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
- The Rock Cries Out to Us Today by Maya Angelou
- Стефан Малларме – Дар поэмы
- On The Menu by Graham Rowlands
- Низами Гянджеви – Семь красавиц
- Italy
- The Giver by Sara Teasdale
- Жан де Лафонтен – Пьяница и Жена его
- It was a Lover and his Lass by William Shakespeare
- Robert Burns: Why, Why Tell The Lover: Fragment,
- The Bard by William Gilmore Simms
- Иван Крылов – Ода, выбранная из псалма 71-го
- [Greek Title] by Thomas Hardy
- Sonnet 16 poem – John Milton poems
- Федор Тютчев – К Н.
- Шекспир – Дыханье мысли и огонь желанья – Сонет 45
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.