Hot Best Seller

Poems (Shambhala Pocket Classics)

Availability: Ready to download

Considered by many to be the spiritual mother of American poetry, Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was one of the most prolific and innovative poets of her era. Well-known for her reclusive personal life in Amherst, Massachusetts, her distinctively short lines, and eccentric approach to punctuation and capitalization, she completed over seventeen hundred poems in her short life Considered by many to be the spiritual mother of American poetry, Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was one of the most prolific and innovative poets of her era. Well-known for her reclusive personal life in Amherst, Massachusetts, her distinctively short lines, and eccentric approach to punctuation and capitalization, she completed over seventeen hundred poems in her short life. Though fewer than a dozen of her poems were actually published during her lifetime, she is still one of the most widely read poets in the English language. Over one hundred of her best poems are collected here.


Compare

Considered by many to be the spiritual mother of American poetry, Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was one of the most prolific and innovative poets of her era. Well-known for her reclusive personal life in Amherst, Massachusetts, her distinctively short lines, and eccentric approach to punctuation and capitalization, she completed over seventeen hundred poems in her short life Considered by many to be the spiritual mother of American poetry, Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was one of the most prolific and innovative poets of her era. Well-known for her reclusive personal life in Amherst, Massachusetts, her distinctively short lines, and eccentric approach to punctuation and capitalization, she completed over seventeen hundred poems in her short life. Though fewer than a dozen of her poems were actually published during her lifetime, she is still one of the most widely read poets in the English language. Over one hundred of her best poems are collected here.

30 review for Poems (Shambhala Pocket Classics)

  1. 4 out of 5

    Ahmad Sharabiani

    Emily Dickinson: Poems, Emily Dickinson Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us--don't tell They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day !To an admiring bog. شعرهای امیلی دیکنسون؛ تاریخ خوانش: روز بیست و چهارم ماه سپتامبر سال 2016 میلادی من هیچکسم! تو کیستی؟ آیا تو نیز «هیچکسی»؟ پس اینگونه ما دوتاییم! فاش مکن!؛ زیرا تبعیدمان می Emily Dickinson: Poems, Emily Dickinson Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us--don't tell They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day !To an admiring bog. شعرهای امیلی دیکنسون؛ تاریخ خوانش: روز بیست و چهارم ماه سپتامبر سال 2016 میلادی من هیچکسم! تو کیستی؟ آیا تو نیز «هیچکسی»؟ پس این‌گونه ما دوتاییم! فاش مکن!؛ زیرا تبعیدمان می‌کنند!؛ چقدر ملالت‌ آور است «کسی» بودن!؛ چقدر مبتذل! بمانند قورباغه‌ ای تمام روز، یک بند، اسم خود را، برای لجنزاری ستایشگر، تکرار کردن!؛ ا. شربیانی

  2. 5 out of 5

    Cheryl

    Sweet skepticism of the Heart- That knows - and does not know- Sometimes there is only one place to go: within, where the mind and body communicate poetically. Those poets of her time, they stayed securely snuggled into their worlds, while she traversed the unbeaten paths around them, creating abstract spaces made tangible through musicality. They stayed within their conformed art and hers elevated both the physical and mental, while she wrote from a house they deemed her prison, but one that wou Sweet skepticism of the Heart- That knows - and does not know- Sometimes there is only one place to go: within, where the mind and body communicate poetically. Those poets of her time, they stayed securely snuggled into their worlds, while she traversed the unbeaten paths around them, creating abstract spaces made tangible through musicality. They stayed within their conformed art and hers elevated both the physical and mental, while she wrote from a house they deemed her prison, but one that would become this artist's fortress. Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? "She was aware of external standards but did not strive to adhere to them." They wrote with one accord, while she created her own rules: dashes to replace punctuation, incorrect spelling, melancholia refined through unique language and made beautiful on the page. Shame is the shawl of Pink In which we wrap the Soul To keep it from infesting Eyes- The elemental Veil She didn't marry, didn't do many of the things expected of a woman living in her century. In fact it took a while for her art to be seriously recognized. Still, she wrote. She wrote to figure out the pain she lived with. She wrote to conquer her fears. She wrote to bring us introspection through the word. And when she had no friends, when she was betrayed by lovers, she wrote about the solace she found in Nature, the peace she found in the still of the universe. My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word - Over the years, I've read a few of her poems here and there, but this edition, this collection, is my favorite. It is one to have on the shelf and revisit. I stayed with this for some time, savored Dickinson's words, viewed the world through her poet's eyes, as I followed the chronological organization of her poems. The poems are arranged according to years, 1850 and onwards, towards the 1880s, around the time of her death (although the numbering is different which is a bit annoying because Dickinson's poems rely on numbers as titles). 1877 I think is my favorite year, when some of her longer poems occur, at times both scathingly introspective and inclusive of the natural world, confident, opinionated.

