Ms. Dickinson Please Meet Andrea Gibson

Emily Dickinson lives in the picture below.

Andrea Gibson resides in the image bellow

What do they have in common? Besides The Fact that Dickson and Gibson both survive through poetry. Wall we discussed Dickinson’s poem ”If You Were Coming In The Fall” this week in English I slowly heard Andrea Gibson’s poetry slip into my mind. I listen to it in photography (no its not an excuse) as if Gibson’s words would some how inspire my photography to grow in artistic value. That day though I had listened to her poem “Photograph” over, and over, and over agene. For some reason Gibson’s words struck me and stuck with me. As I delved into our English discussion I realized Gibson and Dickinson spoke on essentially the same issue. Dickinson speaker seems to portray this unwavering love that cares not about the pain her lover has ensued on her from leaving. The speak gives all still away to her lover so much as she would “toss..[her life].. yonder like a rind,/ and taste eternity”(15-16). The speaker gives no concern to the fact that her lover left her. the speak only seem to want the love she once back. As if two poets began to battle in my head Gibson words arose from the ashes of my segmented mind and led them self into the potion labeled English class bumping agents Dickinson’s structured dialog. “I never meant to fire you know/ I know you never meant to fire lover/ I know we never meant to hurt each other”(32-34) Gibson portrayed the same situation love gone wrong lovers hurting each other. As if Gibson wanted her poem and Dickinson to fallow the same issue Gibson stayed “this is going to hurt bowing to I love you/ I still love you”(50-51) Dickinson’s and Gibson suddenly clashed in my head both bursting with same knowledge. How could a poet from the eighteen hundreds have the same theme, same meaning as a poem from modern America twp thousand and nine. Unless the issue they discussed proved it self a timeless issue. The problem not caring what year it fell in only that it recede havoc on sets of lovers. Gibson and Dickinson seem to prove that the themes of poems repeat themselves over and over agene with different situations different people different years, but the same problem. I sit hear in utter amassment, because when I think of poetry I have written I can see the same painful them running through the lines ramped in taken blood just as it did with Gibson and Dickinson. Maybe Gibson and my self only re-write the wise words of those who came before us.
Andrea Gibson lives below

In the portrait below I express my inner self

We both fallow in the steady foot steps of highly intelligent poets who came before us.