Back in January I read this thoughtful piece on the poet Anne Sexton and it stirred up long forgotten college memories. I'll go out on a limb here and tell you I wasn't a stellar student, and I really wasn't much interested in my literature class. I really REALLY did not like the woman professor teaching my literature class. Maybe it was that I couldn't charm her in the way I could the art teacher or the botany teacher. Maybe because she called me an ‘elitist smart ass’ and I did not know if she meant that as a noun or an adjective. She should have failed me for the final paper I turned in on this poet and this poem, the red wheelbarrow. I did not fail the class and I know why.......because she did not want me back.in.her.class.again...................ever.
THE RED WHEELBARROW
3 comments:
That's actually one of my favorite poems, holding a spot in an anthology book I had to make for a project in poetry class.
WCW also wrote another one of my faves - one about how he ate the plums in the icebox. That poem was massively encouraging to me, because it made me think "Hey, if THAT'S a poem, then I have written all sorts of great things! I must be a fantastic writer!"
But I'm weird like that. There's another W for you!
Madame X, please keep posting!
PB, you ARE a fantastic writer! and there is another W!
Hello Kitty, I've been keeping up with you (even though I wasn't posting for awhile...) thanks for stopping in:)
Post a Comment