Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”



It is now 1975-76, my senior year in seminary at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School.  There is not much more that is worth saying about the poignantly brief Midwestern Autumns in prose.  But maybe by adding a theological pun and some spiritual allegory to our continuing observation of Nature, we can find something new to say in verse.



Sonnet XIX


The leaves so choked the pool, they made a floor

You’d almost think a man could walk across.

And if they weren’t enough, the wind drove more

In right on top of them, until the moss

Was all that was left clinging to the trees.

A few short months the proud green host had stood

On high.  Now, at the mercy of the breeze,

They were shaken down and scattered through the wood,

Unable to find another resting place

Until the were caught by the stagnant ponds

Which stood around the sun-forsaken waste

Enticing the outcasts to embrace new bonds.

And one could wish the leaves would tell which curse,

Autonomy or slavery, is the worse.


Remember: for more poetry like this, go to and order Stars Through the Clouds!  Also look for Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest book from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.

Donald T. Williams, PhD


About gandalf30598

Theologian, philosopher, poet, and critic; minister of the Gospel who makes his living by teaching medieval and renaissance literature; dual citizen of Narnia and Middle Earth.

Posted on March 26, 2012, in Donald Williams, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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