Theodore the Poet


<<< Zenas Witt
The Town Marshal >>>
Home

This poem was included in the original 1915 edition.

As a boy, Theodore, you sat for long hours
On the shore of the turbid Spoon
With deep-set eye staring at the door of the crawfish's burrow,
Waiting for him to appear, pushing ahead,
First his waving antennae, like straws of hay,
And soon his body, colored like soap-stone,
Gemmed with eyes of jet.
And you wondered in a trance of thought
What he knew, what he desired, and why he lived at all.
But later your vision watched for men and women
Hiding in burrows of fate amid great cities,
Looking for the souls of them to come out,
So that you could see
How they lived, and for what,
And why they kept crawling so busily
Along the sandy way where water fails
As the summer wanes.
 

Comments


There are currently no comments for this epitaph. Be the first to add a comment!

 
 

We reserve the right to remove off-topic, inappropriate or markedly offensive comments. Although your e-mail address is required in case we need to contact you about your comment, we will not make your e-mail address visible to the public, share it with third parties, or use it to send unsolicited messages.

 

Search Spoon River


Talks about



 

Talked about by



 

Prominent Words


antennae (in 2 documents)
soap (in 2 documents)
straw (in 2 documents)
push (in 3 documents)
shore (in 3 documents)
Stared (in 5 documents)
color (in 6 documents)
desire (in 6 documents)
soon (in 6 documents)
appear (in 7 documents)
Poet (in 7 documents)
crawl (in 8 documents)
deep (in 8 documents)
kept (in 8 documents)
later (in 8 documents)
summer (in 8 documents)
wait (in 8 documents)
This site is a service of Honeylocust Media Systems; contact with questions and comments.