A shattered face,
A broken faith,
Startled by the sun.
My perception wrong.

A beauty here,
A radiant hope,
Staring at the Son.
My fears are all but gone.

I'm discovering my poetic style slowly as I journey further into my literary conscious and I'm enjoying forming my writing into that which is beautiful to me. I know that I don't usually like to rhyme, I occasionally use it to "shock" the reader or to further illustrate a point. I often feel that poetry which does not rhyme but remains wonderful is superior-it's as though it has had to work harder to be recognised. Despite this, verse often comes into my mind which naturally rhymes and sometimes I enjoy the simplicity that it brings and just have to choose to sacrifice my prideful attitude of rhyming being inferior.

Some very dear friends recently presented me with "The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson" and as I opened it I felt so excited knowing that there were hundreds of pages of inspiration before me. Here are two poems which I find utterly lovely. They stir the creative in me and make me jealous. They also happen to rhyme!! Moot point earlier anyone?

To mend each tattered Faith,
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate-
'Tis threaded in the Air-


And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
'Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before.


These poems are untitled which I love.

The Butterfly upon the Sky,
That doesn't know its Name
And hasn't any tax to pay
And hasn't any Home
Is just as high as you and I,
And higher, I believe,
So soar away and never sigh
And that's the way to grieve.




Thank you Emily.