Tom Simard

Poetry, Music, and Prose

Archive for the tag “old”

Book 24

“But he found his father, alone, on a well-banked plot,
Spading a plant. He had on an old, dirty shirt,
Mended and patched, and leather leggings
Pieced together as protection from scratches.
He wore gloves because of the bushes, and on his head
He had a goatskin cap, crowning his sorrow.
Odysseus, who had borne much, saw him like this,
Worn with age and a grieving heart,
And wept as he watched from a pear tree’s shade.”
24.233-241

Origins

Origins
The hides
piled high
in the rickety
old carts
that moved along
the dusty trails.

All across
the plains
that stretched
so vast
the bodies lay
to rot.

Our Mid-Month’s Poet: William Carlos Williams

Epitaph by William Carlos Williams
An old willow with hollow branches
slowly swayed his few high bright tendrils
and sang:

Love is a young green willow
shimmering at the bare wood’s edge.

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