Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Rachel Hadas: Holding on to hope is hard, even with the pandemic’s end in sight – wisdom from poets through the ages

As we begin to glimpse what might be the beginning of the end of the pandemic, what does hope mean? It’s hard not to sense the presence of hope, but how do we think of it?

March 23, 2021 · 2 Comments

Gary Margolis: The Desire to Write Poetry at Forty

the mysterious
feeling between her
and Emily, the centuries in
between two women
alone in their rooms.

February 18, 2021 · 2 Comments

Emily Dickinson: They shut me up in Prose

They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason — in the Pound —

November 27, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: I have no life but this

I have no Life but this —
To lead it here —

November 13, 2020 · 6 Comments

Emily Dickinson: The Soul selects her own Society

The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —

October 23, 2020 · 1 Comment

Sandy Solomon: Ghazal

A night of ghazals comes to an end to fill with birds.
As the sky blues, their calls braid in New Jersey.

September 21, 2020 · 1 Comment

Matthew Redmond: Emily Dickinson is the unlikely hero of our time

As the world continues to endure the ravages of COVID-19, another ghost of Dickinson steps into view.

August 28, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: She dealt her pretty words like Blades

She dealt her pretty words like Blades–
How glittering they shone—
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone—

August 28, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: For each ecstatic instant

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay

August 21, 2020 · 7 Comments

Robert Wrigley: The Consciousness of Everything

That time’s lost now, when a stone could hurt,
when a feather missed its wing,
when sky kissed clouds and grass kissed dirt
and nothing thought itself just a thing.

May 26, 2020 · 2 Comments

Emily Dickinson: Grief is a Mouse

Grief is a Thief—quick startled—
Pricks His Ear—report to hear
Of that Vast Dark—
That swept His Being—back—

May 15, 2020 · 1 Comment

Emily Dickinson: Wild nights — Wild nights!

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

May 8, 2020 · Leave a comment

Emily Dickinson: We grow accustomed to the Dark

We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When light is put away –
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye

June 7, 2019 · 2 Comments

Emily Dickinson: The Loneliness One dare not sound

The Loneliness One dare not sound—And would as soon surmiseAs in its Grave go plumbingTo ascertain the size— The Loneliness whose worst alarmIs lest itself should see—And perish from before … Continue reading

March 22, 2019 · Leave a comment

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