In Quiet Imitation of Dickinson:

By way of explanation, I began writing a response to a Tennyson poem I was reading on the bus on my way back from church tonight (yes, yes, I know...who reads Tennyson on the bus? Even reading Tennyson on the train would be more sophisticated. Please feel free to leave mocking remarks). A few lines in, I realized that with little or no effort, I could make it look like a passable Emily Dickinson poem - so I revised and five minutes later, had three decent verses in front of me. To be fair, a more successful imitation of Emily Dickinson's poetry might have more dashes and better metaphors :-) ...but I work with whatever pops into my head at the time, so take it or leave it.

What sadness, oh my lonely Sweet,
Hath filled this blighted breast,
And how this heart hath yearned in vain
For quiet, more gentle rest.

But only hurt, and deeper hurt,
Can Empathy portray;
And only Time - with outstretched arms -
Can ice-cold pain allay.

But what a silent agony
And what a silent part -
Is there - the quiet misery
That quells the human heart.

How do you use your time on the bus?
That girl in Switzerland