~~~Emily Dickinson~~~Poem A Day! "When Roses cease to bloom, Sir," 32/1775

When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
And Violets are done —
When Bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the Sun —
The hand that paused to gather
Upon this Summer's day
Will idle lie — in Auburn —
Then take my flowers — pray!

by Emily Dickinson

This short and sweet poem reminds me of a very dramatic, in the style of Sarah Bernhardt (a contempoarary of Ms Emily's) the actress in full dramatic repose. Much like the swooning girl on the Masterpiece Theatre. I can almost envision Ms Emily feigning death with flowers upon her tomb!

It is that time of year, Autumn, Ms Emily calls it "Auburn" the colour of the season (I hear everyone is wearing Auburn in Autumn this year!). Emily's famous red roses and Bumblebess are on a "solemn flight" (don't they die at the end of season?) and the they have indeed "passed beyond the Sun" (where's that? the gamma-reversed world or is it the spirit world of spirit bumblebees? remembering now that matter never dies it just CHANGES FORM.) "Violets are done" indeed Ms Emily; like yesteday's dinner! Oh I will so miss summer. You too, I can tell, Ms Emily (ok this is sick I am talking to a dead poet...but maybe alive since we all know that matter never dies it just changes form...right?)...:)

So we are still in summer but we see all the lovely summer plants dying and bumblebees buzzing their last buzz and they leave and go to live in Florida (if they are lucky) if not they go behind the sun to the gamma reversed world and set up shop until the rebound spring or resprung spring sends them to us again come next Spring! I cant wait either! Ms Emily is hoping that we take the flowers away now before they turn to reddish brown the colour of dear Ms Emily's reddish brown hair! How wonderful life is with Ms Emily; and so dramatic the flair!

Ewwww...even "hands will lie idle" do not sound too happy either as I envision "corpse hands"! Scary and creepy. Are we getting creeper Ms Emily? Where you the Stephen King of your day Ms Emily? Sure sounds it! Love you anyway Ms Emily! We all enjoy a good scare now and then! As long as we are still alive after the scare, right? Please somebody take Ms Em's dead flowers from her grave. She's haunting me today! (especially after I looked up "dead hands" and "Auburn" kinda creepy!) What will be the picture today that wont creep everybody out? What? You want to be creeped out? Sorry I don't do "creep out"!

Chiccoreal's take on "When Roses Cease To Bloom, Sir"

Roses and Violet
and Bumblebees and Hands
all become done like last Summer Sun
And fun and games and frolick alike
cannot stop the hand of time from
acting Idle come end of summer fun
Because we all know
that the Autumn
In her Auburn colours
Smell of old banana lunches
and hickory sticks
like body odour from yesterday's
gym socks!

jj









http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Author:Emily_Dickinson/Index/1-99

The Blue Moon Shaman

T'is the summer I found the Shaman after all these years;
man o' my dreams; to look deep into those eternal eyes!
as with me own heart's deepest heartfelt desires
the flame in water grew to a most disproportiante size

Mesmerized and enchanted, I didnt get his romantic lingo
as a sneezy kerchoo on my hankerchief and then all bingo
a sudden breeze flew me nearly two feet in the air; no lie!
who knew this intoxicating elixir by a man could make me fly!

A fiasco o' flash o' matic magnetic smile such alchemy
do you want to borrow my dreamy ancient arts and science Guide
he really did things to make me feel like a whole woman again
as the midnight hour rounded the moon's oil I swooned and sighed

Hola and Hoopla a simple incantation so hasty
an evocative magical proof than poof and switcheroo
and Voila the lady aint no lady refined yet not so nasty
now I'm a flyin' pink and purple fluffy downunder dingy kangeroo!

maybe it's just the old hag syndrome
nothing has ever felt like this til now
what magic! what freedom! what joy!
sparklin' and swirlin' like a dirvish; when I roam

Which witch was which so carelessly; now I felt so ill
falling head over heels in love while flying pell mell
Was it the Shaman? I fell madly in love with love for now
everybody said that I looked just like a big blue eyed cow

with those big legs; leapin' lizards with fun fur
Shouldn't I try to look again to see within that dark mystic mirror?
Shouldn't I look again? Shaman? Dare I do? It might be dangerous
To become the Shaman's eyes would be so blessed vainglorious?

Would this mean all those many eons ago
like a waif wafting near barfing from unsteady rafters
like a geodesic dome this gal's gyration out of control
could it be that I really thought he was me all along?

The Shaman said "It's that brimming self confidence of yours;
I'm just a figment of your overly vivid imagination"
Sudden he saw me flapping haphazardly flying obtusely on a Flipped Out Trajectory:
Shaman said to all around; "Watch out everyone! Here she goes... She's going to...oh no! too late! She crashed!" Said with a tantalizing smile!

"Woo Hoo" said me to the many splendoured shaped things just donned as perchance I thought I just dreamed. As a glowing recommendation to my mentor I cawed like a crazy crow, "And...Hey Thanks a lot...Shaman! Love being these newly shapeshifting sands by way of Don Juan!

jj

If you feel you should flip out because you need to get out of yourself for awhile or feel the need for speed to become a car by way of dreammachine or find yourself suddenly flying fearlessly without wings on a prayer (that always helps)and if during the next blue moon you feel like swooning; go here my little shapeshifters!

http://fictionalfictionwriter.blogspot.com/2010/09/tfes-

poetry-bus-is-ready-to-roll.html

