Welcome and thanks for stopping by West Saint Paul Antiques Poetry Cafe on our Web Site. Have a free cup of coffee and polle a chair you are now at the Portry Coffee Cup Cafe. Look us over and sign our guest book. Your porms are welcome If you have an original poem you would like posted, please email it to me or send them to us at West St Paul Antique Mall and we will post them on this site. On our original poems page from time to time. Plesase include your name and any information about yourself that you would like included. Have a great day and come back and see us soon. This is a new page for our site we will be working on this site over the next six months. Any suggestions for site inprovement are appreciated. Thank you and have a cup of free coffee on Us the next time you stop by the Cafe or our Antique Mall. The Manager of the Poetry Coffee Cup cafe thanks you email me at: email@example.com
"... if computers can be infected by a virus, there's no reason they shouldn't be refreshed by a breath of poetry." ["Paula", Isabel Allende]
I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there is 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!
By the Poet - Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
Cafe's Poet of the Year 2011 - 2015
Because I could not stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.
Dickinson's handwritten manuscript of her poem "Wild Nights – Wild Nights!"
We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility.
Dickinson wrote and sent this poem ("A Route to Evanescence") to Thomas Higginson in 1880.
The Evergreens, the home of Austin and Susan Dickinson, as it appears today
We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun.
The Dickinson Homestead as it appears today. In 2003 it was made into the Emily Dickinson Museum.
daguerreotypes of Emily Dickinson.
We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound.
Cover of the first edition of Poems, published in 1890
Emily Dickinson's tombstone in the family plot
Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity. By the Poet - Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
Thomas Wentworth Higginson in uniform; he was colonel of the First South Carolina Volunteers from 1862 to 1864
-----------Poetry Coffee Cup Cafe ------------West Saint Paul Antique Mall offers a great selection of antiques and collectibles. Plus good old fashioned service is assured, whether you wish to visit our antique mall personally or prefer to buy online or over the telephone.
We outgrow love like other things
We outgrow love like other things And put it in the drawer, Till it an antique fashion shows Like costumes grandsires wore
Who has not found the heaven below
Who has not found the heaven below Will fail of it above. God's residence is next to mine, His furniture is love.
Poems by the Poet - Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
Pain has an element of blank
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself, Its infinite realms contain Its past, enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.
Poems by - Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern - The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon's width From his accustomed route - The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying his Despair.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830– May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life. After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.
Dickinson was a prolific private poet, though fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime. The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often utilize slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation. Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two subjects which infused her letters to friends.
Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content. A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson. Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet.
Emily Dickinson 1830-1886
From the daguerreotype taken at Mount Holyoke, December 1846 or early 1847. It is the only authenticated portrait of Emily Dickinson later than childhood.
After great pain
fter great pain, a formal feeling comes The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs The stiff heart questions was it he, that bore, And yesterday, or centuries before?
The feet, mechanical, go round Of ground, or air, or ought A wooden way Regardless grown, A quartz contentment, like a stone.
This is the hour of lead Remembered, if outlived, As freezing persons recollect the snow. First chill - then stupor - then the letting go.
Supposedly one of only two known daguerreotypes of Emily Dickinson. Made in the 1850s and discovered in 2000 on eBay by Philip F. Gura, its authenticity is questioned.
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