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mike-essigPoems
~ BY THEODORE ROETHKE The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother’s countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
My Pappa's Waltz
~ BY THEODORE ROETHKE The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother’s countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
I used this little poem to teach college students how to read closely. It took a full hour to go through it line by line. They were amazed at how much is in so few lines. That's how you learn to read poetry, which really helps you learn to write it. Mike
#poetry#learning
mike-essig
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mike-essig
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
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