Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently? Sorry, WP, not feeling today’s DP. Instead, I give this space to she. Thank you
Bee! I’m expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due —
The Frogs got Home last Week —
Are settled, and at work —
Birds, mostly back —
The Clover warm and thick —
You’ll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me —
Yours, Fly.
By Emily Dickinson ( 1830~ 1886)
How do you unwind after a demanding day? – Poetry does it for me, thank you WP.
The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
At night’s delicious close.
Between the March and April line—
That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
Almost too heavenly near.
It makes us think of all the dead
That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
Made cruelly more dear.
It makes us think of what we had,
And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
Would go and sing no more.
An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
By Emily Dickinson ( 1830~1886)
How would you improve your community?
As an outsider to this hood, I can tell you the community has absolutely nailed it. There is nothing I could do or say to improve it.
Instead, as you know, when given the space, I will put the words of others. Several of you have told me you love this poem, as do I. So I’m sure you won’t mind me posting it again..and again..and again 🐦⬛
Hope is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
By Emily Dickinson ( 1830~1886)
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
Dearest You
Who knew it would take me all morning to stumble over the words I have in my head for you. Let alone get them down in print?
I’m concerned you may not be as comfortable in that skin as you once were. I’m worried that you won’t have a companion cat or dog because you would spend endless hours every day fretting what would become of them when you spin of this Mortal Coil.
I would like to be there to hold your hand and look deep in your eyes, and feel how your heart is holding up.
You will not be best pleased what ageing has done to your physical appearance. Not in the vain ” ooh aren’t I pretty” kinda way, but in a ” yes, I can scrub up ok” when I try.
You will have done your best to keep your eye on the ever-changing landscape. If you have a device on your lap, that would be wonderful.
Someone to give you a hand and chat to if you need that. The ability to get out into the fresh air and light, maybe a short stroll. To enjoy fresh food.
As I write this today, my very being is full of hopes for you. Remember Emily Dickinson’s Hope is a Thing With Feathers? Do you still enjoy poring through poetry books? I’d like to think so.
And now it’s time to close.
It’s March 10th 2026. It’s cold out there, but the spring flowers are doing well, and today, there’s not a cloud in the perfectly blue sky. There is even a little warmth in the sun.
May you find a ray of sunshine to sit peacefully in each day. May your sight be clear to see the natural world. May all your senses be your friends.
🩵💚🩷
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Dont tell! they’d banish us – you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell your name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!
Emily Dickinson 1830~1886
If you started a sports team, what would the colours and mascot be?
If it’s OK with you WP, I’ll simply stick with my original home team. Aston Villa FC. Claret & Blue. Hercules, the lion is the mascot.
..and guess what ? There is space on this page for the words of another. I know some of you are getting to love this poem as much as I already do.
Hope is a Thing with Feathers by Emily Dickinson ( 1830~1886)
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
AI says..The poem uses an extended metaphor comparing abstract hope to a resilient bird that lives in the soul, singing wordlessly but powerfully, sustaining humans through life’s harshest “storms” (gales, chillest land) without ever asking for anything in return, emphasizing hope’s innate, selfless, and persistent nature as a constant, free companion that offers comfort and strength.
What was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?
Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
By Emily Dickinson. Published in 1891.
What’s the story behind your nickname?
I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody too?
Then there’s a pair of us – don’t tell!
They’d advertise – you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell ones name the lifelong day
To an admiring bog.
Emily Dickinson ( 1830~1836)
IN THE BOOMER PIGEON HOLE? 
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