The fragility of the flower
unbruised
penetrates space.
William Carlos Williams
Sonnet in Search of an Author by William Carlos Williams
Nude bodies like peeled logs
sometimes give off the sweetest
odor, man and woman
under the trees in full excess
matching the cushion of
aromatic pine-drift fallen
threaded with trailing woodbine
a sonnet might be made of it
Might be made of it! odor of excess
odor of pine needles, odor of
peeled logs, odor of no odor
other than trailing woodbine that
has no odor, odor of nude woman
sometimes, odor of man.
The Chrysanthemum by William Carlos Williams
how shall we tell
the bright petals
from the sun in the
sky concentrically
crowding the branch
save that it yields
in its modesty
to that splendor?
Iris by William Carlos Williams
a burst of iris so that
come down for
breakfast
we searched through the
rooms for
that
sweetest odor and at
first could not
find its
source then a blue as
of the sea
struck
startling us from among
those trumpeting
petals
Poem by William Carlos Williams
The rose fades
and is renewed again
by its seed, naturally
but where
save in the poem
shall it go
to suffer no diminution
of its splendor
The Banner Bearer by William Carlos Williams
In the rain, the lonesome
dog idiosyn-
cratically, with each
quadribeat, throws
out the left fore-
foot beyond
the right intent, in
his stride,
on some obscure
insistence–from bridge-
ward going
into new territory.
poem by William Carlos Williams
As the cat
climbed over
the top of
the jamcloset
first the right
forefoot
carefully
then the hind
stepped down
into the pit of
the empty
flowerpot
The Widow’s Lament in Springtime by William Carlos Williams
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.
This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Leonard Durso 