I'm envious of W.B. Yeats
and his damn rough beast slouching towards Bethlehem.
I'm envious of T.S. Eliot
and his bloody singing mermaids.
I'm envious of Wallace Stevens
and his goddamn thirteen blackbirds.
Hell, I'm even envious of William Wordsworth
and his host of fucking daffodils.
© Debra She Who Seeks 2006
13 comments:
I don't see why you are envious. You have quite a talent, and I hope that you haven't stopped writing!
Isn't ENVY one of those 'SEVEN DEADLY SINS'? Just sayin'.
And they may be envious of you, from the afterlife...you offer so much Debra from your heart and spirit and while I'm not envious of you, I am grateful for all that you give.
OMG, the last line busted me up.
and and that poet and his man from Nantucket.
But green eyes are so fascinating!
don't envy daffodils, their life is so short :)
What about Burroughs? I'm envious of his ruptured psyche and skitty little bugs...
Great blog!
If it makes you feel any better, Wordsworth stole the idea from his sister Dorothy.
Fun poem.
Gosh! You better get some squirrel grace.
Marvelous!! {{claps hand in delight!}}
I'm envious of ee cummings and his mud-luscious spring. Where the hell is it?
P.S. You have a knack for poetry.
Stunning photo and such literary wisdom! Love those F***ing daffodils.
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