After Emily Dickinson’s death,
her sister Lavinia discovered
more than 1800 poems
among her things.
Publishing a scant
ten poems anonymously
in life,
Dickinson had poems
pouring from her pen,
seeping through her pores.
While adult Emily Dickinson
rarely left her family home,
she wrote constantly.
Thousands of letters,
bits of poetry
on scraps of paper,
corners of envelopes,
stuffed in pockets.
Dickinson wrote
of nature,
love,
death,
life,
hope.
Quietly working
in her corner of Amherst,
Dickinson lived a life of letters —
in her head.
The question
remains…
what waits
percolating
in your head?
A Reading Life 
Good morning, posting buddy! I adore this slice about Emily. You capture the intrigue and essence so well in your lines. My favorite-
“pouring from her pen,
seeping through her pores.”
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Such a lovely piece of writing that fully captures her prolific writing as well as that interesting divide between the public and private Emilys.
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Love to think about Emily D. her gardens and her writing life. So much to say but she struggled so with health. It does make us think about what we have to share and how we get our voices out into the world.
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That quiet life, as a life of letters, and on themes universal and important… I love Emily Dickerson and appreciate this reminder to get back into my anthology. And your closing challenge…!!!
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Lovely poem – I appreciate how it simultaneously shares information about Dickinson and draws the reader in by assuming that we, too, have something “percolating”. The lines “Dickinson had poems/
pouring from her pen,/ seeping through her pores” really caught my attention with their wordplay.
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