teenage phantasies


THE DAISY FOLLOWS SOFT THE SUN
by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
      HE daisy follows soft the sun,
      And when his golden walk is done,
      Sits shyly at his feet.
      He, waking, finds the flower near.
      "Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?"
      "Because, sir, love is sweet!"
       
      We are the flower, Thou the sun!
      Forgive us, if as days decline,
      We nearer steal to Thee,--
      Enamoured of the parting west,
      The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
      Night's possibility!

                 ****************

      This is no daisy, I know but neither am I.
      Her bloom is velvet and her limbs made of artificial plastic.
      Seemed she still reached for the light regardless.


I years had been from home,

Evgeniy Shaman

photography by Evgeniy Shaman


I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before

Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,--just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?

I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.

I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.

I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.

I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.                                                                 

                                                                         Emily Dickinson                                                                    

Deed

Anna Shishkina


XLI. DEED

A deed knocks first at thought,
And then it knocks at will.
That is the manufacturing spot,
And will at home and well.

It then goes out an act,
Or is entombed so still
That only to the ear of God
Its doom is audible.

Emily Dickinson