I decided long ago to never second guess the person who is my “Guest” this week. It is a strange circumstance in that I cannot consider her a GUEST when she is a part of the very fabric of this amazing place. The decision to open this site stemmed from me and Marie wanting the P.A.D. sessions we had experienced to go on. Taking a cue from our joint blog, ACROSS THE LAKE, EERILY, Marie and I messaged back-and-forth wanting to have our poet friends have a hand in promoting their own work here at CREATIVE BLOOMINGS (formerly POETIC BLOOMINGS). By the time our conversation had ended the foundation of what you see here was up and running. It is and remains our joint effort even in either of our absenses. Marie Elena Good, don’t EVER think you’re free of this place by any stretch of your imaginings. For as you can see, every time you think you’re out, I pull you back in!




ONCE UPON A TIME: She daily poemed (and watched as they grew), while posting and hosting a blog (or two). But life called, her muse stalled; regretfully she bid adieu. With publications next to nil, she’s working on her kid lit, still. But market research does her in – she hardly knows where to begin. She’s pleased as punch to look around and see what’s Blooming on home ground – to host again (though as a guest), with chance to pen with poeming’s best!

Take your cue from Emily Dickinson and begin your poem with the line – “Beauty crowds me till I die”

It doesn’t have to be a physical death. It could be the “death” of something… your time, negativity… you decide the terms.



“Beauty crowds me till I die” ~ Emily Dickinson

I feel it closing in, 
and I am surrounded 
by the crushing beauty of life.
Majesty and magnificence shadow
my insignificance, squeezing me
until I am empty and tossed
onto the pile of misused muse.  
Another wizard of words
awaits my space and time will march
on in beauty, until HE dies!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2014



‘til death

Should beauty crowd me ‘til I die
And I should die before I wake,
Come waltz with me ‘neath moonlit sky;
Come lie to me for old times’ sake.

Convince me of my silken lips
Pretend I am your only love
I’ll sigh as song and moon eclipse –
Though it’s not me you’re singing of.

Should jealousy devour me,
Suspicion instigate my death,
I’ll likely simply let it be …
Let bitterness inhale my breath.

© Marie Elena Good, 2014





  1. His Beauty

    I felt it pressing in on me,
    His beauty I could not escape,
    Suffocating, but pleasantly,
    And I, I watched His love take shape

    Until I couldn’t breathe for joy,
    I couldn’t even see for tears,
    I felt Him come in and destroy
    The hollow ache of countless years;

    Beauty came crowding close around
    Me as I stood and breathed it in,
    And I could feel His grace abound,
    I felt Him kill my doubt, my sin.

    © Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2014

  2. A matching pair: ME and Walt,like fish and chips, Laurel and Hardy, Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern….. Two lovely poems. Here’s mine.

    Should beauty crowd me till I die
    you can be sure – I will not lie –
    the ache of nature’s loveliness
    is marred by age’s ugliness.
    The glow of artistic masterpiece
    contributes to our happiness
    which our decay cannot outweigh,
    but only the memory
    of our youthful beauty
    can take away the ghastliness
    of growing old and dying.


    Beauty crowds me till I die.
    Although my world be small,
    I fain would die in beauty’s lie
    than die to none at all.

    Life, I know, will surely end —
    when summer ends, comes snow—
    but if this Beauty be a friend,
    ah, what a way to go!

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  4. Walt: As always, your words are beautifully strung, and undeniably from the core of your heart. Keep poeming, always and forever.

  5. Walt and Marie, your examples are superb. But then, that’s nothing new. Thanks very much for the inspirations. And thanks, Marie, for a view of your other eye.

  6. “Beauty crowds me till I die” ~ Emily Dickinson


    Neon lights blinking come-ons
    To those enamored by Topography
    –– Beauty’s surface sense ––
    recklessly take Helm
    Begging transport to the Moon
    Whose Countenance conceals
    Secrets the Galaxy keeps hidden
    In the folds of Flash and Orbit

    Society entraps foolish lovers
    With false Idolatries
    Swearing Beauty is so Deep
    It burrows to both Heart and Soul
    But Angels at my Ear have Whispered
    Truth: Beauty crowds me till I die.
    Seek instead, they Counsel me,
    The Purity beneath the Heart’s façade



    Beauty crowds me till I die in peace
    for, like the cries of migratory geese,
    it flies incessantly throughout the day
    to meet my eye each step along my way
    and greets my mind and heart without surcease.

