, mystery, and brilliance I’ve always associated with her.
You captured the spirit of this wonderful person with a grace that she deserves