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
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.
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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