Friday, December 10, 2010

Guess Who's Turning 180?


Emily Dickinson celebrates her 180th birthday today.

Miss Emily wrote many poems, but only seven or so were published while she was alive.  After her death, her sister found over a thousand poems in Emily's bureau.

I'm going to post my one of my favorite poems of hers here:


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.



~ This is the poem I held closest to me while I wrote Letters From the Emily Dickinson Room.  Images from this poem and others all found their way into my book.  It was not truly intentional to bring Emily in, each word--hope, dwell, feather--and yet, she appeared.  I think this is what the best poetry does, the poet's words return (and perch on your soul) and in your poems.

So let's wish Emily a Happy Birthday today and if you want you can more about her here (and if you scroll down, you can see who adopted this poet...) 

And if you have a second, drop me a comment about what was your favorite poem by Ms. Dickinson.

And may you all Dwell in Possibility...

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