THE RED/BLUE WHEELBARROW WITH YELLOW SPOTS ON
Outside
the window
is
a William Carlos Williams poem
coming into being.
There, is
the red wheelbarrow
glazed
with rain
( minus
the chickens )
who
have wandered
off
as if not knowing
they are needed
to fulfill
the poem
upon which
so much
depends
(gone to lay an egg
as chickens do)
& as I turn away
they march back into view
taking up
their poetical positions.
This living poem
even has its seasons
appearing to me
now covered in snow
now how dazzling
in bright bright sunshine.
Sometimes
(for my own surreal reasons)
I paint the wheel barrow
a yellow or blue
or blue
with yellow spots or...
My wife laughs at me
& says: 'Oh...you! '
The wheelbarrow
long gone
to seed now
sleeps quietly
upside down
beside the hen house.
Flowers growing up
between its broken wheel
covered
in fallen leaves
it dreams of being
one day a real poem.
I smile.
'Now, where's
those chickens...gone? '
* * * * * *
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
THE RED/BLUE WHEELBARROW WITH YELLOW SPOTS ON
Outside
the window
is
a William Carlos Williams poem
coming into being.
There, is
the red wheelbarrow
glazed
with rain
( minus
the chickens )
who
have wandered
off
as if not knowing
they are needed
to fulfill
the poem
upon which
so much
depends
(gone to lay an egg
as chickens do)
& as I turn away
they march back into view
taking up
their poetical positions.
This living poem
even has its seasons
appearing to me
now covered in snow
now how dazzling
in bright bright sunshine.
Sometimes
(for my own surreal reasons)
I paint the wheel barrow
a yellow or blue
or blue
with yellow spots or...
My wife laughs at me
& says: 'Oh...you! '
The wheelbarrow
long gone
to seed now
sleeps quietly
upside down
beside the hen house.
Flowers growing up
between its broken wheel
covered
in fallen leaves
it dreams of being
one day a real poem.
I smile.
'Now, where's
those chickens...gone? '
* * * * * *
