Green
. . . . . .— Verde que te quiero verde.
. . . . . . .Federico García Lorca
Does a greenskeeper have a greenbelt,
a green thumb in his green jeans?
Does he have a green-eyed green heart,
a green horn on his green head?
Does his greenhouse have a green room
growing green stuff for the greengrocer?
Are salad days for greenlings saving greenbacks,
a choir of green men singing “Greensleeves?”
Green paper, green card, greenmail, green light.
Green tea, green soap, green pepper, green corn.
You can be green from knowing too much,
not enough, nothing at all. You can be green
with envy, or worse — gangrene
from a green arm’s greenstick fracture.
Greening greener, greenest greenish.
Greenwood, greenstone, greenwing, greensward.
It’s all green, green, green, green.
Greener than the other side’s greener grass.
Greener than greenest of greeny pastures.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
This poem is gorgeous! Have you published it?
C Dale: Glad you like it.
No, it's unpublished. I don't think I've even sent it out anywhere yet.
Very verde, Peter. Wonderful fun. KF
Post a Comment