  3. 5 out of 5

    Coos Burton

    Este poemario me vino perfecto para atravesar unos meses difíciles donde realmente necesitaba volcarme en algo que no fuera prosa. La poesía siempre me acompaña cuando las cosas se ponen turbias, y los poemas de Dickinson siempre me dieron refugio. Seguramente relea mil veces más este bello poemario, que por cierto, destaco de esta edición puntual la acertada traducción de Silvina Ocampo.

  4. 4 out of 5

    Roberto

    "To die before one fears to die may be a boon" Ho visto al cinema, sabato scorso il film "A quiet Passion", che descrive la vita di Emily Dickinson. Ebbene, mi ha incantato. Non solo il film è (a mio parere) girato in modo meraviglioso per scenografia, musica, cast e dialoghi (nonostante sia un film lento, tristissimo e probabilmente non per gli amanti del genere Star Wars); raccorda la vita di Emily e la sua poesia in modo incredibilmente efficace e ha avuto l'effetto di stimolarmi a leggere alcu "To die before one fears to die may be a boon" Ho visto al cinema, sabato scorso il film "A quiet Passion", che descrive la vita di Emily Dickinson. Ebbene, mi ha incantato. Non solo il film è (a mio parere) girato in modo meraviglioso per scenografia, musica, cast e dialoghi (nonostante sia un film lento, tristissimo e probabilmente non per gli amanti del genere Star Wars); raccorda la vita di Emily e la sua poesia in modo incredibilmente efficace e ha avuto l'effetto di stimolarmi a leggere alcune delle sue poesie che avevo da anni in libreria. Ed è scattato l'amore per tutti quei sentimenti che sono chiaramente espressi dietro le poche e precise parole che Emily ha usato. Quando sottolinea la sua intenzione di non essere famosa, perché esser famosi significa doversi comportare in accordo al proprio personaggio, come una rana nel pantano: "Io sono Nessuno! Tu chi sei? Sei Nessuno anche tu? Allora siamo in due! Non dirlo! Potrebbero spargere la voce! Che grande peso essere Qualcuno! Così volgare — come una rana che gracida il tuo nome — tutto giugno — ad un pantano in estasi di lei!" O quando parla della morte, non temuta ma anzi attesa come transizione a una vita eterna migliore: "Poichè non potevo fermarmi per la morte lei gentilmente si fermò per me La carrozza portava solo noi due e l’immortalità Andavamo piano, ignorava la fretta e io avevo abbandonato il mio lavoro e il mio riposo per la sua cortesia Passammo oltre la scuola dove i bambini nell’intervallo facevano la lotta in cortile Passammo campi di grano che ci fissavano Passammo oltre il tramonto o piuttosto fu lui a oltrepassarci Scesero rugiade tremanti e gelide solo garza il mio vestito, il mio mantello di tulle Ci fermammo a una casa che sembrava un gonfiore della terra Il tetto era appena visibile il cornicione sepolto nel suo oro Da allora sono secoli eppure sembrano più brevi del giorno che intuii per la prima volta che le teste dei cavalli erano rivolte all’eterno." Parole e film che mi rimarranno dentro a lungo.

  5. 5 out of 5

    Rita

    #31 They shut me up in Prose- As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet Because they liked me "still"- Still!Could themself have peeped- And seen my Brain-go round- They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason-in the Pound- Himself has but to will And easy as a Star Abolish his Captivity- And laugh-No more have I- I tried very hard to appreciate Emily Dickinson, in fact I read this collection of her poetry twice, but most of her poetry left me cold. The vast majority of her poetry was not publish #31 They shut me up in Prose- As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet Because they liked me "still"- Still!Could themself have peeped- And seen my Brain-go round- They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason-in the Pound- Himself has but to will And easy as a Star Abolish his Captivity- And laugh-No more have I- I tried very hard to appreciate Emily Dickinson, in fact I read this collection of her poetry twice, but most of her poetry left me cold. The vast majority of her poetry was not published until after her death in 1886. Her poems are mainly about flowers and death. She numbered her poems rather than name them. If this review seems clinical it's because I don't sense any real emotion in her poetry. Emily was a recluse but she did have friends that she corresponded with regularly. Some say that she suffered from agoraphobia. She lived a very limited life, in my opinion. I'm afraid that all I could give her was 2.5 stars. I have no desire to read anymore of her poetry. I guess my preference runs towards the more modern. Posted January 27, 2018

