Epitaph On An Unread Verse After William Carlos Williams' Red Wheelbarrow - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
This is just to play on plum phrases
hibernating in your brainbox,
which your neurons were probably waiting for
to break free fast.
Forgive me their taste is delicious,
so neat and so bold.
An agèd poet with hollow laughter
swiftly sprayed her incisive syllables
in consonant activity and, yearning,
paid [s]lip service:
so much depends
upon lifelong learning's expectations,
an unread verse [s]pokes for comments,
reigns above lily-livered chicken-hearted critics
before a blank screen.
so much more depends
upon monochromatic ash clouds
glazed with silicates
Life is verse role-reversing uninclined ignorance
shadowing dis inclined ink lined page.
This is Just to Say
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Epitaph On An Unread Verse After William Carlos Williams' Red Wheelbarrow by Jonathan ROBIN
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You