Wild Nights

I share one poem per blog post, but I’ve written many more. The lucky agent/publisher who decides I’m a good fit for their press will get to read all of the poems I’ve written with Emily’s first lines for this project! This morning I wrote about childhood memories in my grandparent’s attic bedroom, the interdependence of all living things, the hate I have for the scale at this point of my life, a certain type of friend we need and this one, about wild nights.

If Emily’s poem had truly been about a wild night she had or one she was desirous of, the mid 1800’s world she lived in would be “pull out the smelling salts” shocked. Ladies of that time period didn’t speak of such things. Hell, they weren’t even supposed to feel such things! Of course we don’t know if anyone actually did read it before her death, but even today it’s difficult to reconcile the reclusive poet to a such a passionate plea for wild nights with an unidentified lover. But who knows…

Now I may be a woman of a certain age with grown children and grandkids, but back in the late 70’s, (when I may not have always used the best judgement), I was nevertheless “Quite the Quite!

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