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
I don't see why you are envious. You have quite a talent, and I hope that you haven't stopped writing!
ReplyDeleteIsn't ENVY one of those 'SEVEN DEADLY SINS'? Just sayin'.
ReplyDeleteAnd 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.
ReplyDeleteOMG, the last line busted me up.
ReplyDeleteand and that poet and his man from Nantucket.
ReplyDeleteBut green eyes are so fascinating!
ReplyDeletedon't envy daffodils, their life is so short :)
ReplyDeleteWhat about Burroughs? I'm envious of his ruptured psyche and skitty little bugs...
ReplyDeleteGreat blog!
If it makes you feel any better, Wordsworth stole the idea from his sister Dorothy.
ReplyDeleteFun poem.
Gosh! You better get some squirrel grace.
ReplyDeleteMarvelous!! {{claps hand in delight!}}
ReplyDeleteI'm envious of ee cummings and his mud-luscious spring. Where the hell is it?
ReplyDeleteP.S. You have a knack for poetry.
Stunning photo and such literary wisdom! Love those F***ing daffodils.
ReplyDelete