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Here's a spicy sapphic one from the Queerty archives...
A look into Emily Dickinson's fascinating Irish connection: her maid, Margaret Maher.
She spoke of her sadness. About all the poetry...
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” ― Emily Dickinson Barbara Jacoby The post Hope is the thing...
There may be no more a macabrely misogynistic sentence in English literature than Edgar Allan Poe’s contention that “the death… of a beautiful woman” is “unquestionably the most po...
“They can’t get off the island either.”
Thou still ravished bride of binary Thou foster-child of bandits’ digest The blood of painters, writers and lakes as sacred as a priory. The post Poem: Ode on Atrophy appeared firs...
When first the soul contemplates secret things,...
via @di.courtois via @michaelpoetryy via @thejournal2000 <3 Read more
Emily Ransom on good company.
Braingle's Daily Brain Teaser for Oct 22, 2026 Can you figure out what A.A. Milne was referring to in this verse from his "When We Were Very Young" book? She wore her yellow su...
No star. No light. No candle burns....
No, no, I don’t believe in my poems, Not really, but I defer to the poet in me Who belies belief with a fact that Requires no belief, to write a poem In which fire is the poetic El...
“I was in Eden. God’s light / Tongued the leaves.”
But at my back I always hear/ Time’s winged chariot hurrying near. ...
You ain't ever gonna find her at the bottom of a bottle....
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