A Wheelbarrow
a wheelbarrow
is a mere wheelbarrow
even if it is not
red or glazed
with rain water
it is
what it is
just a wheelbarrow
but look beneath
ourselves in the forest of our wanderings
there are trees there
growing in the dampness of darkness
looking for light
a river comes flooding
that is where
meaning sprouts
upsurging emotions
now without walls coming before your fences
a wheelbarrow
is not the same wheelbarrow anymore
emotions
your emotions made it
for not what it is
transmutation
from William to you and this world
looks not familiar
anymore
petals of meanings
red so real
thorns and stalks and dews
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Man's Pride For Safety
while it maybe true
that the red wheelbarrow
does not allow the rain
to drench it in inferiority
but it is the master farmer
that finally decides
whether it should rust
under the rain or not
on the other hand the
wheelbarrow knows that the
master farmer loves
whatever redness it has
even the accumulating rust
the white chickens though
preoccupied with the grains
knew all these glazes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Miss Reid's Speed Seeds Misread Red Weed Barrow Greed Screed
Miss Reid's Speed Seeds Misread Red Weed Barrow Greed Screed
So much depends upon callow Monsanto’s
arrow minded rein reign
glazed with gain and, again, phrased with pain,
wheedling sallow farmers who see red
forced to furrow b[l]ushels of transgenic sterile crop seeds
on narrow plain
lots which soon lie fallow
rather than wide marrow
raised with rain
and fertile appetizers
Need greed's speed weed reeds
beside white ants’
terror might nest?
Fazed again, who chickens out of errors?
12 October 2009 robi3_1928_will5_0006 PVW_JNX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red
wheelbarrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
William Carlos WILLIAMS 1883_1963
WILLIAMS William Carlos 1883_1963 will5_0001_will5_0000 PXX_NXX The Red Wheelbarrow_So Much Depends
__________________
The Yellow Goldfish
so much depends
upon
a yellow gold
fish
washed down with bowl
water
inside the white
kitten
William Carlos Williams’s Cat
Henry BEARD 1945_20xx bear1_0009_will5_0001 PXX_NXX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
______________________
The T.V. Guide
So much more depends
upon
a universal remote
control
sitting on a coffee
table
beside the TV
Guide
Chris CLOKE 19xx_20xx clok1_0001_will5_0001 PVW_JXX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
_____________________
An Apology
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.
Frances Jean BERGMANN 19xx_20xx berg1_0001_will5_0001 PWX_DJX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
______________________
The Red Cadillac
Willie 'Slick' Williams reads William Carlos Williams, then writes a letter to the producers of the TV makeover show 'Pimp My Ride', explaining why his car should be featured on the program.'
so much depends
upon
a red cadillac
slick
with turtle
wax
beside the white
chicks
Reginald O'Hare GIBSON 19xx_20xx gibs2_0001_will5_0001 PXX_MXX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
___________________
Grey Computer
so much depends
upon
the grey
computer
with its internet
resources
on the desk
beside my homework.
2008 Filippa ENNERFELT 19xx_20xx enne1_0001_will5_0001 PVW_MXX
__________________
Homeland Security Advisory System
nothing depends
upon
a red seal
blaring
phrases of high
terror
on the blue
website
September 2006 Jay SCOTT 1960_20xx scot4_0001_will5_0001 PVX_JXX
Parody William Carlos Williams 1883_1963 The Red Wheelbarrow
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Getting Old
when i was a child
i don't really know how significant is the
mona lisa
smile, at first glance nothing in it is delicious
like a chocolate cake
or a red lollipop
or magnolia drumstick
i remember
how you snub the red wheelbarrow
what is it in a rusty wheelbarrow that stirs mankind
into deep thinking?
now things have changed
the sigh has a lot to say to the wind
the air has a heart of its own
the sea becomes a body of a woman
the moon a beautiful face
the night is not a place for fear
but for desire
romance spreads in the air
and the flowers that we pluck for play
may better be
staying to bloom at their stalks
we watch things rot
flowers that wilt and give up their gnarled petals
time indeed makes us different
when the sunset comes we become too cautious
we choose the words
we place our hands properly on the table
our eyes sharp now
to every detail
inside the labyrinths of our hearts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pusher
have patience for a i am the pusher
of your dreams
the wheelbarrow of your ideas
glazed by your tears
beside those
black wild chickens
have courage for soon you shall rise
above my little spring
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Epitaph on an Unread Verse after William Carlos Williams' Red Wheelbarrow
This is just to play on plum phrases
hibernating in your brainbox,
which your neurones 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
beside Icelandic
eruptions.
