Paris, Beirut
the bottle of night broke
what to do
what answer to give
is loss what the city will be for
Poems on the topic: loss
Poems on the topic “loss” on Poets.by.
Appearance
mind troubled
for my key that I lost—
the first pear
Miscarriage
miscarriage—
a life-like lack of heart
in the court
End Times
i am not ready for
a light-filled forest
still half aflame
i struggle to recognize it
with thinning hair
comes the chill of loss
i finger a nickel
that slaveowner’s face
riding in my pocket
like i’m lewis and clark
under red and scarlet oaks
the music of falling acorns
tick-tocking but only
at random moments
i clock in at several
caught breaths an hour
Book lovers
this intimacy
is with books
I read to her
and she to me
she gone
I read to myself in bed
reading a poem
I brought home with me
last night
from the war
Pandora
Pandora was a doll with a plastic head
& a boneless fabric body full of give.
Her eyes were a smiling blue
you scraped with a thumbnail one day
to see what lay beneath: blank plastic.
Pandora was a doll with plastic arms
that could be bent into the semblance
of a hug. From a high perch
she watched the bears multiply
on the bed, expert listeners,
burly avatars of comfort. When
the circus master’s mad wife
came to give them all away
to charity, Pandora alone
with her hopeless eye was spared.
You wept until you couldn’t see
Colorless nights
Sleeping along side with you felt like a continuous dream,
Their voice mellow and croaky as well as tired
Your accent would slur as if you were drunk,
And your breaths sounded like wind chimes on a early Saturday morning,
The night would feel like watching a black and white movie, everything was colorless until I heard you look if I was still there with you
Now every night I lay awake and having sleepless hours, wanting to see the colors you shared with me once more.
Wanting to hear your bedtime stories about your life,
Wanting to feel your hot breath on my skin while we sleep,
All I can wish for now is to hear your mellow croak of the first breath you take once you wake.
Sancho
Head bowed, tail lowered
He slinks, dejected
He moves, turns around
Round and round
As he settles down in his space.
I am leaving for office.
Sancho looks at me, unsmiling
I cannot fathom his expression
But I know his sorrow at my leaving
I cannot look him in the eye, I cannot bear to.
In the evening, I rush back home
To see him, craning his neck
For a glimpse
Waiting, beyond the grilled gate
Anxious, excited, tail wagging
Vigorously.
When I am no more
Standing, as often I do, beneath my old mango tree,
I wonder how it would look without the leaves.
Without the mangoes, without the branches
Without the birds that sit preening on them.
The thick trunk sawed off, roots pulled out
Tiles or cement choking the earth.
For one, sunlight would be brighter; and glare
Upon the tiled roof of my house.
No more yellowed leaves to sweep away in the morning.
No more bird droppings to wash off
No more bat-eaten, splattered mangoes.
No more flies swarming around
No more air, thick
With the smell of the ripe, golden fruits.
No more, the tapping of the woodpecker
No more, the screeching kites.
4am
I am so tired of missing you.
* * *
Today was a good day.
I didn't flinch when they brought your name up.
I didn't show any sign that I even remotely missed you,
I didn't give them any ounce that I still care about you, that you still keep me up at night, that I can still feel your lips on mine own, that even though I'm alone in the darkness I'm not,
Because you are there with me.
I didn't tell them that even though it's been months since we went our separate ways that I still love you.
I didn't say a word.
Because today was one of my good days without you.
twenty
Some times,
I miss you so much my insides cave in.
Because you were the only thing holding me together.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: