Love is the thing with thorns

For my poetry class, we were assigned to consciously imitate a famous poem and it took me quite a bit of digging to find the right one for me. I love Emily Dickinson’s poem “Hope is the thing with feathers” and I wanted to try and imitate and make it my own. It was an interesting exercise to do and I highly encourage trying something like this for yourself.

Original:

“Hope is the thing with feathers” by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

 

And the 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 chilliest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

 

My rendition:

“Love is the thing with thorns” by Rebekah Shepherd

Love is the thing with thorns

That pierces the inner soul,

And scratches the skin without remorse,

And never stops at all,

 

And the sharpest in the garden is picked;

And sore become the fingertips

That are poked, prodded, and left to bleed

That throb from the immensity of rips.

 

I’ve felt it in the happiest times,

And in the years of bliss;

Yet, never, had a thorn,

Been a forgotten miss.