~~~MAGPIE #29~~~The Forever Cottage

The Forever Cottage

The Cottage unleashes my sunstunned summer daze
The Whipoorwill's calls back to the wood's heady sage

screen door slams in time; come and go
with the do what you will; row row row

soft windchimes tingle tantalizing
captured balmy breezes BBQ's sizzling

lapping waves reach the beach's shore
sounding their eternal song soar

screech of seagulls loom above tropic
lucky to have a poop plop on topic

hot sand run fast and loose
as toes dig deeper feed the moose

into the rippled Lake bottom the kid likes
The Big cool down, for many little tikes

the sweltering blast on the barn door
of Sweet Summer Sweat can I have more?

recovered memories linger longer and longer
forever past today awaits all those tomorrows

smell of coconut bronze everywhere
on bikini-clad barely-there

glare of midday sun
time to take five fun

sticky gooey icy treats eats
or a splash on hot flesh refresh

a great pick me up for
Never go away Summer!

jj

http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/ GO HERE; the cottage is OPEN...if you're ever by the Lake...please drop in!!!



Wasaga Beach (near Allenwood!)

~~~Emily Dickinson A-Poem-A-Day~~"Summer for thee, grant I may be"31/1775~~~+++

Version 1
Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whippowil
And Oriole - are done!

For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me -
Anemone -
Thy flower - forevermore!

[edit] Version 2
Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whipporwill
And Oriole — are done!

For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me —
Anemone —
Thy flower — forevermore!

How does life imitate art? How? How? Very much how. How now brown cow. This is fun! Yes poetry is fun and intrinsic and has a certain "affinity". Definitely! Hopefully.

For me today this wonderful poem of summer reminds me of summer almost come to a close. Sad but true. And I have this feeling that; did I get to see a Whippoorwill again this year or even hear one and I have to say, sadly, no.

Yet this doesnt meant that I will never get to see the elusive Whippoorwill or hear him again like I did years ago in the 60's. Every morning and every evening I would hear the wonderful sound telling me to get up or go to bed. The bird was like an alarm clock. As the sun rose (6am) and as the sunset 9pm in the summer the bird would sound "Whip poor Will, Whip poor Will".

After having such an affinity for the dear Whipoorwill, I thought I'd look up the Whipoorwill to see what he or she looks like! They are cute! And so camoflaged they look like leaves. No wonder I never ever saw one although I use to live in the woods around Allenwood Beach, Ontario. Those were the days!

I guess the closet thing to the Whippoorwill songs that I miss (even though I live fairly close to their natural habitat) is the Mourning Dove. The sad lonely lament of the Mourning Dove Coo Coo. Really sad and mournful. But I still love the way how the doves mate for life and always are together. It is so romantic! The bird family is so romantic! How wonderful is that! (Very!).

Emily does remind me of the natural habitat, of being a "birder" loving to watch birds. Reminds me of another antidote. Recently, well about a year or so ago I was watching these most amazing birds that looked like eagles dancing around the sun. We were worried for our dogs these birds were that big!

After viewing the birds through a trusty set of binoculars I noticed something! "These aren't regal eagles!" These are ugly turkey vultures!".

After that I just thought, Oh great! Turkey vultures, although they do fly well, it just is not the same thing. They are not the majestic bald eagle or the amazing golden eagle.

I got the same feeling lately when looking at the Flight of the Condor. The worlds largest bird. Although they are certainly majestic with what a ten foot wing span or larger, these birds are like turkey vultures; ugly.

If only the vulture birds could get a face lift and look majestic my life would get better!

Hope you enjoyed Emily's poem today. I know I did. Still hoping to live with the eagles one day and not the turkey vultures. Unless they start looking regal, I am going with the eagles! Plus the turkey vultures like carion, eat crap and look like shit. What else is new! Shocking! hehe!Iyes this is a less "clinical" approach to Emily's work I hope you like it! Or would you rather have your druthers that I go back to the technical dissection of Miss Emily (poems that is!). HeHe!

jj

Chiccoreal attempting to Channel the late great Emily Dickinson!

Summers Gone ~ I'm Done

Like a lily on my chest
I'm done
Like dinner
the old Whippoorwill left me
before he left for who knows where
And Dont forget the Orange Orioles
From Baltimore!
Guess there going to where the sun stays
Warm and Sunny
And Holy Molly
Goodbye Birdies
Am I Gonna Die
Then I'll just "transition!" into winter!
(remember I'm not here I'm a Transcendentalist now!)
Sung to the tune From Mary Poppins ~~~"Feed the birds tuppence a bag"
When Summer's Done For Good!

jj