  6. 4 out of 5

    Teresa

    Como todas as minhas palavras de amor para Dickinson serão ridículas (obrigada Álvaro de Campos), transcrevo as de Bloom — e as Dela. "A força da sua poesia é indubitável, como a da Bíblia, de Shakespeare, de Blake e de Whitman. Apenas se irá tornar um desafio cada vez maior à medida que passem os séculos. Como Whitman, ela há-de deter-se algures, à nossa espera." Harold Bloom ______________________________ "Mostrei-lhe Cumes que ela nunca vira — «Sobes?», disse eu Ela disse — «Não» — «Comigo» — disse Como todas as minhas palavras de amor para Dickinson serão ridículas (obrigada Álvaro de Campos), transcrevo as de Bloom — e as Dela. "A força da sua poesia é indubitável, como a da Bíblia, de Shakespeare, de Blake e de Whitman. Apenas se irá tornar um desafio cada vez maior à medida que passem os séculos. Como Whitman, ela há-de deter-se algures, à nossa espera." Harold Bloom ______________________________ "Mostrei-lhe Cumes que ela nunca vira — «Sobes?», disse eu Ela disse — «Não» — «Comigo» — disse eu — Comigo? Mostrei-lhe Segredos — o Ninho da Manhã — A Corda que as Noites estenderam — E agora — «Convidas-me a ficar?» Ela não soube bem se dizer Sim — E então, eu afrouxei a minha vida — E Para ela, ali brilhou solene, a Luz, Tão mais quanto mais longe a sua face — Como podia ela, ainda, dizer «Não»?" ______________________________ "A Dor — tem um Elemento de Branco — Não consegue lembrar O seu início — ou se existiu Um tempo em que não foi — Não tem Futuro — só em si — O Sem Fim contém O seu Passado — pronto a discernir Novos Períodos — de Dor." _____________________________ "Dizem que o «Tempo acalma» — Nunca o tempo acalmou — A dor real é que se faz mais tensa Como os Tendões, com a idade — O Tempo é uma Prova de Tormento — Mas não o seu Remédio — E se tal coisa prova, também prova Que não houve Doença —" ______________________________ Cem poemas a ler..."Para sempre — é composto de Agoras — Não é um tempo diferente — Excepto pela Infinidade — E Latitude de Lar — Disto — Aqui experimentado — Tirem-se a Estes — as Datas — Que os Meses se dissolvam noutros Meses — E os Anos — se dissipem noutros Anos — Sem Debate — nem Pausa — Nem Feriado a Cumprir — Não seriam diferentes os Nossos Anos Do Anno Domini —" ...para sempre —

  7. 4 out of 5

    Matt

    I've read a fair bit of her poetry and all I can say is that it astounds me, seduces me, challenges me, enlightens me. I can't lay claim to being any kind of expert but I love her vision, her way of seeing, her developing a highly idiosyncratic personal language that is informed by previous poetic tradition but that resolutely bends the note and pushes it forward. "Making it new" before it was cool, before they even had a name for it. I'm actually kind of hesitant to read more of her because I I've read a fair bit of her poetry and all I can say is that it astounds me, seduces me, challenges me, enlightens me. I can't lay claim to being any kind of expert but I love her vision, her way of seeing, her developing a highly idiosyncratic personal language that is informed by previous poetic tradition but that resolutely bends the note and pushes it forward. "Making it new" before it was cool, before they even had a name for it. I'm actually kind of hesitant to read more of her because I think I'm not ready yet...her power is exhausting and exhaustive...

  8. 5 out of 5

    L

    "I found the words to every thought I ever had - but One - And that - defies Me - As a Hand did try to chalk the Sun To Races - nurtured in the Dark - How would your Own - begin? Can Blaze be shown in Cochineal - Or Noon - in Mazarin?"

  9. 4 out of 5

    Barnabas Piper

    I’ve tried a few times to get into Dickinson’s poetry. I just don’t get it or connect with it at all.

  10. 4 out of 5

    Simona

    Questa non è una vera e propria recensione, ma racconta le emozioni che questa raccolta mi ha regalato. Le poesie, le parole di Emily Dickinson vanno gustate, assaporate e sorseggiate proprio come una tazza di tè. I suoi versi allietano il cuore e l'anima regalando armonia. "Se io potrò impediare a un cuore di spezzarsi non avrò vissuto invano. Se allevierò il dolore di una vita o guarirò una pena o aiuterò un pettirosso caduto a rientrare nel nido non avrò vissuto invano"

