B: Xxxxxxxxxvii: Late Whinge Poem by Douglas Scotney
B: Xxxxxxxxxvii: Late Whinge
Two brought sadness
to good:
the happy-on-bad,
and the still-being-happy-on-bad,
which spited good's love of itself
by making bad
hard to forget,
and impossible
to replace
with itself.
Monday, February 3, 2014
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The Complaints of an Icarus
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:11:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
love and love of itself, I like it. Please read my new poems..