~~~CHICCOREAL'S DRIVIN'!!!On The Poetry Bus~~~ HOLA!!!HOOKUP!!!NOW!!!~~~

From the obtuse desk of Chiccoreal:

ALL PASSENGERS;

IF you want a ticket you have to perform A TASK! AND NOT JUST ANY TASK!!!A task which may be interesting. Would you please write a poem for a free ticket TODAY?

On The Poetry Bus by including ONE of TWO possible tasks. Here they are;

1. I want you to write a poem on the first thing that you think, see, feel, do, taste, etc.,POPS into your head BE IT THE DOUBLE DECKER ON THE POETRY BUS or BE IT A DAGWOOD DOUBLE DECKER SANDWICH IN THE MORNING ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!!! be honest! I MEAN THE FIRST THING YOU DO IN THE A.M. ABSOLUTELY THE FIRST THING!!!

and/or

2. Write a poem about the first song that POPS INTO YOUR HEAD IN THE MORNING. It could be your favourite song, or your least favourite song, or a song that keeps replaying over and over again in the breadbox. This is called an all-day EARWORM and you need to find a good dewormer. It is music in the making and over ripe for writing a poem about.

you may choose;

3. Something off the top of your head, I wont complain a bit. What ever turns your crank, makes your toast pop, gives zing to your zang. I dont feekin care (well maybe feekin might, if Paedar sees this he'll flip me the finger.). Ne'er you mind. Do your own thing, man!

And Remember:


DON'T GRUMBLE
AND don't grouse
All over the house
Or treat Your missus by yawnin'
You'll find it worth your while
To Give Her a Smile
When Gettin' Up in the Mornin'

Anonymous (unless you know who wrote this all time kitch art fav poem)

All On the Poetry Buses Passengers! Because this is an OLD BUS, I am afraid the Linky thingy is not invented as yet!

HAVE FUN FOLKS AND KEEP YOUR ARMS AND HEAD IN THE BUS GUS!

~~~Magpie#28~~~The Day of Sol-i-Mi-Oh~~~Dedicated To The Sparkling and Glowing Willow!!!

She languished in the luxury
Her bath her ardent desire
as heart covered in foamy jets of suds
As her Greek god poured forth nectar sweet

She Glistened with moist ambient energies
her radiance shone like stars through the cosmos
little drops of dew kissed her innoncent forehead
sparks flying fire alighting her ancient desire

Her langour inclined and propped now
His presence felt her mounted feet upon the tiled wall
to receive his waiting gift of aloes
as cupid drew the bath

She knew no other craving like this
His magic power of intent melded her resolve
every hollow in her being overflowed with heaven's opening
This secret chamber of bath and beyond all earthly bliss


upon her forehead like an unguent oil
His words drawn upon her soul
This vessel full of Love
She surrendered Cupid Languid tongue



Oh Sole Mio by the greats!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8TUvcjSNXo&feature=fvstMusic video by Plácido Domingo, Luciano Pavarotti, José Carreras, Orchestra del Teatro dell'Opera di Roma, Orchestra del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Zubin Mehta performing O Sole Mio. (C) 1990 Decca Music Group Limited

