The new sun rose
a ribbon at a time.

Branches swam across amethyst skies.
Robins mused in trees, making rhymes.

Hills untied their bonnets.
Valleys doffed their caps.

And day danced through time
like she was first day,
the only day.

Toward evening she raised her slender arms,
stretched and yawned,
then folded herself in two
and settled beneath another dawn.

A purple stile opened in the west
and the ancient sun climbed through day’s doorpost
gently pulling ragged strips across the heavens
while the limbs of trees clawed at tattered ghosts.







Day Five: Emily Dickenson

Today’s prompt:  Find an Emily Dickinson poem (one with which you are unfamiliar) and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it!

This was difficult.  I like Emily’s poem.  Although I am not enamoured of her mechanics, her words are brilliant, and I felt like I splintered a beautiful poem.  I love the Grey Dominie and how he leads the flock away. This activity felt too much like vandalism.  🙂

Here’s the Dickenson poem I chose —

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose –
A Ribbon at a time –
The steeples swam in Amethyst
The news, like Squirrels, ran –
The Hills untied their Bonnets –
The Bobolinks – begun –
Then I said softly to myself –
“That must have been the Sun”!
But how he set – I know not –
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while –
Till when they reached the other side –
A Dominie in Gray –
Put gently up the evening Bars –
And led the flock away –