  11. 5 out of 5

    Evi *

    Era un sabato mattino che succedeva ad una notte quasi insonne e affollata di problemi in forma di mostri invincibili, il mattino, già di per sé, con la sua alba dalle dita rosate, rischiara il nero della notte, ma può molto anche la lettura in punta di giorno di poesia in genere, la poesia ha questo potere benefico e terapeutico. nella fattispecie sono stati i versi di Emily Dickinson, tonico, balsamo che lenisce i dolori, amplifica l’essere, rinfranca il sentirsi vicini a un’anima bella e prof Era un sabato mattino che succedeva ad una notte quasi insonne e affollata di problemi in forma di mostri invincibili, il mattino, già di per sé, con la sua alba dalle dita rosate, rischiara il nero della notte, ma può molto anche la lettura in punta di giorno di poesia in genere, la poesia ha questo potere benefico e terapeutico. nella fattispecie sono stati i versi di Emily Dickinson, tonico, balsamo che lenisce i dolori, amplifica l’essere, rinfranca il sentirsi vicini a un’anima bella e profonda come quella della poetessa americana. Questa raccolta di poesie di Emily Dickinson, omaggiata anni or sono dal Corriere della Sera, forse non contiene il meglio della sua produzione, non mi è chiaro il criterio con cui le poesie vi sono riunite, non c’è alcun apparato critico (non che sia necessario perché le liriche sono di immediato impatto), né mi permetto di disquisire sulla bontà della traduzione. Lo considero comunque un assaggio della sua sterminata produzione, lei che versificò più di 1700 poesie quasi 80 all’anno, tutte senza titolo, mai pubblicate in vita per una ritrosia che sempre la contraddistinse. Emily è una creatura selvatica, solitaria, ribelle nella sua decisione di non mettere più piede fuori casa e di trascorrere tutta una vita chiusa in una stanza, ribelle nella sua passione di poetessa che non lasciò posto ad alcuna altra attività, insubordinata anche nell’abbigliamento sempre e soltanto di bianco vestita, non viaggiò mai, limitando il suo orizzonte visivo al giardino della residenza di famiglia. Tutto questo non le impedì di far librare la sua fantasia innalzando versi bellissimi oltre lo spicchio di cielo che vedeva al di là delle finestre della sua camera, rincorrendo e cogliendo l’anelito di infinito che provò a di racchiudere dentro la gabbia di brevi poesie, tentò di penetrare l’enigma della morte, cercò di scacciare il cuore di tenebra della disperazione, ma pure, in un multiformismo sorprendente, abbassò i suoi temi cantando l’economia della vita quotidiana e domestica: un ragno che tesse il suo gomitolo d’argento, la vita di un filo d erba che segue il suo ciclo fino a diventare fieno, il volo dell’ape, le stagioni, la natura. Leggere, leggere poesia, costa meno di un antidepressivo, di un ricostituente chimico, meno di un pacchetto di sigarette, molto, molto meno di un’ora da uno psicoanalista, e soprattutto non ha mai, mai controindicazioni né effetti collaterali, forse l’unico quello di provare a farci toccare con un dito l’eternità per poi farci ripiombare con un tonfo sul nudo e duro pavimento della realtà. Se più non fossi viva Quando verranno i pettirossi, Date a quello con la cravatta rossa Per ricordo una briciola. Se non potessi ringraziarvi Perché immersa nel bel sonno, Sappiate che mi sforzo Con le mie labbra di granito ..................... Ciò che temevo venne, Ma meno spaventoso, Perché il lungo timore L'aveva quasi abbellito. Ci si abitua all'angoscia, Alla disperazione. Peggio saper che viene Che saperla presente. Chi indossa la sua pena Il mattino che è nuova Soffre più che a portarla Un'intera esistenza. .......... L’incertezza è più ostile della morte. la morte, anche se vasta, è soltanto la morte e non può crescere. all’incertezza invece non v’è limite, perisce per risorgere e morire di nuovo, è l’unione del Nulla con l’Immortalità

  12. 4 out of 5

    Laurel Hicks

    THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty. Her message is committed To hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, Judge tenderly of me!

  13. 4 out of 5

    Louis

    Every time I dive into a poetry bundle, I tend to read it as you would a regular novel: from back to back. I realize now that is silly. You cannot force yourself unto poetry. Poetry has to come to you. It should seep into your life slowly, one verse at a time. That being said, Emily Dickinson is a master of her craft. I happened upon this special edition (leathery touch) and couldn't resist a purchase. I have a rather tentative affair with poetry; most of the time, especially with large-scale, ep Every time I dive into a poetry bundle, I tend to read it as you would a regular novel: from back to back. I realize now that is silly. You cannot force yourself unto poetry. Poetry has to come to you. It should seep into your life slowly, one verse at a time. That being said, Emily Dickinson is a master of her craft. I happened upon this special edition (leathery touch) and couldn't resist a purchase. I have a rather tentative affair with poetry; most of the time, especially with large-scale, epic poems, I feel as though the literary works fly right over my head. Not so with Dickinson's poetry. Rather than focusing on mythology, she takes aspects from everyday life and vividly describes it in a myriad of perspectives, often personifying natural elements. Because I can easily identify myself with its contents, they often left an emotional impact in their wake. "She went as quiet as the dew From a familiar flower. Not like the dew did she return At the accustomed hour! She dropt as softly as a star From out my summer's eve; Less skillful than Leverrier It's sorer to believe!" This collection is truly a gem. I am hoping to expand my poetical tastes this year (a.o. with Rumi, maybe Haiku poets...) but for now I will indulge in this vibrant, energetic set of poems (and probably for many years to come).

