Content Feed

Discover interesting content about books and writing

Poetry Continuation Feb 13, 09:41 PM

Because I could not stop for Death: The Journey Onward

Creative Poetry Continuation

This is an artistic fantasy inspired by the poem Β«Because I could not stop for DeathΒ» by Emily Dickinson. How might the verse have sounded if the poet had continued their thought?

Original excerpt

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

β€” Emily Dickinson, Β«Because I could not stop for DeathΒ»

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

~ ~ ~

But Eternity – has Rooms –
I did not know – before –
Some furnished – with a single Light –
Some – with an open Door –

The Centuries – have Tenants here –
Who never speak – aloud –
But gesture – with a silent Hand –
Like Figures – in a Crowd –

I asked of Death – if He had seen
The ones I left – behind –
He smiled – the way a Lantern does –
When Wind – disturbs its Kind –

He said – the Living do not know
How thin – the Wall between –
A Breath – a Cobweb – and a Thought –
Is all there is – to Screen –

I pressed my Palm against the Air –
And felt – a Warmth come through –
As if a Hand – on some far Side –
Was reaching – for me too –

The Carriage – waits – it always waits –
The Horses – do not tire –
They've carried Pharaohs – Poets – Saints –
And every lost Desire –

I've learned – that Death is not a Place –
But rather – a Degree –
A slightly different Angle – on
The Light – we used to see –

The Children – at their Recess – still
Are playing – in the Ring –
The Gazing Grain – still gazes up –
The Birds – remember Spring –

And I – who could not stop for Death –
Now find – I cannot leave –
Not out of Chains – but out of Love –
For all that still – believes –

The House – that swelled – beneath the Ground –
Is not so dark – as told –
It has a Window – facing East –
Where Mornings – turn to Gold –

And through that Glass – I watch the World –
Continue – as before –
Each Sunrise – an Apology –
Each Sunset – something More –

So should you feel – a Presence near –
When Dusk – begins to fall –
It may be just – the Centuries –
Remembering – you all –

The Carriage – rocks – the Horses – breathe –
Immortality – keeps still –
And Death – that courteous Gentleman –
Drives on – as Gentlemen will –

Nothing to read? Create your own book and read it! Like I do.

Create a book
1x

"Good writing is like a windowpane." β€” George Orwell