Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Vol. CLIV, Issue 4
Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

    Autumn days at Whitman: A compilation of poems by Emma Wood

    I just remembered something I did in grade school that convinces me that we grown-up college students aren’t too different from our 11-year-old selves. When I was a sixth grader, I decided to hold a poetry contest for Valentine’s Day. Kids from the whole school submitted poems on little scraps of wide-ruled paper. These poems are from autumns spent at Whitman. I’d like to hear your fall poems too, please.

    E-mail [email protected].

    Patter the rain
    patinas leaf pretties
    so firebird red of yesterday
    like copper grown weary, fresh fall speckled brown
    mud rust, on gold sidewalks rest footsteps brown spatter

    **

    a sudden jolt
    and past me whisked a neon meteor of fate
    cyclist’s gait
    counterpoint click-clicking chainlink
    a thunderbolt of lightning pace
    by moment’s space
    forward careening past my present

    **

    a dog to walk is just an excuse
    for strolling round the streets at night
    eyeing neighbors’ habitats and gliding past the windowlights

    **

    I think umbrellas are silly. for what’s the use,
    really, in shying from stormcloud
    when the world is wet?
    why not succumb
    as the soil has done~
    powder relinquished to mud?

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