Short Story : Emily Dickinson

When people think of Emily Dickinson, they think of a white dressed, ghostly woman hidden in the corridors of home, writing poem after poem. They do not think of the actual person Emily was. Emily Dickinson grew up in a rich, social, scholarly environment. She could have chosen many paths that would have led her to a completely different life, but because of circumstances, the social, high energy girl with a sense of humor became isolated by her own choice. Though Emily Dickinson’s depression is romanticized, sickness, social life, and death led her to seclusion and deep poems.

So, now suddenly I was in an entirely new environment and scared out of my mind. I could see all of my dreams crashing and burning right before my eyes.

Emily Dickinson was one of the best American poets, but she is very famous for being a secluded writer. Emily Dickinson was born on December 10, 1846 in Amherst, Massachusetts and she died on May 15, 1886 at the age of 55 in Amherst, Massachusetts. Her isolation from the outside world still confuses literary critics and readers of her poetry and letters. There are many theories developed over time about her seclusion. Some people believe her secluded way of life was her own choice but she was very close to her family. Emily Dickinson lived in a happy home and went to a school during her life. Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, in 1830 and lived there all her life most of her life. An introduction into Emily Dickinson’s poetry themes, and discussion about the isolation in her life, and discussion about the isolation in her poetry will be examined in the paper.

I flew into his room to find his bed empty.I started to panic ,He had been that he was very restless and tired because of those loud monsters partying until the nic of dawn.As I

Emily Dickinson, recognized as one of the greatest American poets of the nineteenth century, was born December 10, 1830 in Amherst, Massachusetts (Benfey, 1). Dickinson’s greatness and accomplishments were not always recognized. In her time, women were not recognized as serious writers and her talents were often ignored. Only seven of her 1800 poems were ever published. Dickinson’s life was relatively simple, but behind the scenes she worked as a creative and talented poet. Her work was influenced by poets of the seventeenth century in England, and by her puritan upbringing. Dickinson was an obsessively private writer. Dickinson withdrew herself from the social contract around the age of thirty and devoted herself, in secret, to writing.

Emily Dickinson was one of the best American poets, but she is very famous for being a secluded writer. Emily Dickinson was born on December 10, 1846 in Amherst, Massachusetts and she died on May 15, 1886 at the age of 55 in Amherst, Massachusetts. Her isolation from the outside world still confuses literary critics and readers of her poetry and letters. There are many theories developed over time about her seclusion. Some people believe her secluded way of life was her own choice but she was very close to her family. Emily Dickinson lived in a happy home and went to a school during her life. Dickinson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, in 1830 and lived there all her life most of her life. An introduction into Emily Dickinson’s poetry themes, and discussion about the isolation in her life, and discussion about the isolation in her poetry will be examined in the paper.

“But a deeper terror immediately gripped me: I couldn’t remember where I was. A warm bed, darkness, the sound of traffic. What country is this? What is this house, and who am I with. I reached out a hand; there was no one else in the bed. Was I alone because I had no partner, or because my partner was far away? I floated in the dark, anonymous to myself, lost in the sensation that the world existed but I was no longer a part of it” (130).

The late psychiatrist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross said: “The most beautiful people I’ve known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.” This inspirational quote suggests that adversity provides people with new opportunities and can drive people to improve their life. Adversity comes in numerous forms, such as emotional, physical, and financial. Individuals have a choice to learn from adversity or allow it to break their character. However, certain types of adversity, such as severe chronic conditions or diseases, do little to improve character and the human condition. Thus, all types of adversity, pain, and suffering are not beneficial, however, most work to improve an

The blinding light coming from the outside poured into me. I grabbed the air reaching for water just like looking for an oasis in a desert. My eyes, yawned by the sun poking into my eyes and I realized that I was back in my house; my old jacketed

He was still sleeping, curled up in a ball with dark hair covering his face. Placing the platter down on the nightstand, you tucked a large chunk of hair behind his ear and placed soft kisses along his jaw as a wake up call. He hummed in response, opening his eyes and turning his head towards you. A lazy smile was plastered across his face as you pressed his lips to his, admiring his warmth. "What is that delicious smell?" His voice was deeper and raspier than usual- you loved his morning voice.

I wanted to thank him for being there, but my heart was damaged, with no space for gratitude. My lips were slightly cracked, my fingers were worn down from the constantly holding onto his apparel. Abruptly I lifted my face to his, speaking to him the only way I knew how. My lips intermingled with his, he didn't move, even I was unwelcome there. Impossible stillness. For a moment there was a suspended second of nothingness before colliding again. I didn't care if he didn't want me the I wanted him, I needed to feel the sensations I had felt with him before. I only cared about myself, how everything would affect me, but I let myself fall back on his lips. He was uncertain as I guided his fingers to the lining of my face. His stubble scratched at my skin gently, unraveling my itch for him. His faithless lips responded to mine. He staggers foward, pulling me closer, placing me on his lap. My mouth opened in slight shock, but it is greeted with his lips again. I safely lean my back against the steering wheel, cautious not to sound the alarm. He kissed me until the space between his lips drew out the blue in my blood. With a slight tug, I easily came tumbling down onto him, warm sugar huddled at his fingertips. My precious bag had fell to the floor, but I didn't care enough to notice. His body was pressed against me, firmer than I had imagined, which frightened and excited me. One of his hands stroked my upper thigh, my body

In this era, America was trying to form its own poetic identity. "...and poetic achievement was viewed as the standard by which a national culture was measured. The desire to create a distinctly American literature consequently took on a special urgency in the realm of poetry," (pg. 937). "But surely, many reasoned, a nation without its own poets and poetry could not be a real nation," (pgs. 937-938). Because of this, Daniel Whitaker "simply announced that American poetry in fact existed," (pg. 937). He was not alone in this opinion, as "so did many others view the writing of poetry as a patriotic act, a necessary part of building a new and culturally independent country," (pg. 938).

I sat there, numb, unmoving, my breathing shallow. I just sat there thinking about the time I was able to spend with him. The way his little fingers would grasp my larger hand. I sat there remembering how his sad little smile could warm my heart, even on my worst day. Then I remembered my reluctance to get close to him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay with us long. I remembered how I would never volunteer to hold him, not wanting to bond with the sweet boy that would leave before he had the chance to walk or even utter his first syllable. I felt a cold regret slowly seep into my body, regret for not loving on him more than I did, more than I should have.

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was born December 10, 1830, into an influential family in Amherst, Massachusetts. Her father helped found Amherst College, where Emily later attended between 1840 and 1846. She never married and died in the house where she was born on May 15, 1886.

I am going out on the doorstep, to get you some new—green grass—I shall pick it down in the corner, where you and I used to sit, and have long fancies. And perhaps the dear little grasses were growing all the while—and perhaps they heard what we said, but they can't tell!