Dickinson

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i am reading her now, and only about a 1/3 of her poems seem to transcend the nature cliches. But those third are so dreadful and terrorfying.

also can you divide american poets into whitman and dickinson types?

also can we discuss how simple her language is, and how natural her ryhthyms (ie look how often she uses brain instead of mind ?)

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 20:27 (twenty-three years ago)

Damn, i thought this was going to be a thread about David Dickinson of Bargain Hunt and spangly glasses fame.
Despite being a classicist (who studies Greek poetry), i really dislike poetry.

― SeanF, Saturday, 19 October 2002 20:30 (twenty-three years ago)

I didn't even know Angie Dickinson wrote poetry.

― Martin Skidmore (Martin Skidmore), Saturday, 19 October 2002 20:39 (twenty-three years ago)

emily, you fucked up punk. btw email me.

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 20:42 (twenty-three years ago)

done

― Martin Skidmore (Martin Skidmore), Saturday, 19 October 2002 20:56 (twenty-three years ago)

Part Two: Nature
XCVIII

IT ’S like the light,—
  A fashionless delight,
It’s like the bee,—
  A dateless melody.

It ’s like the woods,
  Private like breeze,
Phraseless, yet it stirs
  The proudest trees.

It ’s like the morning,—
  Best when it’s done,—
The everlasting clocks
  Chime noon.
--

I am a sucker for the alliteration with l's in the first line. Also how off the end rhyme is in the last stanza. The Whitman/Dickinson division is a good one, I think. Expansion vs. Compression. Of course upon closer examination, you find a lot of poets who've taken from each side.But for a broad scope, I think you'd be hard pressed to find two more influential American poets.

― bnw (bnw), Saturday, 19 October 2002 22:22 (twenty-three years ago)

Hey Anthony I'm right down the street from the house she grew up in right now...

― brg30 (brg30), Saturday, 19 October 2002 22:41 (twenty-three years ago)

Oh. I thought this was about Bruce Dickinson.

― Michael Daddino (epicharmus), Saturday, 19 October 2002 22:46 (twenty-three years ago)

see i dont think that the poem you posted is effective, its too sweet. 2/3 of emily is shit, pure shit, like she is struggling with how a lady should act. when she wrote the clear, concise, comnpresed, violent poems, then there is the power. For example:
I LIKE a look of agony,
Because I know it ’s true;
Men do not sham convulsion,
Nor simulate a throe.

The eyes glaze once, and that is death. 5
Impossible to feign
The beads upon the forehead
By homely anguish strung.

look at the words she uses: like,agony,true,sham,glaze,death,beads,homley- anglo saxon suffering.w

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 22:50 (twenty-three years ago)

I read it as sweet up until the last lines, where its stops dead at the off rhyme. Emily doesn't use the subject of clocks and time lightly. She has a knack for language but personally, as soon as I see the worth "agony" or "death" with Dickinson, I start to tune out. I like her more subversive work.

― bnw (bnw), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:04 (twenty-three years ago)

I drank soup - gladly
Exposed the pools of urine - paddling
In the sea - john candy
Friki friki - baby girl.

― naked as sin (naked as sin), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:13 (twenty-three years ago)

ok i see where you are going with this, and the end rhyme is effective. but alot of her complete poems are nasty in their cloyingness.

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:25 (twenty-three years ago)

NATURE, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,—
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill 5
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,— 10
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket, 15
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky, 20

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:26 (twenty-three years ago)

the numbers she chose there are particularly horrible (well, 20 is OK bcz four goes into it)

― mark s (mark s), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:27 (twenty-three years ago)

sorry, bartelbys does line breaks,

― anthony easton (anthony), Saturday, 19 October 2002 23:36 (twenty-three years ago)

Seaman staines is down below,
Torpedos loaded, he's ready to go

(a bit of bruce for ya!)

― jel -- (jel), Sunday, 20 October 2002 08:02 (twenty-three years ago)

Jim Dickinson is the best Dickinson.

― Andrew L (Andrew L), Sunday, 20 October 2002 09:07 (twenty-three years ago)

It's only just occurred to me that 'Dickinson' is a really disgusting name.

― N. (nickdastoor), Sunday, 20 October 2002 11:13 (twenty-three years ago)

nine years pass...

new photo found:

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/05/still-no-new-pynchon-photo-but-heres-emily-dickinson/?smid=fb-share

― (The Other) J.D. (J.D.), Thursday, 6 September 2012 19:18 (thirteen years ago)

one year passes...

exciting! http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/23/books/enigmatic-dickinson-revealed-online.html

― Mordy , Wednesday, 23 October 2013 08:33 (eleven years ago)

five years pass...

Dear March - Come in -

Dear March - Come in -
How glad I am -
I hoped for you before -
Put down your Hat -
You must have walked -
How out of Breath you are -
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest -
Did you leave Nature well -
Oh March, Come right upstairs with me -
I have so much to tell -

I got your Letter, and the Birds -
The Maples never knew that you were coming -
I declare - how Red their Faces grew -
But March, forgive me -
And all those Hills you left for me to Hue -
There was no Purple suitable -
You took it all with you -

Who knocks? That April -
Lock the Door -
I will not be pursued -
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied -
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame -

― Acting Crazy (Instrumental) (jed_), Friday, 1 March 2019 21:24 (six years ago)

two months pass...

Could you believe me-- without?

I had no portrait, now
but am small, like the Wren
and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur-
and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass
that the Guest leaves--

Would this do just as well?

― Jersey Al (Albert R. Broccoli), Saturday, 4 May 2019 23:42 (six years ago)

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