by Ai
We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don’t tell me, I say. I don’t want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you barely notice it,
your fingers graze that dress
and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper,
you see it too
and you realize how that image
is simply the extension of another image,
that your own life
is a chain of words
that one day will snap.
Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that’s where I’m floating,
and that’s what it’s like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: Kirk and State Excisemen:
- Spanish Johnny by Willa Sibert Cather
- Private Property poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster
- From The Long Sad Party by Mark Strand
- A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King in the Presence at White-Hall by Robert Herrick
- Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now by William Shakespeare
- The Strange Lady by William Cullen Bryant
- The Change
- Владимир Бенедиктов – Роза и дева
- Ольга Берггольц – Знаю, чем меня пленила
- Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty.
- “‘Tis because, though in dusky bower” poem – Alfred Austin
- Postures by Martina Reisz Newberry
- Robert Burns: Divine Service In The Kirk Of Lamington:
- Tyburn by Ramesh Anand
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- The Reformers by Rudyard Kipling
- The Recall by Rudyard Kipling
- The Rabbi’s Song by Rudyard Kipling
- The Quesion by Rudyard Kipling
- The Queen’s Men by Rudyard Kipling
- The Puzzler by Rudyard Kipling
- The Prodigal Son by Rudyard Kipling
- The Pro-Consuls by Rudyard Kipling
- The Prayer of Miriam Cohen by Rudyard Kipling
- The Law of the Jungle by Rudyard Kipling
- The Last Rhyme of True Thomas by Rudyard Kipling
- The Last of the Light Brigade by Rudyard Kipling
- The Last Department by Rudyard Kipling
- The Land by Rudyard Kipling
- The Lament of the Border Cattle Thief by Rudyard Kipling
- The Ladies by Rudyard Kipling
- The Kingdom by Rudyard Kipling
- The Jester by Rudyard Kipling
- The Jacket by Rudyard Kipling
- THE IRISH GUARDS by Rudyard Kipling
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
