Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped in the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft.
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Forever Ya by Miraj Patel
- The Rum Tum Tugger by T. S. Eliot
- Владимир Высоцкий – Мартовский Заяц
- Darest Thou Now, O Soul. by Walt Whitman
- Gwaïn Down The Steps Vor Water by William Barnes
- The Basket poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- The Soldiers Grave
- Summer by Luther Seahand
- Not quite dark yet by Yosa Buson
- A Good Boy by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend by William Shakespeare
- Олег Григорьев – Совершенно откровенно
- Literary Cubism – A Non-Structured Structure For Twenty-first Century Storytelling
- Владимир Маяковский – Земля наша обильна
- Ирина Гурина – Как пчёлы чуть не поссорились
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).
Philip Arthur Larkin (1922-1985), Commander of the Order of the British Empire, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, Cavalier of the Order of the Companions of Honour, was an English poet, novelist, and librarian.