~~~EMILY!!!Poem-A-Day~~~"Adrift! A little boat adrift!" 30/1175

Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say — on yesterday —
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say — on yesterday —
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat — o'erspent with gales —
Retrimmed its masts — redecked its sails —
And shot — exultant on!

Poetry by Emily Dickinson

Dear Patient friends of Emily A Day Poetry analysis and creative (hopefully!) much deep and meaningful enjoyment!

Today's poem is in the topic of the nautical theme of crossing over the river Styx to get to the far shore to eternal life. The Greek myth motif mixed with Christian themes seem to be a constant source of inspiration for Emily Dickinson.

Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

In the first stanza Emily is discussing a little boat which is lost seemingly adrift. And there is a storm coming "night is coming down" and no one to "guide" the little boat. The little boat being an analogy to the human soul once departed trying to find the narrow gate to heaven. No one to guide the boat to the nearest town, which is an analogous to the pearly gates of heaven.

So Sailors say — on yesterday —
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So yesterday sailors noted a "little boat" give up its "strife" or life and succumb to the ocean to be "gurgled down and down" maybe to the other way, not towards the glory of the dusk sunset. Yesterday when the soul was alive and not transmuted to pure spirit through death, dying, and transforming or transfiguring to Spirit.

So angels say — on yesterday —
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat — o'erspent with gales —
Retrimmed its masts — redecked its sails —
And shot — exultant on!

Now in the last stanza there are angels instead of sailors yet it is still yesterday, so the living with the spirit angels. Emily is telling us that angels live amongst us while we live, just as the sailors also live. The analogy to angels and sailors is interesting here. Maybe Emily means that we are being guided by those who "entertain angels unawares" (Bible).

The living sailors replaced with the spiritual counterparts, angels of infinity. The dawn of one's life is an analogy for being alive while the sunset is an analogy to death and dying. The dawn is red, as is the dusk, the repeating patterns are the same just as birth and death although opposite are very similar in the opposite ends of beginning from end being tied together in the middle.

As always, another red imagery in the dusk and dawn which is always employed by Miss Emily. As she does use red in pertetuity by Ms Emily! Emily obviously loves the drama of red, crimson, basically anything red, be it leaves or scarves, etc. as noted in her previous poems.

Red could be representing the precious blood of Jesus, and indeed a colour with great metaphysical and spiritual meaning for this ethereal Transdentalist. (not sure if Emily is studying Transcendalism at this time, however, here symbols do have the same images as the Transcendalist school I believe. It will be interesting to note the connections here as we progress.)

So when the boat "retrimmed its mast and redected its sails" because of the gales of life trying to drown the boat or mortal soul (all analogy here folks). As well we realize that Emily is really talking about how a sinner can clean up his/her act and progress to heaven (after saying the sinner's prayer perhaps?). Heaven, which seems to be only entered at dusk or dawn for Ms Emily. That hour of our death; the sunset.
And "shot - exultant on!" as the little boat clearly sails right through to eternity. Those narrow gates being open for a brief setting moment of splendour and glory. A smart poem, very brilliant as usual Miss Emily!

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Adrift!_A_little_boat_adrift!


Chiccoreal's take on "Adrift a little boat adrift!"


Small boat is drifting
drifting away
haplessly lost
without direction
as the final curtain calls
the red encroaching sunset
gales whipped up to swallow
the small soul tolls await
the small boat life begins
at sunset
the small life boat bobs aimlessly
as we like boats adrift
Wait to for the Capn
to come aboard this
soon to be night
Yet
with intent and purpose
by retrim of mast
by redeck of sail
Onward Sunset Soldier
Shoot through to Skyward Ho!

jj