Hello, Poetry Friend
There’s a long tradition of list poems. They feel anchoring — item by item, line by line. My favorite list ever comes in the final chapter of Charlotte’s Web, “A Warm Wind.” It’s in the penultimate paragraph, right before the declaration that Charlotte was both a true friend and a good writer.
It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything.
And I thought to myself, Mr. E.B. White wrote himself a list poem.
Watch this:
It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything. –E.B. White
Voila! List poem.
As I learned it by heart, I pictured the words in voiceover, as a camera lens panned the barnyard. First, the cellar. Then, those geese, who cheer like nobody’s business. Back up to an existential thought on seasons. Which season? One with a hot sun. Look up — swallows, passing. Rats, always near. Sheep, always same. Spiders, always loving. Manure, always smelling. All of it — yes, even the manure — the glory of everything.
A lesser poet would not have this conglomeration of nice things and less-nice things as part of the glory. They might have had all pretty things or all rotten things. White gives us everything. That’s where the glory is.
Poetry Journal
Do you have a favorite list poem? Please share in the comments!
Can you think of a list in a novel or a piece of nonfiction that would, with a few line breaks, work as a poem? Again, please share!
I first wrote this poem as prose, and it was about 1,000 words. When I turned it into a poem, it slimmed all the way down to about 100.
Write your own list poem. I’m always happy to listen. Mine is below, inspired by Charlotte (as all good things are).
Spider Whisperer
When we saw the spider
sitting above the doorframe
I thought it was harmless
but you knew it had to be harmfull
because it was a spider
only I knew better
because I’ve known lots of spiders
and this one looked like Charlotte
so I got the broom
eased it to the floor
coaxed it down the hall, whispered,
this way baby
c’mon, baby
almost there
until the dazed spider
crossed the threshold
into dark dirt and later
when I looked it up
it was venomous after all.
–Megan Willome
Happy poeming!
Megan
Oh.... What a gathering of thoughts and reflections on Charlotte and her web. Your spider chronicle poem offered me much in the way of images, especially the broom.