Dickinson Inspired Poem

I felt inspired to write about the Emily Dickinson section of this weeks Pod and would like to use this post as a means to share what I've learned about her, thoughts on her poetry and add a poem of my own in my best attempt to replicate Dickinson's poetry style.

Not having read many Emily Dickinson poem's before this section I was a little unprepared on what I was going to find. While reading about her history I discovered Dickinson was kept in a state of isolation most of her life. Remaining at home, she spent most of her time with her family. Her father, Edward Dickinson, stayed busy with politics while her brother Austin went to law school to eventually become an attorney. Her younger sister seemed to relate to her position the most as she also remained in similar isolation at home.

Regardless of her concealment, Dickinson remained active in managing various agreements and reading extensively. Though there was rarely company, the people she did come in contact with had a great impact on her poems. This left Dickinson always wanting more, which transfers over to a lot of her poems. She appeared to use this seldom contact with outsiders, her religion, knowledge of literature and her interest in Metaphysical poets of seventeenth-century England as a means to develop her own style of poetry.

Upon initial reaction towards the first line of poem I read "Because I could not stop for Death," I knew there was something different about Dickinson already. The first line consumed my interested, making it impossible to stop at this point, something no poem has made me feel before. Without a doubt of the genius at work, Dickinson delivered a message I've never came to realize before until I saw this. You really could say so much, through so little. Something Dickinson became a master of.

Dickinson was quirky, honest, respectful, yet rebellious at times. I found it most unbelievable how she was so isolated yet so in touch with her audience. She could transcribe the human consciousness in a formal poem as if she lived through it a thousand times. Not even the deepest of thinkers could make a message so vivid, but maybe this is the outcome of constantly having to resort to your own mind for company. Dickinson was overall a genius of inward thought and displayed her unreachable level of mental comprehension in several of her poems.

Life's purpose subsides, so I hang my dark crown,

'Tis time for my last breathe;

My house remains sovereign, proud, assertive in tone,

It is Destiny who disagrees.

Foremost a stubborn Cognate;

Towards which I offer abode,

Destiny compels my need for true purpose

For my Symphony taste of bitter - ode.

Empty - Void - It lacks in comparison;

Yes, I rule but I give invariably,

Yet Death knocks on my door

And Destiny smiles unbearably.

As options run thin, somber thickens;

Given through the eyes of Destiny, advice fit for a King

Yet Death knocks louder,

True purpose; my Symphony need.

My past, pale to this brume;

The cold remorse bites the bone,

Death's knock deafens the ears,

Yet Destiny remains warm and secure, as I plea for atone.

While all hope is lost, the warm infant grips my numb fingers

And I feel - Destiny - my true purpose.

Death's purpose subsides, so I mount my light crown,

'Tis time for my first breathe.