This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

by William Carlos Williams

Comments (17)

Plump, and Plump, and Waiting for Digestion Inhaled, and with glee Exhaled... The remnants Leaving an after taste (...and held onto less forgotten After time the chaser Leaves marks the throat forgets) Like a wheel barrow, red Frozen with linger the ploy The mind provides as if Death knew what to do anyway What do you notice, She asked He looked away and said Nothing Thinking Plump, and C Trevor Andres
The beauty of honesty is best stated directly and simply, thus at the heart truth is poetry, in it's own right. The message here is not regret, rather a confession to and for love.
I came to sit And ponder deeply the life of which I lived so sleeply alone at last some time to share a drift at peace with others fair Tomorrows world so proud and loud can lift you up onto the clouds -poems are hard
This write cannot be called a poem. It is not even a piece of literature but only a random, very common thought.
I've read and heard this poem before. I'm not fond of this poem, because it always leaves me feeling like, And? I love simple verse - love it - but this one consistently renders me chilled and emptied, like the inside of the icebox.
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