  14. 5 out of 5

    Briar's Reviews

    This is an absolutely lovely set of poetry. I would definitely recommend picking up this book if you are interested in reading works by Emily Dickinson. It was an absolute pleasure to sit down and finally read some work by this literary great! Poetry bundles are honestly one of the greatest achievements in literature. They are the type of anthologies we truly need! I'm glad someone decided to put this book together. It was a personal goal to just read something by Emily Dickinson. Sometimes I ju This is an absolutely lovely set of poetry. I would definitely recommend picking up this book if you are interested in reading works by Emily Dickinson. It was an absolute pleasure to sit down and finally read some work by this literary great! Poetry bundles are honestly one of the greatest achievements in literature. They are the type of anthologies we truly need! I'm glad someone decided to put this book together. It was a personal goal to just read something by Emily Dickinson. Sometimes I just want to sit down and read a classic without any strings attached. I'd highly recommend her work if you're interested in poetry. Five out of five stars. What a lovely collection!

  15. 4 out of 5

    Lou KR

    Admirada por la poesía de esta mujer.

  16. 5 out of 5

    Fabián Tapia

    Increíble. Nadie había podido retratar mejor el sentimiento de muerte y angustia que Dickinson.

  17. 5 out of 5

    Morena

    3.5 stars

  18. 5 out of 5

    Peter Landau

    All the poems of Emily Dickinson have been sitting on a shelf in my living room for over a year. When we moved to our new home I put most of my books in the garage, there are too many, even for the larger house. But the living room has built-in shelves and on them I placed those books I’ve wanted to read more than the rest, at least so I felt at the time. Emily Dickinson’s poems were among them. But it’s such a long book, over 600 pages! I read the smaller ones first, wedded for no reason to the All the poems of Emily Dickinson have been sitting on a shelf in my living room for over a year. When we moved to our new home I put most of my books in the garage, there are too many, even for the larger house. But the living room has built-in shelves and on them I placed those books I’ve wanted to read more than the rest, at least so I felt at the time. Emily Dickinson’s poems were among them. But it’s such a long book, over 600 pages! I read the smaller ones first, wedded for no reason to the somewhat random selection I culled from my collection. Then I finished a book on Andrew Jackson and the great land grab from the Cherokees, which ended just about the time Dickinson started writing. It’s seemed right. At first the poems helped me slow down. I remember the old Evelyn Wood speed reading ads when I was young, the secret being skimming, and I’ve had a bad tendency to do just that ever since. But Dickinson’s rhymes that started off on course and then veered into uncharted territories made me pay close attention. I wouldn’t recommended reading her entire output at once like I did, but it does create a portrait of the artist as a pattern of words. She mentions Jews four times and rabbi once, I recall, and not always admiringly. I also learned where Woody Allen got the title for his second collection of humorous stories, WITHOUT FEATHERS. Dickinson writes about hope being the thing with feathers, or something like that. Get it? But all this is trivial. What’s more interesting is why do I continue to crack open books of poetry? I don’t understand poetry. It passes by me like a foreign language. You know how watching a Spanish soap opera if you don’t know Spanish makes the proceedings feel more dramatic, more hilarious, more surreal? That’s poetry for me. It carries me with it on its current, how I don’t know and where it takes me is also a mystery. But it’s that incomprehensibleness, at least for me, which is it’s value. Meaning is overrated. Well, meaning can be meaningful but meaning doesn’t only mean breaking something down to figure out how it works or what it represents. There’s other ways of meaning, like poetry for me. I can remove the burden of truth and convict on the grounds of sheer, weird sensation. It’s superficial but who says there’s anything under the surface that’s better?

  19. 5 out of 5

    Trish

    The first time I consciously had contact with Emily Dickinson's poetry was when author and illustrator Chris Riddell posted one of his beautiful sketches on facebook decorating one of her poems. After that I knew I had to have a collection of her works. Then I discovered the World Cloud Classics and it was the perfect edition in my opinion (this being the 3rd I have now). I must say that I love poetry, always have, and although I don't always favour the kind of analysis being done in school (we al The first time I consciously had contact with Emily Dickinson's poetry was when author and illustrator Chris Riddell posted one of his beautiful sketches on facebook decorating one of her poems. After that I knew I had to have a collection of her works. Then I discovered the World Cloud Classics and it was the perfect edition in my opinion (this being the 3rd I have now). I must say that I love poetry, always have, and although I don't always favour the kind of analysis being done in school (we all had to get through that), I do see and acknowledge autobiographical elements in works. Here, as with Walt Whitman for example, it is remarkable that isolation and sickness resulted in the most fruitful creative period. What always gets to me is the tragedy of such lives and that in many cases (as with Emily Dickinson) none or only a handful of the works were being published / recognized while the author was alive, the true impact and significance of the works to be discovered only later. And now for the poems themselves: Amazing as it might be considering that the author spent almost all of her life indoors, her poems are of a wide range. Not actually knowing much of the world around her didn't stop her from writing about it (her favourite themes being nature and love, death and immortality, but also renunciation). The prose is beautiful, I have no other word for it. To me it seemed like she must have been a quiet person but very intelligent and with powerful words; everyday-words artfully crafted into profound messages. I guess that is what I love so much about her. Example: „To make a prairie it takes a clover and a bee, one clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.” One of my teachers once said "The shorter the story, the more important every single word." and Emily Dickinson is proving that. Another example of a short poem that still has full impact: "A word is dead When it is said, Some say - I say it just Begins to live That day." Or: "I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the Heather looks And what a wave must be." I could have included all those poems as pictures but somehow enjoyed tiping them myself. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Also, I could go on like this forever since there wasn't a single poem I really disliked, but the following one shall conclude my review since you are probably all getting my point. It's the poem docarated by Chris Riddell's illustration that started it all.

