Thursday, December 11, 2008

Despair by Billy Collins

(Watch for the humorous kick at the end)


So much gloom and doubt in our poetry -
flowers wilting on the table,
the self regarding itself in a watery mirror.
Dead leaves cover the ground,
the wind moans in the chimney,
and the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin.
I wonder what the ancient Chinese poets
would make of all this,
thee shadows and empty cupboards?
Today, with the sun blazing in the trees,
my thoughts turn to the great
tenth-century celebrators of experience,
Wa-Hoo, whose delight in the smallest things
could hardly be restrained,
and to his joyous counterpart in the western provinces,
~ Billy Collins ~



Vinny "Bond" Marini said...

very cute...

Lew said...

to be followed by "hee-haw"?

Raven said...

Love the poem and the photo.

Unknown said...

Oh, my. That photo is fantastic. Did you take it?