Hope is

I've been working on some new poems for the last few days, but as I understand it, I can't self-publish things here and then go on to submit them to literary journals since they generally need to be previously unpublished.

Since I have poems on the mind, though, I thought I would share a poem by someone else that appeals to me. By Emily Dickinson:

254

"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.

---

This isn't quite the photo I was looking for, but it's the same girl and same tattoo:



And then I found this very cool photo:


Both from sebastian's belle.

And while looking for the photo I wanted, I found this perplexing character. Giant blue bird on chest... lol.


From vincent swain.