    From daffodils of spring; from ancient Greece;
    from trombones uttering their sweet release;
    from photographs that speak in hues of grey,
    beauty crowds me till I die

    and frees my soul. No monarch can decrease
    the wonderment I feel; no golden fleece
    could share the value of the willow’s sway
    in gentle breezes; nothing else can stay
    the ever-cycling sunset’s deep cerise.
    Beauty crowds me till I die.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

    • Just marvelous, William. I was flowing along with the words, seeing each statements image like a slide show, and got to the last line–it took me into a double take because it truncated the first line and left out “in peace.” My mind had filled it in, even when eyes didn’t see it. How odd. Perhaps that’s how the beauty was seen for that specific line–as a circle to blend with the first one.

      Regardless, I loved this one, too. You always have such terrific verse, my friend.

      • That’s so interesting, Clauds, how our minds can do that – fill in words our eyes do not see. That happens to me sometimes too, even to the point of having to re-read to be sure.

        You are right about Bill’s verse. He is a master, IMHO.

        • Thank you both for the kind words. As for the poem, I’m now wondering if I remembered the structure of a rondeau; better look it up.

    • From the title to the last line, this is masterful William. I love your skilled use of repetition of the prompt line “beauty crowds me till I die” – the way it’s woven seamlessly, or set apart, really brings the poem together in a unique way. It’s spectacular.

  8. Beauty

    ‘Beauty crowds me till I die’
    floods of emotion bent to sigh.
    A sunrise, a sunset with hues
    so lovely my heart is bruised
    to shades of blue and indigo.
    A symphony, violins, the piccolos
    stir a maelstrom as I succumb to tears
    of fiercest joy. In celestial spheres
    angelic choirs of majesty could not
    but weep, too, for this beauty wrought
    by some thought higher than
    the dreams and talents of mere man.
    Oh, beauty crowds me till I die
    and I ask, why, oh, why
    must beauty cause this exquisite ache
    that makes my heart so nearly break?

    Welcome Marie- so nice to have you back. I’ve missed your sweet self.

    • Oboyoboy…. the sights and sounds herein are stupendous, in my opinion. Utterly gorgeous work.

      • Oh yes – utterly gorgeous for sure! “Floods of emotion bent to sigh” – *sigh* – ADORE this phrase. This whole piece is elegant as can be, and the subtle internal rhymes are fabulous.

        Thanks to YOUR sweet self for the kind comment. 😉

    • Simply a beauty in itself is this poem, Debi. And your final question speaks for so many of us when we see something so indescribably beautiful that an ache is the only response possible.

  9. Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die

    By David De Jong

    “Beauty crowds me till I die” ~ Emily Dickinson

    Beauty to the eye your essence brings
    Crowds of joys, love simply sings
    Me serenely complete, more alive.
    Till eternity fanes to survive,
    I cherish you, till heaven descends,
    Die I shall, but my love never ends.

  10. I couldn’t stop at one today…

    When we see a mountain range of purple and smoky hue or a Technicolor
    sunset that splashes the sky with rose and orange, our heart leaps.
    When we hear the sweet song of the thrush, the fiddle tune of a cricket,
    the soft coo of a baby or mournful cry of the dove, beauty crowds us till we die.
    Beauty awakens something in us. It is a longing, I think, not for creation’s excellence alone but for the Creator, for there is a witness within us that won’t be silent – not chance, not chance – design.
    And we long for Shangri-La, Narnia, Eden, Heaven… peace, the Lion, perfection and God.

    Beauty is
    another word
    for longing.

    • I never can remember the name of this form; haibun, is it? Whatever it is, it is beautiful and heartfelt.

    • Are you trying to outdo yourself today, Debi? If so, you may have achieved it with this one. Tremendous. Haibun, yes, though I’ve not seen it in this particular format. As you say, it didn’t post as you’d written it.

      No matter. It’s FANTASTIC as it stands.

    • Glitch in the works today. I posted my comment and it disappeared. No matter. I can still type.

      Debi, you may have outdone yourself with this one. The last one was fantastic, and this one is right up there with it. I’m reading it as Haibun, too. Lovely and lovingly done. You can be proud of your efforts today for sure.

    • Debi, I’ve said similar words to you before, but I’ll say this again: I’ve enjoyed watching you grow as a poet. I’ve enjoyed it IMMENSELY. This haibun (Bill is right) is filled to overflowing with exquisite charm, and gives rightful praise to our Creator. Sal is beaming, I’m sure.

    • Nice example of a well-worded prose poem, or rather a haibun…I just noticed you used the prompt as a haiku very ably at the end…well done!

