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Emily Dickinson Poem: Will there really be a morning?

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Emily Dickinson was loving, kind, and a bit of a prankster. “Will there really be a morning” is a poem she wrote on the back of a cake recipe. A cake recipe?! What if it hadn’t been found? I learned about this while looking up the poem and ran across Hidden Kitchens produced by The Kitchen Sisters. Their series featured the story of Emily and the poem on NPR’s Morning Edition which we can listen to below. BLACK CAKE: EMILY DICKINSON’S HIDDEN KITCHEN ON NPR’S MORNING EDITION Posted by The Kitchen Sisters on Dec 27, 2016 in Hidden Kitchens, Hidden World of GirlsListen to the podcast about Dickinson’s black cake recipe and her life at the below link to their podcast. http://www.kitchensisters.org/present/black-cake-emily-dickinsons-hidden-kitchen/ Will there really be a morning? by Emily Dickinson Will there really be a “Morning”?Is there such a thing as “Day”?Could I see it from the mountainsIf I were as tall as they? Has…

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Night Walk Poem by Sylvia Plath

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By Sylvia PlathOctober 4, 1958 Flintlike, her feet struck such a racket of echoes from the steely street,tacking in moon-blued crooks from the black stone-built town, that she heard the quick air ignite  its tinder and shake a firework of echoes from wall to wall of the dark, dwarfed cottages.But the echoes died at her back as the walls gave way to fields and the incessant seethe of grasses  riding in the full of the moon, manes to the wind, tireless, tied, as a moon-bound seamoves on its root. Though a mist-wraith wound up from the fissured valley and hung shoulder-high  ahead, it fattened to no family-featured ghost, nor did any word body with a namethe blank mood she walked in. Once past the dream-peopled village, her eyes entertained no dream,  and the sandman’s dust lost lustre under her footsoles. The long wind, paring her person downto a pinch of flame, blew its burdened whistle in the whorl of her ear, and, like a scooped-out…

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The Lake by Edgar Allan Poe

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The LakeEdgar Allan Poe – 1809-1849 In youth’s spring it was my lotTo haunt, of the wide earth a spotThe which I could not love the less,So lovely was the lonelinessOf a wild lake, with black rock bound,And the tall pines that tower’d around. But, when the night had thrown her pallUpon that spot, as upon all,And the mystic wind went byMurmuring in melody -Then – ah then I would awakeTo the terror of the lone lake. Yet that terror was not fright.But a tremulous delight – A feeling not the jewelled mineCould teach or bribe me to define -Nor Love – although the Love were thine. Death was in that poison’d wave —And, in its gulf, a fitting graveFor him who thence could solace bringTo his lone imagining -Whose solitary soul could makeAn Eden of that dim lake. https://youtu.be/3OKdS85iPo4 You might enjoy our post Evening Star Written by Edgar Allan…

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Raven Girl Performed by The Royal Ballet

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This post contains affiliate links. If you click a link and make a purchase, Poe in Wonderland will earn a small commission for the referral at no cost to you. Raven Girl is a children’s book written by Audrey Niffenegger about a postman who falls in love with a raven. The Royal Ballet in London performed the story in 2013, and oh how we would have loved to have seen it! A dark fairytale about a raven and the wonders of the world? Check! Ballet? Check! Once there was a Postman who fell in love with a Raven.So begins the tale of a postman who encounters a fledgling raven while on the edge of his route and decides to bring her home. The unlikely couple falls in love and conceives a child―an extraordinary raven girl trapped in a human body.Excerpt from Raven Girl https://youtu.be/AGfax8Y2I5g Sarah Lamb on Wayne McGregor’s Raven…

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Robert Frost: “Acquainted with the Night”

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Acquainted with the Night BY ROBERT FROST I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman on his beatAnd dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feetWhen far away an interrupted cryCame over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye;And further still at an unearthly height,One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night. Source: PoetryFoundation.org You might also enjoy our posts Robert Frost: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, The Road Not Taken, Mending Wall, and Ghost House. Robert Frost in 1943. (Eric Schaal/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images)

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Wild Nights – Wild Nights by Emily Dickinson

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Wild Nights — Wild Nights!Were I with theeWild Nights should beOur luxury! Futile — the Winds —To a Heart in port —Done with the Compass —Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden —Ah, the Sea!Might I but moor — Tonight —In Thee! Source: PoetryinVoice.com To learn more about Emily Dickinson you can visit our blog post “A Short Bio on Emily Dickinson and the Poem that Captured Me”. Photo by Wendy Maeda/The Boston Globe via Getty Images You might also enjoy Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, The Road not Taken, Ghost House, and Mending Wall.

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Amanda Gorman reads the inauguration poem, “the Hill we climb”

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https://youtu.be/LZ055ilIiN4 This young lady is only 22 years old and recites her original poem for the inauguration. Ms. Gorman is the National Youth Poet Laureate. What amazing talent she has and she made history today. One to listen to in the years to come. Gorman made history on Wednesday by becoming the youngest person ever to write and recite a poem during an inauguration. The Los Angeles native described her background in the powerful composition as a “skinny Black girl, descended from slaves and raised by a single mother [who] can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.”ET Online article by Desiree Murphy Cover image credit: CONVIRON ALTATIS

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Alice in Wonderland Passage

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This post contains affiliate links. If you click a link and make a purchase, Poe in Wonderland will earn a small commission for the referral at no cost to you. by Lewis Carroll from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland “Repeat `You are old, Father William,'” said the Caterpillar. Alice folded her hands, and began: — “You are old, father William,” the young man said, “And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head — Do you think, at your age, it is right?” “In my youth,” father William replied to his son, “I feared it would injure the brain; But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.” “You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before, And have grown most uncommonly fat; Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the…

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