Once again, I get to have someone else do my work for me. The Critical Reading in Poetry class at Aristotle University in Thessaloniki, Greece came up with their own images patterned after William Carlos Williams's famous poem about the white chickens and the red wheelbarrow. I merely arranged the images in an order that made sense to me. Efharisto, poli.
A Fleet of Red Wheelbarrows
So much depends
upon the smile
of your own child
raised with so much pain,
upon children’s
laugher making
their games brighter.
Upon a baby crying
for the first time
Or the weeping child
in front of an empty jar.
The soft and strong hands
that hold you when you
come into life.
The arms that hold you
late at night.
The tears on a mother’s
white cheeks
under a summer sky.
Her cakes smell sweetly
from the kitchen,
the old rusty stove
next to the carved
wooden crook.
So much depends upon
butterflies dancing
in a city’s noisy streets,
standing on a black rock,
or fluttering in the
Amazon rainforest
causing the love
touch of a hurricane
in Shanghai
from a girl’s
green eyes.
Pink lips
dancing gracefully
upon pale skin.
The wet smell of
nature after a storm.
“I love you”
in the middle of
a notsocoldanymore
night. A sweet “Good
morning” kissing
your forehead.
Two hands, bonded
together, going
nowhere because
nowhere else
matters.
So much depends
upon the buzzing
of bees in the vastness
of nature’s valley.
The hummingbird
suddenly silenced by
the sound of a truck
but the tree full
of birds and harmony.
An eagle fights against
the mountain’s wind
to find the silver pearl
in the ocean’s depth.
Red, red kiss
with tightly closed
eyes. Red, red
roses in front
of an old stone house.
A crack letting in a
tiny sunray,
the wind whistling
through an open door.
Our kisses can be heard
in the air, mint and cloves-
sparkling!
So much depends
upon
a red silken scarf
scented with those roses.
A glass of cold lemon
juice while sitting
on the terrace,
or a delicious cake
next to a cup of coffee.
A crimson candle,
aromatic with mystery.
The touch of his lips
on her bare body.
Passionate kisses
smooth and harsh,
bitter and sweet.
Red sweet wine
next to an empty
bottle, broken
but still standing.
How much you
love some people
and how much
you’re going to miss
them.
So much depends
upon
the stinky T-shirt
you left on the bed.
The one way ticket
to Never-Again.
The deafening silence
of an echo – a bitter
sweet good-bye.
A grim, black
heavy curtain;
a withered flower
in a dusty book;
a rainbow in
a glass of
waste water.
How high could
a cherry tree grow
if it’s never cut down?
You’ll never know.
An old clock ticks
on a half-demolished wall.
A magical piano sound
lets you forget,
allows you to heal.
White next to black.
Red next to yellow.
We’ve all been
there.
The moon mirrors itself
in turbulent seas.
I owe my life to nature,
but the living is up
to me.
A Fleet of Red Wheelbarrows
So much depends
upon the smile
of your own child
raised with so much pain,
upon children’s
laugher making
their games brighter.
Upon a baby crying
for the first time
Or the weeping child
in front of an empty jar.
The soft and strong hands
that hold you when you
come into life.
The arms that hold you
late at night.
The tears on a mother’s
white cheeks
under a summer sky.
Her cakes smell sweetly
from the kitchen,
the old rusty stove
next to the carved
wooden crook.
So much depends upon
butterflies dancing
in a city’s noisy streets,
standing on a black rock,
or fluttering in the
Amazon rainforest
causing the love
touch of a hurricane
in Shanghai
from a girl’s
green eyes.
Pink lips
dancing gracefully
upon pale skin.
The wet smell of
nature after a storm.
“I love you”
in the middle of
a notsocoldanymore
night. A sweet “Good
morning” kissing
your forehead.
Two hands, bonded
together, going
nowhere because
nowhere else
matters.
So much depends
upon the buzzing
of bees in the vastness
of nature’s valley.
The hummingbird
suddenly silenced by
the sound of a truck
but the tree full
of birds and harmony.
An eagle fights against
the mountain’s wind
to find the silver pearl
in the ocean’s depth.
Red, red kiss
with tightly closed
eyes. Red, red
roses in front
of an old stone house.
A crack letting in a
tiny sunray,
the wind whistling
through an open door.
Our kisses can be heard
in the air, mint and cloves-
sparkling!
So much depends
upon
a red silken scarf
scented with those roses.
A glass of cold lemon
juice while sitting
on the terrace,
or a delicious cake
next to a cup of coffee.
A crimson candle,
aromatic with mystery.
The touch of his lips
on her bare body.
Passionate kisses
smooth and harsh,
bitter and sweet.
Red sweet wine
next to an empty
bottle, broken
but still standing.
How much you
love some people
and how much
you’re going to miss
them.
So much depends
upon
the stinky T-shirt
you left on the bed.
The one way ticket
to Never-Again.
The deafening silence
of an echo – a bitter
sweet good-bye.
A grim, black
heavy curtain;
a withered flower
in a dusty book;
a rainbow in
a glass of
waste water.
How high could
a cherry tree grow
if it’s never cut down?
You’ll never know.
An old clock ticks
on a half-demolished wall.
A magical piano sound
lets you forget,
allows you to heal.
White next to black.
Red next to yellow.
We’ve all been
there.
The moon mirrors itself
in turbulent seas.
I owe my life to nature,
but the living is up
to me.