    • I love this, particularly the beautiful ending.
      Yes, there is beauty in longing and longing in beauty.
      Reminds me of Rilke’s words:
      Go to the limits of your longing…
      Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror…
      Just keep going…
      Nearby is the country they call life…

  11. MARIE! You’ve come home! So lovely to see you here today and to see your verse blazing on the chalkboard for us to study. You and Walt have given us heady examples to emulate, but it looks like those in the audience are excelling at the lesson. Me? We’ll see in a little bit if I can come up to snuff in this illustrious group.

    On a personal note, I so love seeing you here, my old friend.

    • Awww … thank you SO much, Clauds! It really is good to be here, taking time to read carefully and converse with my incredibly talented poet friends. I miss it terribly, but also know I can’t possibly keep up long-term as I used to.

      As for our poets excelling? Oh. My. YES!!

      Hugs to my wise and wonderful friend. 🙂

      • The difficulty of keeping up long-term is understandable, but there’s no doubt but that the garden is sunnier when you’re in it.

  12. My offering for today. Enjoy.

    “Beauty crowds me ‘til I die” ~ Emily Dickinson

    Inside life’s soup bowl of starry nights
    and fistfuls of meadow’s delights,
    I slumber within wakefulness
    amid Gaian beauty’s awareness,
    to taste and smell, touch and see
    those jewels laid out before me.

    Beauty roars with its constant song,
    delivering peace when things go wrong,
    drawing attention to life’s bonuses
    of Nature’s flavorful sating plusses,
    leaving me awaiting Beauty’s final meal
    before Winter’s heralding white peal.

    (a shadorma)

    “Beauty crowds me till I die”
    ~ Emily Dickinson

    There she stands,
    flamboyant and bright;
    tall and red,
    what a sight.
    I, planted in her shadow,
    will wither and die.

    P. Wanken

    This will be posted Monday on my blog with an accompanying photo for a “100 Day Challenge” I’m in. The photo was posted today from someone in a different time zone, who is ahead of me. Which works nicely since I’ve been using the photos posted as my inspiration.

  14. “Lost: One friend.”

    Beauty crowds me till I die—
    the breadth of friendship charmed
    Arbors linked in faithful hearts
    with comfort poised beside.

    Wild the current of burden’s fields
    like summer’s heat on grain.
    Where shared eternal woe and joy
    supplanted Adam’s stain.

    Drink me in O Summer’s blight
    Weave your stamens free.
    Magnify the fragrant mourn
    till splendor binds lost friend with me.

  15. It truly is very uplifting to feel the warmth and intimacy amongst all the beautiful flowers in this wonderful garden-

    “Beauty crowd me till I die”- Emily Dickinson

    A Prayer

    Beauty – crowd me till I die
    Let me soak in your third eye
    Lead my hand to find a way
    and scoop the silver, in the gray
    Let me breathe your dull sweet ache
    Feed on bright, in blackened lace
    Let my vision grow and bloom
    see, beyond the masked costumes
    Understanding, rise and fall
    may I lift the good in all
    Beauty — crowd me till I die
    And, when its time— just let me fly

  16. “Beauty Crowd Me” by Emily Dickinson

    Beauty crowds me til I die
    And well that day should be
    Upon the closing of my eye
    Beauty lies down with me

    I would tread that starry trail
    That now no eyes can see
    Where angels tread, no feet shall fail
    In such glorious company!

  17. Pingback: Breathing Space | Metaphors and Smiles

  18. Breathing Space

    Beauty crowds me till I die
    all of the hurry and worry disappears
    for they have no proper place in nature.
    All of this leafed loveliness embraces me
    it fills me with wonder – understands me deeply,
    it decodes my DNA – strands spiral transparently.
    I’m not a secret-sacred-separate being out here,
    just another lumbering but wonderful one of them
    only slowly will I die to my human errant ways…
    swaying as a small sapling in a sea of trees
    reaching to the ever-present giving-sun,
    ambitious and ready for the real mystery.
    There’s much to be learned
    humbled under shadow of fern,
    many lessons to be gleaned
    within the silent in betweens –
    stillness whispers and screams
    it speaks in streams and foliage
    and it will wait for me to notice.
    Lotus pink in peaceful bloom,
    she assumes this achievement
    with no hindrance or help from me.
    Just as these flowering lungs within
    they do not begin one breath
    or end another of my petition,
    I’m offered this gift of sipping air
    and just as freely as its been given
    I will not despair when the time has arrived –
    the moment my breath finally meshes with all that is
    roots will roil productively with new purpose.
    The collective pulse that pushes and pulls
    draws me ever close to my last and first final-beautiful-breaths
    and beauty crowds me till I die.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  19. Marie! So exciting to see you hosting here, our dear. And what a lovely prompt to host for. Walt is right, you can never escape. I hope to get a post out and comment on these perfectly penned poems.

