Poetry

The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

The Broken Glasses Inspired by William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

the child’s broken
glasses

taped together in the
middle

allowing him to
see.

My Brother (a cinquain) by Alex Blose

Brother
younger, athletic
annoying, protecting, fighting
one in the world
Sibling

Found poetry inspired by several articles on a
“purple squirrel” spotted & captured in central PA.

The Oddly Colored Squirrel
by Alex Blose

Jersey Shore, Pennsylvania.
“It’s not typical, but it’s not impossible”,
a squirrel of a different color, a purple squirrel.

Using peanuts as bait,
an engineering slang term
for an impossibly ideal job candidate.

There seem to be several explanations:
dyed, stained, pokeberries, “fallen into a Port-a-Potty”.
Doesn’t pose a hazard or suffer from disease.

The poor little creature, finally set free,
leaving behind fur and some tail trimmings,
and a 3,800 person fan base on Facebook.

Next Time, Wipe Your Feet At The Door by Alex Blose
(a persona poem, written from the perspective of ‘the floor’)

I lay here, never speaking,
people walking all over me
and not being able to do anything about it.

I’m sometimes furry, sometimes soft,
sometimes wooden and slippery,
and sometimes cold, hard, and grey.

People never pay attention to me,
all I’m good for is something to walk across,
lay on, sit on, or stomp on.

Always dropping crumbs on me,
wiping your dirty, muddy feet across my surface.
Next time, wipe your feet at the door.

The Beginnings of Fall (a haiku) by Alex Blose

The first fallen leaf
Beautiful colors they are
Crinkle under feet

Where I’m From
Inspired by George Ella Lyon

I am from gleaming porcelain and glass shoes passed through the generations,
From homemade blueberry jam and hand-made dolls and wooden cribs.
I am from the many different homes (clean and warm, they smelled like Pine-Sol).
I am from garden fresh vegetables and Evergreen trees (filling the air with a fresh, Christmas scent).
I’m from churning apple butter and less than perfect vision,
From John and Katherine.
I’m from “eeny meeny miny moe” and jimmies,
From “money doesn’t grow on trees” and “stop hitting your brother!”
I’m from religion taught and long forgotten.
I’m from Punxsutawney, Germany, Poland, and the list goes on,
From pierogies and baklava.
I’m from a small-town family, a family of teachers.
I am from old and tattered boxes of pictures in Mom’s closet, from unfinished photo albums.
I am from stubbornness and humor,
I am from Pennsylvania.

Some poems by others that I like:

Playgrounds by Laurence Alma-Tadema

In summer I am very glad
We children are so small,
For we can see a thousand things
That men can’t see at all.

They don’t know much about the moss
And all the stones they pass:
They never lie and play among
The forests in the grass:

They walk about a long way off;
And, when we’re at the sea,
Let father stoop as best he can
He can’t find things like me.

But, when the snow is on the ground
And all the puddles freeze,
I wish that I were very tall,
High up above the trees.

Dreams by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

The Secret by Denise Levertov

Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.

I who don’t know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me

(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even

what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,

the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can’t find,

and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that

a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines

in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for

assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all.

One Flower by Jack Kerouac

One flower
on the cliffside
Nodding at the canyon