My poetry blog is sadly lacking in maintanence/all things needed to make it attractive, so I'm putting anything poetry related on here until further notice. (I don't have that much, anyway)
"The Letter" by me
I came home and saw his letter,
Written on old blue lined paper.
Careful words covered more than half.
Dazed I drifted through unchanged rooms.
All our things were still there.
Only the keys and his clothes were gone.
And because I appreciate me some Ambrose Bierce (author of The Devil's Dictionary):
"Weather" by Ambrose Bierce
Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see,
And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as any one can be--
Dead and damned and shut in Hades as a liar from his birth,
With a record of unreason seldome paralleled on earth.
While I looked he reared him solemnly, that incandescent youth,
From the coals that he'd preferred to the advantages of truth.
He cast his eyes about him and above him; then he wrote
On a slab of thin asbestos what I venture here to quote--
For I read it in the rose-light of the everlasting glow:
"Cloudy; variable winds, with local showers; cooler; snow."
1 comments:
I REALLY liked your poem. It was rather reminiscent of Jack Gilbert.
I loved the last two lines. I think they're the most poignant in the whole piece--how everything is largely the same, except for the keys and the clothes. Interesting, that those are the only things he would take. Interesting also, how the rooms sort of reflect the heart (for lack of a better word) after a broken relationship.
Very cool. There was lot of nuance. I liked it. :)
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