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Widow’s walk
who is fit to go to sea
in the heart
some other weather
I ache so much to sense
but I am old
the pretty girl that sang
and danced is dead
Wiersze na temat: widow
Wiersze na temat „widow” na Poets.by.
Gunfire
I drink a draft of desire.
A gun gives widowhood
and the discourse of revenge:
to meet and dissolve, to issue hurt.
I was glad to hear a sermon
too eloquent for a pulpit—
the talking rain.
Smt Kunjamma Wd/o Late Sep Joseph
Cheques, neatly printed, issued in favour of
Smt Kunjamma Wd/o Late Sepoy Joseph
Smt Nalini Pavithran Wd/o Late Sepoy Pavithran
Smt Chandramathy Wd/o of Late Swr Gopalan and so on and so forth
Cheques of the Army Welfare Board,
Doles, for the survivors.
Scrawling my signature over them, ticking, rapidly glancing
Back and forth at the PC and cheques
At the amounts, dates, and other details
I flip through the leaves
Cursing inwardly at the mounting work
And my aching eyes and having
To fix a glassy smile on my face – suddenly -
Before my eyes appear the mountains, the deserts
The gullies and ravines
I feel the numbing cold of the snows
The Widow
The road is left; the yard;
And the old sycamore;
Larkspurs tall in the grass
Just at the door;
And the thick gusty wind that breaks
The clothes-props down;
She has a bed to make; for her tall girl
A buff-sprigged gown.
But oh, to have him back again
Flashing and young;
To sit in yonder chair,
And with delicate tongue
To talk to her of love,
And things that last —
Go call him from his grave
Where he lies fast!