Nothing Stays Put Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDEFGHIJKHL HMNOPHOKLHHH HHQRHSHTKOHH HKUVSSOWK

In memory of Father FlyeA
-
-
The strange and wonderful are too much with usB
The protea of the antipodes a greatC
globed blazing honeybee of a bloomD
for sale in the supermarket We are inE
our decadence we are not entitledF
What have we done to deserveG
all the produce of the tropicsH
this fiery trove the largesse of itI
heaped up like cannonballs these pineapples bossedJ
and crested standing like troops at attentionK
these tiers these balconies of green festoonsH
grown sumptuous with stoop laborL
-
The exotic is everywhere it comes to usH
before there is a yen or a need for it The greenM
grocers uptown and down are from South KoreaN
Orchids opulence by the pailful just slightlyO
fatigued by the plane trip from Hawaii areP
disposed on the sidewalks alstroemerias freesiasH
fattened a bit in translation from overseas gladioliO
likewise estranged from their piercing ancestral crimsonK
as well as less altered from the original blue cornflowerL
of the roadsides and railway embankments of Europe theseH
bachelor's buttons But it isn't the railway embankmentsH
their featherweight wheels of cobalt remind me of it'sH
-
a row of them among prim colonnades of cosmosH
snapdragon nasturtium bloodsilk red poppiesH
in my grandmother's garden a prairie childhoodQ
the grassland shorn overlaid with a gridR
unsealed furrowed harrowed and sown with immigrant grassesH
their massive corduroy their wavering feltings embroideredS
here and there by the scarlet shoulder patch of cannasH
on a courthouse lawn by a love knot a cross stitchT
of living matter sown and tended by womenK
nurturers everywhere of the strange and wonderfulO
beneath whose hands what had been alien beginsH
as it alters to grow as though it were indigenousH
-
But at this remove what I think of asH
strange and wonderful strolling the side streets of ManhattanK
on an April afternoon seeing hybrid pear trees in blossomU
a tossing vertiginous colonnade of foam up aboveV
is the white petalfall the warm snowdriftS
of the indigenous wild plum of my childhoodS
Nothing stays put The world is a wheelO
All that we know that we'reW
made of is motionK

Amy Clampitt



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