  20. Living in Beauty

    May beauty crowd me till I die
    with silver rains, with butterflies,
    works of art that make me cry,
    a sunflower’s shaded velvet eye.

    If beauty crowds me till I die
    may rainbow colors float nearby,
    and music fill my ears. A sigh
    escapes my lips–a whispered good-bye.

  21. Okay…here’s a quick one that may (in light of all the fine, Dickinson-worthy thoughtful verse above) get me kicked off the site. Just a little morbidity with my kid-lit gene acting up tonight.
    Skin Deep

    If beauty crowds me till I die,
    I hope the worms enjoy it,
    a feast of rotting handsomeness
    with fresh green mold upon it.

    I’m sure they’ll mind their p’s and q’s
    from toes to hips to head
    at such a fine good looking meal,
    a beauty-laden spread.

    I know what you are thinking.
    This likely will not be.
    The chance that I die beautiful?

    The beauty all around me?
    Yes, there is much of that,
    but it can’t penetrate the skin
    where ugly hangs it’s hat.

    © 2014, Damon Dean

  22. Hi, Marie. Good to have you back for a bit!

    Catch ‘em While They’re Young

    ‘Beauty crowds me til I die’
    says Emily, alone, depressed,
    but ugliness can’t satisfy
    our human need for gorgeousness.

    Don’t paint the kindergarten red
    or orange, brightest purple, green,
    lest children, dazzled, are misled
    to bounce off walls, collide, careen.

    Don’t overstimulate their eyes
    and hope their minds will stay serene.
    Rainbows fade into distant skies,
    a measured dose of lovely scene.

    Steep kids in squalor’s muddy grays
    and color them inside the lines
    until they think in murky ways
    and never question wonder’s signs.

    Imagination takes to light—
    a flower’s scent, a helping hand,
    an apple pie, bright birds in flight
    are beauties children understand.

    We seem to fear from babyhood
    that too much beauty overawes;
    we crowd out joy and smother good
    and grow up keen on finding flaws.

    And Emily in love with all
    her garden and her heart can bear
    knows love expands us though we fall,
    and beauty saves us from despair.

    • Jane, Jane, Jane … oh how I wish I could write like this. I can write this imaginatively and outside-the-box in bursts of short poetry, but cannot sustain it as you do for many-a-stanza, not waning in quality of thought and rhythmic perfection. WOW.

      “Steep kids in squalor’s muddy grays
      and color them inside the lines
      until they think in murky ways
      and never question wonder’s signs.”

      This should be a banner. AMEN and AMEN. Isn’t it such a shame that people actually live this out? Perhaps unaware, but sadly live it out nevertheless.

    • Your poems are so well written, Jane, I am in awe… And I so agree:
      … love expands us though we fall,
      and beauty saves us from despair.

    • Emily was a complicated person, perhaps a conflicted one, according to9 what little I’ve read of her life. Your poem delves into complexity and emerges with beauty, or so it seems to me, and thus feels right for both the prompt and its inspiration. Aside from that, the elegance of the writing is astounding yet satisfying. Just wonderful.

    • Yes, yes, yes. Add my voice to the chorus of admirers Jane. This should be an anthem for kids…it’s so beautifully written and the message one that is so needed. Nicely done, as always.

    • Jane, what wise caution, a desperately needed warning to us all to let beauty do its work in our children, and in us. This plea could not have been worded better.

    • wow, Jane. Please forgive for not stating this more poetically but…this poem totally rocks!!!!

      Also, I love these lines (which are, unfortunately, too true for many):

      We seem to fear from babyhood
      that too much beauty overawes;
      we crowd out joy and smother good
      and grow up keen on finding flaws.

    • Oh, Jane, this is simply spectacular. You have graced us with something amazing, not just in its form or flowing words that trip off the tongue like water, but with images of meaning that aren’t seen often anywhere.

