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.”

As I said, any excuse will do for a pun.  This time you have to wait for it to the last line.





Red: flash of cardinal, barely seen;

Red: leaves of Maple, flecked with flame;

Red: Dogwood berries (leaves still green);

Red: other leaves without a name.

Red:  mountain apples, cheap to buy;

Red: candy apples at the fair;

Red: clouds across the evening sky;

Red: children’s cheeks in frosty air.


Red: Sumac’s many-fingered hand;

Red:  as always, by the road, the clay;

Red: flannel pajamas, sooner than planned;

Red: flames on hearth at close of day.

Red: different shades and hues, but all

Read: glory of a Georgia fall.


Remember: for more poetry like this, go to and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books 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 August 17, 2015, in Donald Williams, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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