Saturday, May 07, 2005

. . . . . .— 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.


Turquoise said...

*OH* I'm bathed in this poem's whimsey and lushness.

---Saint Patty who is green with envy

C. Dale said...

This poem is gorgeous! Have you published it?

Peter said...

C Dale: Glad you like it.
No, it's unpublished. I don't think I've even sent it out anywhere yet.

Anonymous said...

Very verde, Peter. Wonderful fun. KF