  23. Pingback: “Beauty crowds me till I die” ~ Emily Dickinson | Vivinfrance's Blog

  24. Pingback: Off The Path Into Dusty Clouds | The Chalk Hills Journal

  25. Off The Path Into Dusty Clouds

    “Beauty fills me ‘till I die” – Emily Dickinson

    Beauty fills me ’till I die, when fresh
    Spring has left its kiss on departure;
    A flowing green brighter than sunlight.
    Yes, that’s it, I’m quite sure – on that day
    The forest was more green than bright,
    And there was this ancient scent, a musky
    Luring nudge for nature and nurture.
    I stepped off the footpath, dusty clouds
    Drawn into the dry June air, birds louder
    Than distracted thoughts, and that green
    Pulled me deeper and darker, swallowed
    Into its beauty. And when I take my leave
    Of this world, this green is where I’ll go.


    (c) Misky 2014 Photo accompanies this poem which was taken in Kongemindevejen, Bornholm, Denmark last week while on holiday. The photo is at

    • Misk, this is amazing. There are so many layers to this beautiful, thought-provoking piece. It carries with it a somber and reflecting mood, yet its natural beauty and hope is an unmistakable presence. I see reflections of yourself, creation, life and death and life reborn, and even of Adam and Eve here. Perhaps that wasn’t your intention, or perhaps it was … but no matter, it’s there for me and I’m about to enjoy a third read through it to see what else I find.

      • Bornholm, the place where I just spent two weeks is an extraordinary island, and it left me feeling quite refreshed yet humbled. I’m glad that you enjoyed reading this one, Marie. Thank you.

    • This poem has layers, as Marie says; that’s what struck me too. That, and the green. It so happens that green is my favorite color, and this poem is a veritable paean to it. Wonderful.

    • Misky, this moment was lovely. I am particularly fond of those “birds / louder than distracted thoughts” which seem to be a perfect description of beauty’s sacred duty.

  26. Pingback: The Beauty of the Inevitable | The Chalk Hills Journal

  27. “Beauty crowds me till I die”
    “And never stops – at all – “
    ~ Emily Dickinson

    The flowers I planted
    in my small hand-made
    garden of Eden
    crowd me with the beauty
    of their short-lived
    alluring colors.

    And the butterflies
    stalking sweetness
    dance happily around
    to the end of their day −
    marking my brief summer
    with fairy-tale magic.

    Can you, summer beauties,
    teach me, greedy human,
    to find bliss, in spite,
    then go gentle into the night −
    as if a one and only season
    is good enough?

    Or, can you show me
    the way to a real Eden,
    that can be found when lost −
    a never-never-land
    of beauty-filled forevers,
    with no endings or untills?

    Or, can you crowd my soul
    with lasting visions
    of undying splendors,
    all set to soar high
    when this beauty dies −
    perching like birds of hope
    that never stop at all?

    • This impresses me deeply. I like the way you’ve used Dickinson’s words to bookend it, so to speak, and the evolution of your musings is so fitting, given the possibilities that lie in even one flower or butterfly or bird. This poem ahs me thinking. Marvellous.

      • Oh, absolutely! This feels like a lovely walk. Nurit, your beauty goes on forever … no endings or untils.

      • Thank you very much, William! It is just that “beauty crowds me” feels so blissful, but “till I die” seems like a fall from grace, so I tried to get some help from Emily herself (and others) to find ways around it…

    • Nurit, I am taken with your work, not having seen it often. I can identify so well with your dialogue with colorful joyful garden visitors who probably know more of drinking in beauty than I ever will fathom.

      • Thank you very much, Damon. I actually posted on this site for the first time last week, and I post sporadically because I am a slow and tedious writer − my poems take time and hard labor to be born. Also, my days entail an ongoing effort to find balance, and quoting your poem: “The world is overwhelmed…”

    • Ooo…I also love the way you closed this poem and I really love the butterfly speak…learning from them how to enjoy this beauty of such a short season. Gorgeous writing, indeed.

      • Thank you very much, Hannah. Still learning (and the butterflies are such good teachers…)

    • Wonderful, Nurit. Great questions, all. And ones we may all ask ourselves from time to time. Love this gentle approach with all its many corners.

  28. The Beauty of the Inevitable

    Beauty fills me ’till I die,
    For I am the eternal start
    Of the inevitable end.
    I am that hint, that start of heat
    At sunrise when plum red skies
    Rise in scalded hushes. I am kissed
    Sighs of wind dipped in sheaths
    Of grain, and I dance on slightest
    Caress to green. See my leaves high
    With pollen dust. I am the first rattle
    Of thunder that shakes feet to running,
    And darkens clouds with sodden weight.
    I am the first raindrop on dusty ground,
    A hint of torrents, floods of squelching.
    I’m a road too long, too straight, mistaken
    As white light departure; that white house,
    Distant and filling your eye with godliness.
    I am a white spot on complete black …
    Endless. And I’m filled, as I inevitably drain.


