the prowling Bee

Blogging all the poems of Emily Dickinson by Susan Kornfeld and Adam DeGraff

30 May 2015

The Red — Blaze — is the Morning —

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The Red — Blaze — is the Morning — The Violet — is Noon — The Yellow — Day — is falling — And after that — is None — But Miles of Spark...
9 comments:
24 May 2015

The Manner of its Death

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The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die — 'Tis deemed a privilege to choose — 'Twas Major Andre's Way — When Choic...
9 comments:
22 April 2015

When Bells stop ringing — Church — begins –

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When Bells stop ringing — Church — begins –  The Positive — of Bells — When Cogs — stop — that's Circumference — The Ultimate — of Wh...
8 comments:
16 April 2015

Note

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I would just like to take a moment, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and celebrate the completion of 600 commentaries. I only have 1189 le...
9 comments:

Her — last Poems —

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Her — last Poems — Poets ended — Silver — perished — with her Tongue — Not on Record — bubbled Other, Flute — or Woman — so divine — N...
10 comments:
12 April 2015

We do not play on Graves —

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We do not play on Graves — Because there isn't Room — Besides — it isn't even — it slants And People come — And put a Flower on...
6 comments:
05 April 2015

The Brain — is wider than the Sky —

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The Brain — is wider than the Sky — For — put them side by side — The one the other will contain With ease — and You — beside — The Bra...
11 comments:
28 March 2015

'Tis little I — could care for Pearls —

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'Tis little I — could care for Pearls — Who own the Ample sea — Or Brooches — when the Emperor — With Rubies — pelteth me — Or Gold...
12 comments:
24 March 2015

Ourselves were wed one summer — dear —

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Ourselves were wed one summer — dear — Your Vision — was in June — And when Your little Lifetime failed, I wearied — too — of mine — A...
13 comments:
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