Emily Dickinson's poetry is too preoccupied with personal issues to be of relevance to men, or women of our time. How far do you agree with this statement?

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Emily Dickinson's poetry is too

preoccupied with personal issues

to be of relevance to men, or women of our time.

How far do you agree with this statement?

It is a common view that poetry is often the result of a deeply felt reaction to one's life and society. Hence, over 100 years on since Dickinson died, this would lead us to assume that her poetry can hold no value to us as now: society must have changed beyond all comprehension to that when she was alive - or so we would like to think. It is almost a disconcerting thought that we could possibly still relate to people at a time when women could not vote and many of the great inventions of the twentieth century were only just appearing. Hence, the individual aspirations of people must have been somewhat different - but it is precisely the contrary which Emily Dickinson's poetry shows us: she displays the same fears, regrets and power of emotion that we do today. In fact, her poetry is astoundingly modern:

'Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne'er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need'. #67

The aphoristic quality of this poem is clear even to a modern reader. The imagery of 'nectar' and 'sweetest' creates a bittersweet testimony of the way one feels in defeat. The simplicity of the poem and the almost child-like rhythm of it subconsciously reminds the reader of the fragility of human emotions even in adulthood.

Many of Dickinson's poems are dedicated to absolutes: to life and death - that which will always apply:

'There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,
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As lately as Today -

I know it, by the numb look...' #389

Here Dickinson notes the cold and frigid nature that society treats death with. For all the ostentatious ceremony that was characteristic in the Victorian period, there is little true feeling; a window opens 'abrupt - mechanically', people wonder if 'it died - on that', and a mysterious 'somebody' flings the mattress out. The poem exudes a lack of personality, a lack of concern and above all a lack of emotion.

For me, the obscurity of her imagery is painfully exquisite; it ...

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