    And beauty fills me ’till I die. – Emily Dickinson

    There’s a photo that goes with this poem at

  29. Pingback: Flamboyant | echoes from the silence

  30. Hey, folks! Love the new title of the blog. Walt, I can see you still have your “wing girl” no matter what, ha ha. Not going to attempt the prompt, but I did want to stop by after seeing Misky’s gorgeous poem above. Walt, yours was irreverent and fun – always nice to have a bit of the sardonic when dealing with the Belle – and Marie, that second line, an oldie in iambic pentameter, well, that was an inspired choice of wording. I’m working on a triptych about my late brother-in-law, so can’t take on a prompt, but it’s so nice to be here, check in, see the new look. And like I said, it’s all on Misky’s wonderful work! Love you all madly, Amy

  31. GOOD COP

    Beauty crowds me till I die;
    it does so to police
    each terror that befouls my eye
    so I might rest in peace.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  32. Truth Freed

    Beauty crowds me ‘til I die—
    then Crowds me in the Grave,
    stilling pressing me for Compliments,
    still making Truth her slave.

    I ask her, Isn’t it enough
    you’ve buried me in Dirt?
    But she just simpers–worried how
    her ass Looks in that skirt,

    Always concerned that she will Fade
    while I become a Torch—
    she serenades—I merely speak—
    she Poses—while I Search.

    Some people Talk as if we’re twins—
    or synonyms—poetic Cant!
    If Death has taught me anything,
    it’s Tell your truth—but tell it Slant.

    (I fooled around with a few other Dickinson thoughts in Tell the Truth but Tell it Slant, I Died for Beauty, and Because I Could Not Stop for Death)

    • Brava! Emily probably didn’t know Spanish, but somewhere—perhaps buried with Beauty—-she’s saying the same.

    • Oh my word, how DO you do it?! Jane, Jane, Jane… See my response to Amy above about Misk and other regulars. You are counted in that group … way toward the top.

    • Jane, I get tired and tongue-tied trying to come up with superlatives worthy of your work and other’s of your ilk here at CB. Everything I want to say sounds trite. So, can I just say I enjoyed this?

    • Masterful reply to the prompt as always…Jane your verse is amazing. This gathering of our poet’s views encompasses her layers of thin respect, with a hint of cynicsism, and a trace of morose self confidence.

    • You’ve done far more with this than I could have, for certain, Jane. It’s terrific and follows the needs of all sources. That’s talent. Thanks so much for showing us how it’s done and giving us an example of mastery.

  33. HER SIN

    Beauty, she
    crowds incessantly.
    making me
    breathe less free,
    for her perfume stinks, you see.
    I wish she would flee.

    copyright 2914, William Preston


    Daybreak falls upon a field.
    Nature wakes to rise and shine.
    Sunlight births a garden’s yield.
    Beauty crowds these eyes of mine.

    Shadows waltz on moonlit paths.
    Diamonds blaze a midnight sky.
    Silence quells the earthly wraths.
    Beauty crowds me ‘til I die.

    © Susan Schoeffield

  35. Pingback: WONDER WORLD | Words With Sooze

  36. My computer went down about the time I found Sunday’s prompt. Sorry for not reading/responding to the individual answers (this looks like a lively discussion!). I was able to write a poem by hand.


    Beauty crowds me till I die
    Sucking my breath with
    Pollen-swollen floss
    Sloughing off my skin in
    Pursuit of summer sun
    Cacophony of judgment
    Stills the voice of my drum
    Until a single word cracks
    The dam, releasing fear
    The pursuit of beauty squashes me,
    Flattening, crushing, draining me
    Till I die inside, leaving
    Only a brittle outer shell

    Darlene Franklin ©2014

      • Yes. Yes, indeed. And I like how you word this, Damen.

        Darlene, there is much wisdom in your well-strung words. Thank you for this.

        • Thank you, Marie. I look forward to getting to know you better (being such a newcomer myself, you are a legend in these parts)

    • Wow, this went in a much different direction than most here. It makes perfect sense, though, given the word, “crowds.” Most impressive.

      • William, I wish I could have written a trinity of poems, about beauty, crowds, and death. But this one came out first. 🙂 Thanks.