  20. 5 out of 5

    Baylee

    Puoi trovare questa recensione anche sul mio blog ---> La siepe di more Ma secondo voi è normale che io, nonostante sia consapevole che Emily Dickinson sia una delle maggiori poetesse statunitensi, continui a immaginarla nella campagna inglese? Ogni volta che leggevo una delle sue poesie “naturaliste”, la mia mente partoriva pensieri come “che bella descrizione della campagna inglese”. Questo tanto per darvi un'idea dello stato brado della mia mente e del perché vi chiami “prodi seguaci”... Com Puoi trovare questa recensione anche sul mio blog ---> La siepe di more Ma secondo voi è normale che io, nonostante sia consapevole che Emily Dickinson sia una delle maggiori poetesse statunitensi, continui a immaginarla nella campagna inglese? Ogni volta che leggevo una delle sue poesie “naturaliste”, la mia mente partoriva pensieri come “che bella descrizione della campagna inglese”. Questo tanto per darvi un'idea dello stato brado della mia mente e del perché vi chiami “prodi seguaci”... Comunque, parliamo di Emily Dickinson, poetessa americana. Inizierei col dire che la Dickinson era una donna ribelle: cominciò con il rifiutarsi di professarsi pubblicamente cristiana e finì per isolarsi volontariamente nella sua stanza, in modo che i suoi pensieri e le sue poesie fluissero copiose e libere dalla sua mente. Nonostante il suo isolamento, infatti, la Dickinson avvertiva chiaramente le tensioni del suo tempo: l'abisso che si faceva spazio tra la tradizione e il nuovo individualismo, tra il puritanesimo e il capitalismo. In pochi colsero la portata innovativa delle sue poesie: Thomas Wentworth Higginson, critico dell'Atlantic Monthly con il quale Emily Dickinson instaurò una lunga corrispondenza, definì i suoi versi “spasmodici”. Va anche detto, però, che il poveretto è passato alla storia per non aver capito un tubo della poetessa. Lei stessa ne era consapevole (e probabilmente l'ha pure, elegantemente e poeticamente, sfottuto un po' per questo), ma si rifiutò di “sistemare” le sue poesie affinché Higginson – e coloro che la pensavano come lui – le trovassero di loro gradimento. A favore del poveruomo va detto, però, che grazie a lui ci sono giunte molte informazioni sulla Dickinson e queste ci hanno aiutato ad avere un'idea più chiara di lei. Personalmente, sono rimasta folgorata dalla potenza della gioia di vivere e parimenti dall'abisso di dolore che sprigionano i componimenti della Dickinson. Se la sua vita sembrava insostenibilmente monotona, la sua interiorità era fervida e ricca, tanto che la vita della Dickinson si racconta più in termini di riflessioni che in termini di fatti strettamente biografici. Il mio consiglio è di leggere le sue poesie, almeno una volta nella vita. Nella brevità dei suoi versi è racchiusa una potenza che, secondo me, va provata.

  21. 5 out of 5

    Linda

    What can I say. it's Emily Dickinson...that's what I can say. beautiful, rhythmic... the occasional footnote and words written by her personal friends complete her personal letter to me, you and every reader, past and future.

  22. 4 out of 5

    allieereads

    Her words are transcendent and of you have not read Emily Dickinson’s Work, I urge you to as soon as possible!

  23. 5 out of 5

    27

    Her poetry either makes me feel sovereign or creaking inside my bones. Reading for her is really— a bewilderment.

