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
- Robert Burns: Lass Of Cessnock Banks, The:
- Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 – More oft than once death whispered by William Drummond
- To Solitude poem – John Keats poems
- Island-Hearth by M. Ivana Trevisani Bach
- The Vain Question
- Николай Языков – А. А. Воейковой (На петербургскую дорогу)
- Singing Darkness by Satish Verma
- A Snow-White Lily poem – Alfred Austin
- Swallows by Richard Schiffman
- Вера Полозкова – И пока он вскакивает с кровати
- Lets go by Vinko Kalinić
- There was a Child went Forth. by Walt Whitman
- You Will Forget! by Timothy Thomas Fortune
- Snow Flakes by Tala Bar
- Song Of The Furies
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.