    • This is a unique take on beauty, Darlene, at least for this prompt. But for so many, this is also a daily reality that’s been taken to extremes in our world. We keep trying to quantify the quality of beauty, removing degrees of loveliness until the ultimate degree is the only one that matters or is recognized. Sad, we are, to have reduced the world to this state.

      Your poem brings that truth out into the light, to show the inner damage done to the person. Very well written, Darlene.

  37. I made the mistake of reading the poems that are posted before writing mine. And guess what! I won’t be writing one now. Not only am I too busy this week but OMG! OMG! These poems are awesome. All I have to say is: thank goodness I am not guest host. Poor Marie Elena and Walt.

    • I just went looking for your poem, Linda…thank you for your comment and I hope you have a great week…I agree with you, there’re a lot of really amazing poems out here!! :)’s

    • *sigh*

      Yes. Using the terms “awesome” or “amazing” or “incredible” to describe the works of the talented poets out here seems trite, doesn’t it? I don’t even know what words to use anymore. My heart is full, and I feel like it will be nearly impossible to choose a Bloom from among you all.

  38. Okay. These fine offerings have seriousized my mood. Here’s a second attempt.
    The Gifted or the Dead?

    Who does beauty crowd until they die?
    And how? And why?
    Do some have special cones inside the eye
    that trip synapses when a sunset flares?
    Is beauty in the eye, the cell, the molecules of those who see it?
    Or when a mother nurses do the glares
    of others screaming “private” grind against
    the heart of those with gifted arteries that feel instead
    in life the beat of art?
    Is there, perhaps imprisoned,
    in my brain
    a beauty politic?
    Can my verse, or yours penned so well, free it?
    Aromas pungent, tensile coarseness,
    black crow’s raucous grating song…
    how can the beauty in these things be wrong?
    Must we all die, our elements unbound
    to see what’s lovely?

    Ah, my answer’s found. I see.

    Beauty crowds.
    The world is overwhelmed,
    and much I will not, cannot see
    until I die.
    And then,
    I hope, I pray,
    there and then
    I’ll have a better eye.

    © Damon Dean, 2014

    • Wow, marvelously “seriousized.” (I’m gonna remember that word, even if it isn’t.)

    • I love your questions, and – following Rilke’s advice – I try to live the questions and be patient toward all that is unresolved … But I fully agree with your answer and with your hope=prayer. So well put…

    • Oh, Damon … this is just so full. So very full. It seems silly to point this out, among all the food for thought expressed here, but: I love how your questions and observations are penned in long, thoughtful string, followed by the clipped-and-to-the-point realizations. WOW.

    • Fantastic, Damon. Serious, indeed. You and Darlene should collaborate on this theme. I think you’ve both got it covered very well with cogent questions and inner truths. Terrific.

  39. Linda, that’s why I posted mine before looking. Too scary. 🙂 A wide variety of poems, well stated

    • I usually don’t read anything other than the prompt before I write mine. But this prompt is so cool I took a peek. Well, never again will I do that! Ended up totally blocked and feeling unworthy. These poems are great. Jane’s and quite a few others stand out. I’d have to give at leat 10 Blooms this week if I were taking part as a guest host. Really loving the work this week.

  40. Comparison

    “Beauty crowds me ‘til I die” ~ Emily Dickinson

    No comparison can be made
    of you: your beauty will not fade.
    A gem? A rose? Versaille?
    A tapestry of rich brocade?
    No. None of these will quite persuade
    me…ever, ‘til I die.


    Hi Marie! (Waves wildly.) 😀

    • *wave wave wave* 😀 !!

      RJ, I love where you’ve taken this prompt. “Comparison.” Yes … that word can be a curse, can’t it? But here it is the blessing of your subject. EXCELLENT.

    • RJ, I loved the undistracted focus in this take on the prompt. The brevity of the poem reinforces the writer’s focus on the subject of her admiration.

    • Lovely sentiments, RJ. I think we each have at least one person in our lives that feel that way about us. Whether the sentiments is ever spoken aloud is another issue. But person, place or thing–all with purpose, all with unique beauty. Well done.

  41. Beauty Crowds me Till I Die

    And glad I am that such is so
    for ugly walks bold world-wide
    Bloodying the sky, colouring snow
    war-black, leaving me grey inside

    Yes, beauty crowds me till I die

    It makes life bearable it does
    able to fight against the wide abyss
    to learn the way to live with cause
    occasionally in joy and bliss

    So, beauty crowd me till I die

    Remind me of the star-pricked sky
    the one that tents above us all
    There’s so much more to do than die
    and my back’s not yet against the wall.

