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Poetry Continuation Feb 13, 09:41 PM

Because I could not stop for Death: The Journey Onward

Creative Poetry Continuation

This is an artistic fantasy inspired by the poem «Because I could not stop for Death» by Emily Dickinson. How might the verse have sounded if the poet had continued their thought?

Original excerpt

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

— Emily Dickinson, «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.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

~ ~ ~

But Eternity – has Rooms –
I did not know – before –
Some furnished – with a single Light –
Some – with an open Door –

The Centuries – have Tenants here –
Who never speak – aloud –
But gesture – with a silent Hand –
Like Figures – in a Crowd –

I asked of Death – if He had seen
The ones I left – behind –
He smiled – the way a Lantern does –
When Wind – disturbs its Kind –

He said – the Living do not know
How thin – the Wall between –
A Breath – a Cobweb – and a Thought –
Is all there is – to Screen –

I pressed my Palm against the Air –
And felt – a Warmth come through –
As if a Hand – on some far Side –
Was reaching – for me too –

The Carriage – waits – it always waits –
The Horses – do not tire –
They've carried Pharaohs – Poets – Saints –
And every lost Desire –

I've learned – that Death is not a Place –
But rather – a Degree –
A slightly different Angle – on
The Light – we used to see –

The Children – at their Recess – still
Are playing – in the Ring –
The Gazing Grain – still gazes up –
The Birds – remember Spring –

And I – who could not stop for Death –
Now find – I cannot leave –
Not out of Chains – but out of Love –
For all that still – believes –

The House – that swelled – beneath the Ground –
Is not so dark – as told –
It has a Window – facing East –
Where Mornings – turn to Gold –

And through that Glass – I watch the World –
Continue – as before –
Each Sunrise – an Apology –
Each Sunset – something More –

So should you feel – a Presence near –
When Dusk – begins to fall –
It may be just – the Centuries –
Remembering – you all –

The Carriage – rocks – the Horses – breathe –
Immortality – keeps still –
And Death – that courteous Gentleman –
Drives on – as Gentlemen will –

Joke Jan 24, 07:01 PM

The Poet's Invoice Dispute

Emily Dickinson's ghost appeared before the IRS. 'We need to discuss your posthumous royalties,' said the agent. Emily replied, 'I published seven poems in my lifetime. Seven. The other 1,800 were found in a drawer. I didn't even want those published—they were just—dashes—and—feelings.' The agent nodded. 'Ma'am, your estate has earned more after death than most poets earn alive.' Emily sighed. 'That—is the most—American thing—I have ever—heard.'

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