Life is verse role-reversing uninclined ignorance
shadowing dis...inclined ink lined page.
(Revised 3 October 2009 and19 Aptil 2010)
This is Just to Say
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
William Carlos Williams 1883_1963
Variation on a Theme by William Carlos Williams
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!
Kenneth Koch 1925_20
Epitaph on an Unre[a]d Verse after William Carlos Williams
An aged 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 white chicken-hearted critics
on a blank screen.
Life is verse role-reversing uninclined ignorance
shadowing an inclined ink lined page.
(Parody William Carlos Williams Epitaph AND The Red Wheelbarrow written 14 September 2008)
Epitaph
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high bright tendrils
and sang:
Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood's edge.
William Carlos Williams 1883_1963
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red
wheelbarrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
William Carlos Williams 1883_1963
The Yellow Goldfish
so much depends
upon
a yellow gold
fish
washed down with bowl
water
inside the white
kitten
William Carlos Williams' Cat Henry BEARD Parody William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow
The T.V. Guide
So much more depends
upon
a universal remote
control
sitting on a coffee
table
beside the TV
Guide
Chris CLOKE - Parody William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow
An Apology
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.
Frances Jean BERGMANN
Parody William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow
The Red Cadillac
Willie 'Slick' Williams reads William Carlos Williams, then writes a letter to the producers of the TV makeover show 'Pimp My Ride', explaining why his car should be featured on the program.'
so much depends
upon
a red cadillac
slick
with turtle
wax
beside the white
chicks
Reginald O'Hare GIBSON 19_20
Parody William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow
Stuffing WCW
so much depends
upon
sodium erythorbate
and sugar
mixed with salt
water
inside the processed
chickens.
Parody Unknown Author William Carlos Williams The Red Wheelbarrow
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your wife and your wheelbarrow are two things that you should never lend to anyone.
It Matters Not to the Red Wheelbarrow
The red wheelbarrow doesn’t care
that it is rusty from rain
The chickens, however,
hate the taste
of the rust
So much
depends
on their eggs
poem by Mary Havran
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Poetry Is Not Just Feelings
i have long said
that there is no definition to poetry
it is
sui generis, a class of its own,
a evolution of meanings and a transfiguration of words
into substances beyond
the limitations of our minds,
if you say that poetry is feelings
what is then
those that we have not even felt and yet
strikes us as
poetic?
an enlightenment for instance
a divine revelation handed in a dream
in the form of metaphors
what about those that strike us
like a red wheelbarrow glazed with the rain
beside those white chickens?
what about those live frogs in the imaginary gardens
of our minds?
what about a new philosophy of life?
or the promiscuity of the glands?
there are no boxes that can contain all these
in one container
let the poem be just a river
going anywhere
let it just be the sea taking us anywhere
let it be the waves
to and fro arriving everywhere
or what? you name it, you 'll have it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have always hated machinery, and the only machine I ever understood was a wheelbarrow, and that but imperfectly.
Rickshaw
barrow, buggy, curricle,
dolly, dray, gig, gurney,
handcart, palanquin, pushcart,
tilbury, truck, tumbrel, two-wheeler,
wagon,
stop in there
there is this red wheelbarrow
and it looks like
a poem to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is Nothing To See
there is nothing
to see
from this window
a shovel
and a hoe
a farmer without a bolo
a puppy taking
a muddy shoe
a boy
sitting on a red wheelbarrow
a little girl
running naked without a tomorrow
so much
depends not on you
helpless cow
but on them the owners of the black dye
the builders
of the wonders of Dubai
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Picnic, Lightning
It is possible to be struck by a
meteor or a single-engine plane while
reading in a chair at home. Pedestrians
are flattened by safes falling from
rooftops mostly within the panels of
the comics, but still, we know it is
possible, as well as the flash of
summer lightning, the thermos toppling
over, spilling out on the grass.
