Variations on a theme from Williams Carlos Williams

by Tex Norman⁽¹²⁾

It is my opinion that if I am to be a serious writer, I must write.  Sounds simple does it not?  All I need to do to be a writer is to write.  All I need to do to be a poet is write poetry.  The problem arises when you don’t feel like writing, or don’t know what to write, and yet you feel complained to write because you want so badly to be a writer and especially a poet.

 

For me, when I don’t feel like writing, I invent little prompts to force myself to write.  One of those prompting inventions is to imitate.  Recently I have opted to imitate William Carlos Williams and his famous poem about eating the prunes his wife left in the icebox.

 

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.

   ~By William Carlos Williams

I note that the speaker of the Williams poem does not apologize, but he does ask forgiveness.  Ask is the wrong word.  The speaker of the poem demands.  It is not ‘please forgive me, I’m so very sorry,’ it is a command, ‘FORGIVE ME!’

 

I urge you to try your hand at this imitation and to share it here.  Here are some of my efforts.

 

1.

 

This is just to say

that I have consumed the hope

you might have enjoyed

had I never sought your love.

 

Forgive me.  I am sure you

were saving yourself

for some life of happiness

and ease, but you were so

 

beautiful and sweet

and I, so in need

of some beauty

in my life.

 

2.

This is just to say I have eaten

the last slice of whole wheat

and left nothing for you

to eat for your breakfast.

 

Forgive me.  I was hungry

and that lonely slice of whole wheat

was resting in its plastic sleeve

and the toaster was bored

 

and wanting to do something.

I was weak, and selfish,

and you were still asleep

so I didn’t want to wake you

 

to ask if you would mind.

What I actually consumed

was guilt and shame.

There is oat mean in the cupboard.       

 

3.

This is just to say I turned my

hopes into bread crumbs

and my dreams into pigeons.

My dreams have consumed

my hopes and left behind

the excrement of reality

and it has been dropped

on the windshield of your car.

Forgive me.  I know you want

 

to look through that thing

that shields you as you seek

to find your way forward

in your life and now all you see

 

is the crap of my unsuccessful

efforts to hit the mark,

to be worthy, to provide you

with the me I might’ve been.

 

4.

 

This is just to say

I have manipulated and

Cajoled you to get what I

Wanted, to do what I wanted

 

Us to do, to go where I

Wanted us to go.  Forgive me.

I really didn’t realize

What a selfish bastard

 

I could be, but I was so

Driven by my wants

and you were so sweet

and willing to please me.

 

5.  

 

This is just to say

I have broken the Blue Willow

platter, the one you were given

by your mother, the one your

mother’s mother got from her

 

mother, the one your great-great

grandmother hand carried to

America when she left England,

packed in a little wooden box

padded with British hay.

 

Forgive me.  I went to Macy’s

and bought you a Fiesta platter

which is bigger, and bluer, and

this one is dishwasher safe.

 

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Article submitted Saturday, May 23, 2009 & read 223 times.

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