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
- Sow by Sylvia Plath
- To Imagination by Nithin Purple
- In The Village Of My Ancestors by Vasko Popa
- Sonnet LIX by William Shakespeare
- Since There Is No Escape by Sara Teasdale
- Departure by Sylvia Plath
- Олег Бундур – Когда я вернусь
- The Earth Trembles by Shahida Latif
- Towards Understanding, Through Poetry
- How Do You Know when Someone is in Love with You?
- Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet CIX by William Shakespeare
- A Birthday Present poem – Alfred Austin
- Whispering In Wattle Boughs
- Зинаида Александрова – Одуванчик
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.