And we know the message can be
delivered from within. The heart, no
valentine, decides to quit after
lunch, the power shut off like a
switch, or a tiny dark ship is
unmoored into the flow of the body's
rivers, the brain a monastery,
defenseless on the shore. This is
what I think about when I shovel
compost into a wheelbarrow, and when
I fill the long flower boxes, then
press into rows the limp roots of red
impatiens -- the instant hand of Death
always ready to burst forth from the
sleeve of his voluminous cloak. Then
the soil is full of marvels, bits of
leaf like flakes off a fresco,
red-brown pine needles, a beetle quick
to burrow back under the loam. Then
the wheelbarrow is a wilder blue, the
clouds a brighter white, and all I
hear is the rasp of the steel edge
against a round stone, the small
plants singing with lifted faces, and
the click of the sundial as one hour
sweeps into the next.
poem by Billy Collins
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21 New Poems
21 new poems of mine and,
21 new poems of love;
Deeply moved to impress you and,
To show you where true love lies!
And like the red wheelbarrow beside your red stew of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Non-Rose
Non-roses, yellow frills of breathing dew,
airy apparitions
flapping your stiffening petals like houris their dancing veils,
along the jagged thorns of a non-bush
I pluck you not.
And why not not?
There is much nought to pluck. Lots.
The blank book of life that shuts with a bang so full
of endless, dizzying doings,
of dynasties, stays obdurately open.
By your hand shield your eyes.
Don't stare. Ignore.
Bothersome muses of the void
before the collect
don't let your gaze
graze or take print
of this Veronica veil, the morning,
and to God
whose gifts aren't worth it
wheelbarrow them back.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Dance under the Brass Chandelier!
I see you dance alone with a smile
And I only look at the polished floor
As I know the vast gap between us
In the same music?
You're the younger Queen in the manor
And I am just the young ragged gardener!
Though I pour water to the flowers
I have no right to pluck them.
My unlocked Castle at the backyard
And we live in the same premises.
Sometimes in your sugary dreams
I may be your Hero but in reality
I am only the orphan boy
Who pushes the wheelbarrow
Full of fertilizer!
[I heard a lot of Gospel music when I was growing up, black and white gospel music, which is very Blues-infused in its musical vocabulary.]
-Guitarist Tim Sparks
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A poor Barber's Rabbit
I have only one carrot
And I feed you little portions.
Please do not get misunderstand me
I am going for an interview now
For a barber's position!
If I get a chance to hold the razor firmly
Definitely I cut all the carrots in Judas's illegal farm
And bring you a lorry load in his wheelbarrow!
*We all make mistakes, but everyone makes different mistakes.
-Ludwig van Beethoven
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A scapegoat's white hope
A sunstroke sunflower yawn in the whirlwind
and a scapegoat scamper with his old wheelbarrow
which is full of manure.
The Master of the field who walks behind his alsatian dog
and the nanny is washing the baby's nappies.
The Landlady in hysterics after the childbirth.
Bees are humming in the morning glory.
Whipping boy hear the rustling of the pale sunflower
and he poured more water & manure to get her closer.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Cataract eyed Gardener and a wild Rose
'My dear, you pour me water or tears as I feel the warmth it seems
And do not get upset please as I keep my word forever.'
Wild Rose said faithfully.
'I am a poor deserter Rose and how do we live together happily? '
Cowardice Gardener replied.
'That doesn't make any difference my darling
Your wheelbarrow is quite enough for our honeymoon and your humble straw-house really a castle for me.' Wild Rose pacified him kindly.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Jonathan Jo
Jonathan Jo
Has a mouth like an 'O'
And a wheelbarrow full of surprises;
If you ask for a bat,
Or for something like that,
He has got it, whatever the size is.
If you're wanting a ball,
It's no trouble at all;
Why, the more that you ask for, the merrier -
Like a hoop and a top,
And a watch that won't stop,
And some sweets, and an Aberdeen terrier.
Jonathan Jo
Has a mouth like an 'O,'
But this is what makes him so funny:
If you give him a smile,
Only once in a while,
Then he never expects any money!
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Infinite Wisdom...
'end of times, end of days,
only the strong will survive.
call it justice, the American way,
call it the great lie! ...'
we have made an incredible
mess of this world...
wars, greed, pollution,
poverty, enslavement,
human rights abuses,
hunger, sickness, homelessness...
that's on us!
you want me to believe...
that God, in his infinite wisdom,
is going to come and bail us out...
what if God, in his infinite wisdom,
showed up with a shovel,
and a wheelbarrow...
and said:
'you made this mess,
you clean it up! '
teaching the children
to take responsibility
for their actions...
hmmn...
just a thought!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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