poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

To me, the thing that “depends” on the Red Wheelbarrow is writing itself. The poem qua poem is simply a bunch of words, a group of symbols on a page. But these symbols (1) create a strong image that we all can see in our minds (and that at the same time probably all see a little differently) and (2) these images can be INTERPRETTED, can be looked at from different angles, can be examined and argued about, as everyone on this page has done. To me, this poem really gets to the heart of poetry itself -- it’s about cadence, word choice, sequence of the words (what a great opening line!), imagery, interpretation, and QUESTIONS that go on and on and on. And it’s about how humans construct meaning, interpret symbols, how we all view art through the lense of our own preconceptions and prior experiences and ways of thinking. But without the red wheelbarrow, none of this would be possible. We would only have a blank page. That’s why so much depends on the red wheelbarrow.

What depends on that red wheelbarrow?

The poem.

I think this poem is trying to say, every little thing has something important to do.

I loved this poem from the time I took a course in imagist poetry at the University of Michigan.

I am an artist. I think in pictures and bright, vivid colors. Pictures are connected, for me, to subconscious emotions.

Today I felt stressed and worried, specifically about not having time to help a friend who is sick and needs it.

Tonight the picture of the red wheelbarrow, the rain glazing it, and the white chickens popped into my head for the first time in, probably, ten years. The poem came to my mind fully formed. The words came whole.

I cannot yet understand the reason the poem came, but it was connected to my worry, and the reason for my worry: No time to help a friend who needs it. (I finally found the time, and feel very good about that.)

In days to come, I will realize the reason. Right now, it feels good to be depended up, as if I were the wheelbarrow. Red is my favorite color.

The brilliance of the clear images, in my stress, were very relaxing to my mind. They created a kind of certainty and stability, soothing my feelings of confusion, instability, and uncertainty.

The clarity of the wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater in a farmyard of some sort with white chickens pecking around is very midwestern. I am from the midwest where there are lots of farms and rain, and the ground never shakes in earthquakes as it does in California where I live now.

I love this poem. The images were there for me exactly when I needed them.

Aren't they beautiful!

This poem is not, at all, 'oblique' in a meaningful way. It is A JOKE. I am sick of pretentious posers who know NOTHING about poetry trying to use this little piece of nothing as a crutch by which to prop up their pseudointellectual egoes. Stop it! Read a real poem and have an original opinion, ok!

In a more literal view, we can infer that it has just rained from the phrase, "glazed with rain" and conclude that there must be worms that came out of the earth, because worms come out of the earth after a rain. The chickens would be there to eat the worms.

I'm struggling to express what this poem makes me think.Last day, Mrs Uçele wanted us to write down whatever we feel when reading this poem.It's our intro into Text Analysis lesson...I have contemplating on it and last night I saw it in my dream...So much depends upon...

You need to understand what surrounded the writing of this poem to understand it. Williams sat by a window through the night waiting to see if a sick child's fever would go away. The words from the poem come from him looking out the window and thinking about how important it was that the child fever broke that morning. The child's life depended upon that morning and everything out that window.

The whole idea behind playing selective, aggressive poker is to get yourself into a situation where you have an excellent chance of winning. When you get there, why do so many of free poker table you suddenly decide you have to cleverly slow-play, or smooth call, or some other play in which you fail to maximize the edge you so patiently waited to create? They might all fold, you say. Yes, and they might not.