Members Who Read Most Number Of Poems

Live Scores

Click here to see the rest of the list

(January 5, 1926 – January 13, 2009 / Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania)

Previous Month January 2014 Next Month
Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
30 31 1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30 31 1 2
Modern Poem of The Day
Select a day from the calendar.
Would you like to see the poem of the day in your e-mail box every morning?
Your email address:
  Subscribe FREE
  Unsubscribe
What do you think this poem is about?

For Example: love, art, fashion, friendship and etc.

April Inventory

The green catalpa tree has turned
All white; the cherry blooms once more.
In one whole year I haven't learned
A blessed thing they pay you for.
The blossoms snow down in my hair;
The trees and I will soon be bare.

The trees have more than I to spare.
The sleek, expensive girls I teach,
Younger and pinker every year,
Bloom gradually out of reach.
The pear tree lets its petals drop
Like dandruff on a tabletop.

The girls have grown so young by now
I have to nudge myself to stare.
This year they smile and mind me how
My teeth are falling with my hair.
In thirty years I may not get
Younger, shrewder, or out of debt.

The tenth time, just a year ago,
I made myself a little list
Of all the things I'd ought to know,
Then told my parents, analyst,
And everyone who's trusted me
I'd be substantial, presently.

I haven't read one book about
A book or memorized one plot.
Or found a mind I did not doubt.
I learned one date.And then forgot.
And one by one the solid scholars
Get the degrees, the jobs, the dollars.

And smile above their starchy collars.
I taught my classes Whitehead's notions;
One lovely girl, a song of Mahler's.
Lacking a source-book or promotions,
I showed one child the colors of
A luna moth and how to love.

I taught myself to name my name,
To bark back, loosen love and crying;
To ease my woman so she came,
To ease an old man who was dying.
I have not learned how often I
Can win, can love, but choose to die.

I have not learned there is a lie
Love shall be blonder, slimmer, younger;
That my equivocating eye
Loves only by my body's hunger;
That I have forces true to feel,
Or that the lovely world is real.

While scholars speak authority
And wear their ulcers on their sleeves,
My eyes in spectacles shall see
These trees procure and spend their leaves.
There is a value underneath
The gold and silver in my teeth.

Though trees turn bare and girls turn wives,
We shall afford our costly seasons;
There is a gentleness survives
That will outspeak and has its reasons.
There is a loveliness exists,
Preserves us, not for specialists.

Submitted: Monday, January 20, 2003


Read poems about / on: tree, hair, smile, april, girl, silver, snow, woman, child, song, green, love, children, women

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Poet Ridiculed by Hysterical Academics by William De Witt Snodgrass )

Enter the verification code :

  • * Sunprincess * (1/31/2014 4:08:00 AM)

    .....april is a beautiful month...

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Kami Bleu (11/13/2007 3:37:00 AM)

    should be dedicated to ts eliot as its basically a loose copy of 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' with its title borrowed from the wasteland-not impressed

  • Mo. (6/6/2007 1:32:00 PM)

    I saw you on the cover of 'poetry.com'
    ''Good to know you''

  • Michael Shepherd (3/18/2005 6:32:00 AM)

    Isn't this one of the most enchanting poems, from a lovely mind?

Read all 4 comments »
[Hata Bildir]