Poem of the Day

I have to say that some of Williams’s poems speak to me more strongly than others. For example, what I like best about This Is Just To Say is the way other poets are inspired to parody. However, some of his longer poems resonate more with me and I admire that so much imagery and food for thought can be packed into such short stanzas. I discovered this one in Poetry on Record, in which the author read it. He also read The Red Wheelbarrow, but I think that To Elsie really came alive in his voice.

To Elsie
By William Carlos Williams

The pure products of America
go crazy—
mountain folk from Kentucky

or the ribbed north end of
Jersey
with its isolate lakes and

valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves
old names
and promiscuity between

devil-may-care men who have taken
to railroading
out of sheer lust of adventure—

and young slatterns, bathed
in filth
from Monday to Saturday

to be tricked out that night
with gauds
from imaginations which have no

peasant traditions to give them
character
but flutter and flaunt

sheer rags—succumbing without
emotion
save numbed terror

under some hedge of choke-cherry
or viburnum—
which they cannot express—

Unless it be that marriage
perhaps
with a dash of Indian blood

will throw up a girl so desolate
so hemmed round
with disease or murder

that she’ll be rescued by an
agent—
reared by the state and

sent out at fifteen to work in
some hard-pressed
house in the suburbs—

some doctor’s family, some Elsie—
voluptuous water
expressing with broken

brain the truth about us—
her great
ungainly hips and flopping breasts

addressed to cheap
jewelry
and rich young men with fine eyes

as if the earth under our feet
were
an excrement of some sky

and we degraded prisoners
destined
to hunger until we eat filth

while the imagination strains
after deer
going by fields of goldenrod in

the stifling heat of September
Somehow
it seems to destroy us

It is only in isolate flecks that
something
is given off

No one
to witness
and adjust, no one to drive the car

I realized when posting yesterday’s poem that I had never posted this one. Sorry about the white chickens, indeed!

The Red Wheelbarrow
By William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

This Is Just to Say is really the gift that keeps on giving…

An Apology
By F.J. Bergmann

Forgive me
for backing over
and smashing
your red wheelbarrow.

It was raining
and the rear wiper
does not work on
my new plum-colored SUV.

I am also sorry
about the white
chickens.

After the reference to William Carlos Williams in yesterday’s poem, I went looking for a poem of his to share. I was delighted to find this one about a painting involving Icarus, that was also referenced in Auden’s Musée des Beaux Arts.

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus attributed to Pieter Brueghel the Elder

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
By William Carlos Williams

According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring

a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry

of the year was
awake tingling
near

the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself

sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings’ wax

unsignificantly
off the coast
there was

a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning

Here is the promised William Carlos Williams poem I mentioned yesterday. Cheryl pointed out that it reminds her of a still life. It’s so short and simple, but if you close your eyes and listen to someone reading it, you’ll really feel like you’re there. I was actually surprised when I looked at the text because it seems so small, but if you hear it, it will be an entirely different experience.

Nantucket
By William Carlos Williams

Flowers through the window
lavender and yellow

changed by white curtains—
Smell of cleanliness—

Sunshine of late afternoon—
On the glass tray

a glass pitcher, the tumbler
turned down, by which

a key is lying— And the
immaculate white bed

I was leafing through The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, and I laughed out loud at today’s selection. I was immediately reminded of a pair of poems I previously posted. Amusingly enough, one of my poetry pals had chosen another William Carlos Williams poem to read on Saturday (which I’ll share tomorrow), but she also read This Is Just To Say. This prompted me to mention the Erica-Lynn Gambino “tribute” and then read Kenneth Koch’s offerings. We all had a good laugh.

Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams
By Kenneth Koch

1

I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.

2

We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.

3

I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.

4

Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor!

These two made me laugh. TGIF!

This Is Just to Say
By William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

This Is Just to Say
FOR WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
By Erica-Lynn Gambino

I have just
asked you to
get out of my
apartment

even though
you never
thought
I would

Forgive me
you were
driving
me insane.