Tiny Poems

December 29, 2008

I’m just back from a lovely Christmas break in Hong Kong at my Dad’s, where much bonding was had and much French was spoken (le sigh). As I am absolutely knackered, I thought printing here tiny poems that I love would be appropriate. I’ve been making R. learn about English-language literature, as these topics somehow tend not to come up in engineering classes, and I though these would be appropriate for the amount of time at his disposal.

First, my favourite. “Fog” by Carl Sandburg. I have early memories of this poem, and used to draw little pictures of a sea of kitties, all engaged in conveying the fog to its proper place.

THE fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches 5
and then moves on.

Then, evoking a similar but entirely disassociated mood, “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams. (I love the failed WASP-iness of his name.)

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

And that is that. It is late, I have successfully beaten my jet lag. I watched The Holiday while trying to say up. It was, as predicted, mediocre, and I was kind of annoyed that Kate Winslet and Jack Black are considered to be in similar leagues, looks-wise. Regardless, watching it frees up a Netflix spot.

I leave you with the song I’m listening to before bed.

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One Response to “Tiny Poems”

  1. jackiesoybean said

    Ms. Giuliani read us the W.C.W. poem in 10th Grade. Thank you for conjuring up that memory. She was the cutest, quirkiest English teacher – very 90’s. She wore her hair in a jet black, trapezoid bob, (with matching green felt trapezoid skirt over brown opaque tights and flat chinese slippers) and kept playing with her bangs which appeared to take on a life of their own, like reeds in a storm playing freeze tag or something.
    Assignments included writing short stories based on advertisements on the backs of old national geographic magazines; creating our own dream schools; or adapting a Canterbury tale into a modern skit. She exposed me to Shakespeare and made each cell in our adolescent bodies squirm, giggle and blush. How cheeky of Cleopatra to take Antony’s sword/ penis and emasculate him so! Oh, the red wheel, barrow.

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