Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PORTRAIT BY PICHER, by FRANCES BAKER First Line: There are not many leaves Last Line: Bend wearily above the earth. Subject(s): Family Life; Relatives | ||||||||
There are not many leaves. There was no time for trees When Picher was born. But now there are small trees That make a little shade. The children play in the dust The mellow, hot, hot dust Along the broken sidewalks. The houses squat low on the ground. The houses stare, and hug a tailing pile. The children run up and down And over and across -- (And -- occasionally -- one is drowned in the mill ponds left unguarded); The husbands come wearily home With an empty battered dinner bucket In one hand And a powder box in the other. When the sun stares around a rock pile Across the pond -- They come wearily home in the evening. The children run barefoot to meet them; The fathers are as tall as the trees And they as the trees Bend wearily above the earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY AUNT ELLA MAE by MICHAEL S. HARPER THE GOLDEN SHOVEL by TERRANCE HAYES LIZARDS AND SNAKES by ANTHONY HECHT THE BOOK OF A THOUSAND EYES: I LOVE by LYN HEJINIAN CHILD ON THE MARSH by ANDREW HUDGINS MY MOTHER'S HANDS by ANDREW HUDGINS PLAYING DEAD by ANDREW HUDGINS THE GLASS HAMMER by ANDREW HUDGINS INSECT LIFE OF FLORIDA by LYNDA HULL SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 114 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |
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