  24. 5 out of 5

    C

    Emily Dickinson's poems are, in short, amazing. Her linguistic brilliance always dazzles me. Unfortunately, Johanna Brownell has done her best to destroy a great deal of what makes Dickinson's poetry so powerful and beautiful. In our time, when women authors find their book covers stamped with roses and lace in a editor's effort to make them more "marketable" to a wider audience whom s/he assumes would never pick up a woman's book that is not about domesticity and conformity, Brownell's presence Emily Dickinson's poems are, in short, amazing. Her linguistic brilliance always dazzles me. Unfortunately, Johanna Brownell has done her best to destroy a great deal of what makes Dickinson's poetry so powerful and beautiful. In our time, when women authors find their book covers stamped with roses and lace in a editor's effort to make them more "marketable" to a wider audience whom s/he assumes would never pick up a woman's book that is not about domesticity and conformity, Brownell's presence in literature is rather terrifying. I'll make sure to avoid Castle Books like the plague in the future. Brownell is not an acceptable anthologizer of poetry, nor does she at all seem professionally qualified to edit Dickinson. She normalizes Dickinson's punctuation, de-capitalizing nouns and verbs, eliminates dashes, changes the complex (and correct) slant rhymes to true rhymes, and randomly replaces words. By doing so, Brownell has done more than imply that she knows what Dickinson wants to say better than Dickinson does. She has continued - either consciously or unconsciously - the long and frustrating tradition of simplifying Dickinson so as to make her an "acceptable" version of "femininity" in poetry. It's obvious that for Brownell, Dickinson's poetry is cutesy and conventional, with no hint of linguistic experimentation or mental agility. For example, let's look at one of Dickinson's most controversial (and kick-ass) poems: I'm "wife" - I've finished that - That other state - I'm Czar - I'm "Woman" now - It's safer so - How odd the Girl's life looks Behind this soft Eclipse - I think that Earth feels so To folks in Heaven - now - This being comfort - then That other kind - was pain - But why compare? I'm "Wife"! Stop there! With the exception of two exclamation points and the question mark in the last stanza, Dickinson has no normalized punctuation. Instead, she uses her trademark dashes - perhaps to mark where the reader should pause for breath, to indicate a change in rhythm, to allude to a missing word, or to call into question the relations of the phrases on either side of the dash. A good example of this ambiguity (and why this ambiguity is integral to Dickinson's poetry) are the lines "To folks in Heaven - now -/ This being comfort - then/ That other kind." With "now" separated by the pause, it's impossible to say for sure to what words it is referring. Is it to the "folks in Heaven" or to "This being comfort"? Why is "then" not followed by a similar dash? Does it describe "comfort" as the past tense, or "That other kind" as the logical next step after comfort? If the latter (to which the grammar seems to gesture), why does the line syntactically match the previous line as if to suggest a similar relationship? As readers, we cannot know why Dickinson has made these lines so ambiguous. Dickinson was fascinated with the unknowable, the mysterious, and the hidden, and a "meaning" of a poem to her would not necessarily be something stable or finite. In this poem, the pauses in part emphasize the speaker's hesitating logic. She is not sure what Earth or Heaven "feels" like, and the boundary between "pain" and "comfort" in the context of marriage (or religion, or several other subjects) is troubled, a sensation doubled by the stare quotes around the words "'Wife'" and "'Woman.'" The speaker calls into question the definition of either of these words and, before she can reach a conclusion about them, she "Stop[s] there!" She leaves the reader in the lurch, unsure of the benefits of marriage or of the definition of his/her own sexuality in the context of the poem. If we couple the accurate version of the poem with Brownell's travesty, much of the ambiguity has been smothered, making the poem a traditional representation of a 19th-century marriage: I'M wife; I've finished that, That other state; I'm Czar, I'm woman now: It's safer so. How odd the little girl's life looks Behind this soft eclipse! I think that earth seems so To those in heaven now. This being comfort, then That other kind was pain; But why compare? I'm wife! stop there! There is no question as to whether Brownell thinks this poem is about wifedom's superiority to the "little girl's life." We now know that "those in heaven" ("folk in heaven" is just too bewildering and interesting a juxtaposition) are "now" thinking of how earth "seems" (they do not, for whatever reason, "feel" this difference anymore). What's more, "woman" and "wife" are not fluid, socially-determined, or mental states of being. One is "comfort," while the "other kind" is "pain." In Brownell's version, the reader is indeed left wondering "why compare?" Why read Dickinson at all? What's a woman writer for, anyway, if she's not delegated to the realm of the more accessible chick lit or children's literature? And what is Castle thinking, hiring a woman who is so clearly not versed in American Renaissance poetry to edit one of the most influential female poets since Sappho? Dickinson's word choice, syntax, sound, and punctuation were deliberate, thought-out, and necessary - to change them in such a fashion is to mangle the poem. Why are we still discussing this fact in 2011? I should probably provide an analysis of the misogynistic implications of their choice of editor, but I think it would make me feel ill. And then there's the fact that Brownell titles the poems and sections them off as "Love" (of whom?), "Life," "Time and Eternity," and other similarly breezy concepts. Perhaps my bitterness comes from the fact that Brownell's pastiche was my first encounter with Dickinson's poetry in middle school. Unsurprisingly, it led me to conclude that Dickinson was curiously boring and incomprehensible. I was lucky to continue studies in literature and return to Dickinson in a better edition. It infuriates me that Brownell had so flippantly cheated me of what should have been a revelatory experience. Anyone will immediately notice Dickinson's genius in a decently compiled version. I recommend Thomas H. Johnson's edition (published by Back Bay Books), which is a complete collection of Dickinson that is much more carefully edited.

