In the Style of Emily Dickinson: After Emily

(For an introduction to the series “In the Style Of…” please see our search bar for the immediately prior post entitled, “To All Collegiate Poetry Snobs,” ending with the lines:

“Think my claims are empty boasts?
Just read these next dozen posts“)


Ah, this sweet intoxication
This benign, divine embrace!
This poor laborer in darkness
Has achieved a state of grace!

‘Tis a crisp and sparkling fount
Of purest wisdom cleanses me
It rinses out my spotted soul
Massaged by hands I cannot see

Never was there sweeter music
Than the crickets make tonight
Never was the mist so rosy
Never were the stars so bright

I exper’ience all creation
All creation nurtures me
This humble form of mundane clay
Can handle no more ecstasy

The drums of duty sound the pace
I must depart this lovely place
‘Ere my soul leap forth from me
To dwell anon in inner space 

— Ana Daksina

Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Become a patron of the fine arts at:

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