Postcard verso:

I was named after E.D.,
attended the same college she
did, and have also found
comfort in words. She has
always been a constant in
my life. Affectionately, Emily I.
————————————-
⋅ THE SEASON OF WISTFULNESS ⋅
The bittersweet memories return
after a long winter’s nap.
Nostalgia’s hibernation
has come to a close.
The buddings of Forget-Me-Nots
Linger.
Heartache yawns as it pulls
itself out of its warm, lonely home
carved out of footprints.
                  And the familiar feeling
                  of the familiar leaves the
                  air stale with the grip of déjà vu.      -E.I.

Postcard verso:

I was captivated by Emily
Dickinson’s incredible, boiling passion
which spun her poems,
and consumed her life.
I hope to become a published
writer and Dickinson’s passion
inspires me to never lose
sight of the reason I love
to write.

Postcard verso:

Dear Emily —
          It is a surreal thing, sending
a card to your home. I in this
season of curdled cloud and leaves
falling away I am reminded of your
words: “Ashes denote that fire was —
               Revere the greyest pile
               For the departed creature’s sake
               That hovered there awhile —”
Thank you for the Bee and the Clover, which
I will preserve in anticipation of Spring.
With Love from Providence —
                                   Joshua Rex

*content warning: suicide*

Postcard face:

i got a bird
when i was
           seven
i          named
           him
           blue
           cheeks

Postcard verso:

Dear Emily,
     Your poem
Hope is the thing
with feathers
is the last
thing I wrote to
my daughter in a
letter before she
died by suicide 
at the age of 30
in March 2017.

Here she is at age 7 with her
beloved
feathered
friend. 
——————
And still I never lose hope.
                           <3  Amy

Postcard (chocolate wrapper) verso:

Dear Emily,
Of course I received your Letter —
It Outright changed my Life,
And now I cannot imagine —
A Day without your Song.
I’ve been to your Homestead to find (see) you —
In Spring, Summer, and Fall —
Each Sojourn — you were missing!
But I sensed you in the Hall,
Spring in your Garden — a robin —
Welcomed me in Red Cravat —
He seemed to expect a token —
I was prepared for that!
In Summer there was a blatant flood —
with water everywhere,
But the ground smelled of heliotrope —
And it was Eden there.
When I visited in Autumn —
Amherst glowed on fire —
It was just so damn lovely
I felt the need to Die.
I would love to come in Winter —
on a Velvet December day —
to properly Recognize you —
And ‘Happy Birthday’ say.

                                                Your Very Aff,
                                                       M. Owens

Postcard verso:

for E.
     I listen
     from behind the door
     a shadow in the hall
     My head
     hangs towards the floor
     covered in a shawl

     No one
     sees me any more
     can’t see the looks and stares
     My heart
     chambers one through four
     struggle in their snares

     From here
     in my cloistered keep
     I write a poem a day
     But words
     with the pains they reap
     don’t keep the world away.

                                 <3 Ali

Postcard verso:

         Dear Emily,
You fill the Space —
Between Earth and Moon —
Eternal Emptiness —
Between You and Me —
Warmed by the Sun —
Eternal — Emily —

     Thassadite DiRAMi
              from FRANCE to Amherst.

December the 10th (2019)                          #PostcardstoEmily

Postcard verso:

Nov. 3, 2019
_________

Emily Dickinson’s
opening line of
Poem #449, “That
it will never come again is what
makes life so sweet.” has helped
me cope with the unexpected 
passing of my husband this
summer — Lisa Zimmermann

Postcard verso:

We have learned about Emily Dickinson
in our English class, and your story
is very inspiring. It is impressive that
someone so young who spent such
little time outside is
able to inspire and
influence generations of
writers for years and
years after. Thank you!

Postcard verso:

Dear Emily, I hope you’re
sitting with your father – and
Mine, in the same House. Your
Poetry was one of His gifts…
and I loved it immediately!
Your words are a sweet
company in this Great Absence.

     With love, from Sardinia.

                  MAURA