  25. 4 out of 5

    Jamieanna

    This was my second time reading this edition of the poems all the way through. This time I could see trends in the poems more clearly, as well as stark differences in quality and mood across Dickinson’s lifetime. Different poems jumped out at me than before, and I’m sure there are still others hidden for me to discover in the future.

  26. 5 out of 5

    Kenneth Wade

    I used to feel a deep connection with Dickinson’s work, but unfortunately I don’t any longer. Other than 1 or 2 poems, I found these to be very dull and obtuse. I’m not giving a star rating because I don’t feel like I’m the right person to critique Dickinson’s work. I’m sure it holds value for others, but I can’t say the same for myself.

  27. 4 out of 5

    Damiana

    4-/5

  28. 5 out of 5

    Sonia Jarmula

    So good to read poetry that is beautiful and has something to say.

  29. 4 out of 5

    Dr. Carl Ludwig Dorsch

    [Received April 26, 1862:] MR. HIGGINSON,--Your kindness claimed earlier gratitude, but I was ill, and write to-day from my pillow. Thank you for the surgery; it was not so painful as I supposed. I bring you others, as you ask, though they might not differ. While my thought is undressed, I can make the distinction; but when I put them in the gown, they look alike and numb. You asked how old I was? I made no verse, but one or two, until this winter, sir. I had a terror since September, I could te [Received April 26, 1862:] MR. HIGGINSON,--Your kindness claimed earlier gratitude, but I was ill, and write to-day from my pillow. Thank you for the surgery; it was not so painful as I supposed. I bring you others, as you ask, though they might not differ. While my thought is undressed, I can make the distinction; but when I put them in the gown, they look alike and numb. You asked how old I was? I made no verse, but one or two, until this winter, sir. I had a terror since September, I could tell to none; and so I sing, as the boy does by the burying ground, because I am afraid. You inquire my books. For poets, I have Keats, and Mr. and Mrs. Browning. For prose, Mr. Ruskin, Sir Thomas Browne, and the Revelations. I went to school, but in your manner of the phrase had no education. When a little girl, I had a friend who taught me Immortality; but venturing too near, himself, he never returned. Soon after my tutor died, and for several years my lexicon was my only companion. Then I found one more, but he was not contented I be his scholar, so he left the land. You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog large as myself, that my father bought me. They are better than beings because they know, but do not tell; and the noise in the pool at noon excels my piano. I have a brother and sister; my mother does not care for thought, and father, too busy with his briefs to notice what we do. He buys me many books, but begs me not to read them, because he fears they joggle the mind. They are religious, except me, and address an eclipse, every morning, whom they call their "Father." But I fear my story fatigues you. I would like to learn. Could you tell me how to grow, or is it unconveyed, like melody or witchcraft? You speak of Mr. Whitman. I never read his book, but was told that it was disgraceful. I read Miss Prescott's Circumstance, but it followed me in the dark, so I avoided her. Two editors of journals came to my father's house this winter, and asked me for my mind, and when I asked them "why" they said I was penurious, and they would use it for the world. I could not weigh myself, myself. My size felt small to me. I read your chapters in the Atlantic, and experienced honor for you. I was sure you would not reject a confiding question. Is this, sir, what you asked me to tell you? Your friend, E. DICKINSON.

  30. 5 out of 5

    Patricia

    I bought this beautifully bound teal volume in the New York Public Library's (building at Fifth Ave. and 42nd St.) bookstore/gift shop while on a drama club trip from Elk Lake H.S., with my kids Will and Rachel. It occurred to me that although Emily Dickinson has been a favorite poet of mine since junior high, I no longer have a copy of her work. Most of these poems I had read before, but it was delightful, and sometimes startling, to read them again. The reader changes over the years, and the I bought this beautifully bound teal volume in the New York Public Library's (building at Fifth Ave. and 42nd St.) bookstore/gift shop while on a drama club trip from Elk Lake H.S., with my kids Will and Rachel. It occurred to me that although Emily Dickinson has been a favorite poet of mine since junior high, I no longer have a copy of her work. Most of these poems I had read before, but it was delightful, and sometimes startling, to read them again. The reader changes over the years, and the poems seem changed by the reader's new response to them. I love her spare words and intuitive thinking, the leaps between lines and dashes. These poems are selected, by two of the writer's friends, from nearly 2,000 poems Emily Dickinson wrote with no intention of publication. T.W. Higginson, one of those friends, corresponded with Dickinson for many years, but only met her twice face to face. He described her as "unique and remote." In the Preface, he tells how "though curiously indifferent to all conventional rules, (she) had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." About this collection, he wrote: "In many cases these verses will seem to the reader like poetry torn up by the roots, with rain and dew and earth still clinging to them, giving a freshness and a fragrance not otherwise to be conveyed." If you've never read Dickinson's poetry, prepare to have your breath taken away by her vivid and capricious thoughts and images.

Add a review

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Loading...
We use cookies to give you the best online experience. By using our website you agree to our use of cookies in accordance with our cookie policy.