    • Sharon! This is outstanding, but I especially am greatly impressed with:

      “for ugly walks bold world-wide
      Bloodying the sky, colouring snow
      war-black, leaving me grey inside”

      The flawless cadence and creative wording only a true poet could conjure leaves me in awe. WOW!

    • Sharon, I agree. The cadence seems to reflect a breathing determination, a solid and defiant march against the ugliness that threatens to blind us.

      • And Damon, thank you also…your very eloquent piece further up above expresses beautifully (if I may put it like that) just how important it is that the beauty crowds us…I like how you put the question in every line and leave it more or less up to the reader to answer whether it will be “till I die” or sooner…a great take on vying with the world’s ugliness. I see we were somewhat on the same page. Thanks for taking the time read and comment.

    • Love this, Sharon. A reason given to always see the beauty, for it can so easily disappear in a sea of distraction and constant assaults on the senses. Wonderful.

  42. Dying to Be Beautiful

    “Beauty crowds me till I die.” Emily Dickinson

    Glamour and Vogue
    Paper her bathroom,
    Airbrushed perfection
    Preserved on glossy paper.
    The running tap
    Drowns the sound
    Of her dinner swirling
    In the porcelain bowl.
    A freak show mirror
    Hides the promise
    Sixteen should hold,
    Only reflecting
    Acid-rotted teeth
    Behind pallid lips,
    Long-dead hollow eyes,
    A 76 pound skeleton
    Wrapped in obese paranoia,
    Dying to be beautiful.

    • MARY! So good to see your words again. This is quite profound, and perfectly penned. So sad, the reality of which you write, isn’t it?

    • Ah, Mary, you’ve tackled our vanity and skewed reality of beauty. The ugliest side of all when it comes to the subject. Your portrayal is a wake-up call for many, and not just teens. How can any accept the beauty of themselves when such ideals are made mandatory. Excellent work here.

    • Aw, thanks so much everybody 🙂 I don’t venture online very often these days but just had to jump in on this prompt. The lengths some will go to chasing some pop culture ideal of beauty just breaks my heart, especially with a teenage girl in the house.

  43. Pingback: Palming Psalms in Blue | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  44. Blue

    My heart bursts its banks, spilling beauty and goodness. I pour it out in a poem to the king, shaping the river into words…
    -Psalm 45:1

    Beauty crowds me
    till I die, heart broken
    open, splayed loose into
    indigo mirror. Breath
    held, I praise the One
    who made the color,
    the water, the sky, my
    atrium, ventricle, bold
    and bruised, be
    -mused by all this
    grace. Face lifted to
    inky ceiling, splattered
    stars, I sing in words
    unsaid, scratch them
    into sand with trembled
    hand and lift my now
    -crowned head to see
    that You are reading,
    knowing me.


  45. Ah the PILLARS of the garden, Walt and Marie!!!!! 🙂 Smiles for miles……..
    You guys are all caps AWESOME. Honorable poems as usual. And a big HELLO MARIE!!! As they say in Spanish, Que paso, que no te veo? (Long time no see).



    “Beauty crowds me til I die”
    Emily Dickinson

    Shall beauty crowd the shames of wretched thorn? That bear my name, etched and wrought? How magnificent the thrusting throng, well donned, worn and wrought. Upon prickly, injurious spines, that ever find it’s way to vex hearts. Yet, “beauty crowds me ’til I die”.

    © Copyright 2014
    Benjamin Thomas


    “Beauty crowds me til I die”
    Emily Dickinson

    There is a crowning beauty that crowds me; conceals in ambulant glory. It shields me on a day of rain,
    and from the uprising countenance of Sun.

    It presses vigorously upon old wounds; impressing it’s new name, causing me to wield new joys, and liberates ten loads of shame.

    There is an excelling beauty that crowds me; that leaves me breathless, yet fills with a buoyant hope, until every cloud covets the ascent to freedom.

    Let her beauty crowd me until I die;
    Resisting the slow dissipation, reject her every wish to flee, and object every temptation.

    Let her follow me when I rise again,
    then crowd me in resurrection, with exemplary beauty in that day, basking in myriads of satisfaction.

    © Copyright 2014
    Benjamin Thomas

  48. Beauty Observed

    “Beauty crowds me till I die” ~ Emily Dickinson

    Beauty crowds me till I die,
    but often goes unnoticed,
    like the girl next door
    unexpectedly blossoms
    into a lovely woman.
    Hopefully we’ll wake up
    to the beauty all around
    and not pass it by.

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