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photo by Donald Kinney
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
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photo by Donald Kinney
And so it went--I was in the seventh-grade and my report on my "favorite poem" was due...
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photo by Donald Kinney
It took a bit of courage but I handed-in the report, knowing full well that I might be asked to read the poem--uncensored--to the class. Yes, the poem contains the words "breast" and "bosom", which had me in quite a tizzy.
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photo by Donald Kinney
But yes, I got an "A" on my report, and THANK GOD I wasn't called to read the poem. The teacher did, however, leave me a little note on my report informing me that Joyce Kilmer was not a woman as I had mentioned, but indeed, a man. I remember being just as flabbergasted as a seventh-grader can be. I assumed, going forward, that poetry could be dangerous territory.
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4 comments:
Stunning pics and a really poetic and lovley poem! Hugs from Luzia.
Poetry is dangerous territory.
Wow! Donald you've outdone yourself. I am all about those colours. Visiting you is always worthwhile.
Stunning delicate flowers in that last shot. that is a real keeper.
In fact they are all beautiful. You brought out the textures and the poetry of the Woods.
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