William B. Watterson Poems

I started
to write a poem
about opportunity
being like water
...

The sea is
Terrifyingly beautiful
During a storm.
Keeping cadence
...

A gnarled, leathery hand
tousles salt-and-pepper hair,
then scrapes a three-day stubble.
Uncle O'dell wipes
...

Hunkering animatedly,
a sleek, black '47 Olds
patiently purrs
atop a newly-paved
...

ten
long years march
vapid across the soiled pages
in the dog-eared books
...

Standing together
on a paint-chipped platform
by a weather-scarred station,
they kissed
...

I am
of the earth itself,
first given life
by a god,
...

A consummate Southern gentleman, he had
A pleasant easy drawl, so smooth and slow
It tickled your ears and made you smile to hear
Him say, "Hello." My next-door neighbor for
...

I
A round glass bowl holds
Ten little golden sunbursts,
Orange straw flowers.
...

A bright, blue blur flashed in the April sun
As I jogged past a shakly barn along
A line of rotting fence near Wildcat Lake.
A lone bluebird homed in on a locust post,
...