I don’t particularly
enjoy poetry. I like the rhymey poetry, but not so much the free verse, because
I can never seem to get much out of it. I just like straightforward words, although
I do enjoy metaphors and symbolism. I really dislike writing poetry also. It’s
just a pain in the rear. I get nothing out of it. I’d rather write real
sentences and stories than a poem about nature. Even though I don’t naturally
enjoy poetry, I do like Emily Dickinson. I’ve read some of her poems before and
some of them are quite beautiful.

The second
poem that interested me is the poem that starts with “I heard a Fly buzz – when
I died” (p. 1215). She lay on her deathbed and there was silence when she heard
a fly buzz. She signed a will and then “the windows failed”, windows being her
eyes and she died. This is a particularly morbid poem. However, I am not a very
morbid person. Lately in my life, there has been a lot of sickness and near
death experiences for people close to me that I have been thinking about it
lately and this poem was a little unusual to me in that the room is silent when
the narrator takes her last breath and all that is heard in the room is a fly
and then she dies, the end. I don’t really see any moral or message in it. I
feel like a lot of these poems she is writing are kind of just scribbles or sketches
in a notebook, if you will. However, they are incredible.