We have done what we wanted.
We have discarded dreams, preferring the heavy industry
of each other, and we have welcomed grief
and called ruin the impossible habit to break.
And now we are here.
The dinner is ready and we cannot eat.
The meat sits in the white lake of its dish.
The wine waits.
Coming to this
has its rewards: nothing is promised, nothing is taken away.
We have no heart or saving grace,
no place to go, no reason to remain.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Remorseful Apology by Robert Burns
- The Railroad by William Barnes
- Inscription to Jessie Lewars by Robert Burns
- Solitude poem – Alexander Pope
- Spanish Johnny by Willa Sibert Cather
- The Arrival Of The Bee Box by Sylvia Plath
- The Breeze at Dawn by Jelaluddin Rumi
- “And Is It Among Rude Untutored Dales” by William Wordsworth
- Федор Сологуб – Собака седого короля
- Violet Beauregarde… by Roald Dahl
- Ione, Dead the Long Year poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Robert Burns: Wilt Thou Be My Dearie?:
- Where’s the Poet? poem – John Keats poems
- Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2. by William Cowper
- Nicholas Nye by Walter de la Mare
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
