They water blossom-tresses; pare them back
on branch of bone. Big amorous boys' eyes
come bumble-droning, pollen-bags on thighs.
But every strand, each rooted follicle
is an antenna. Stung, they turn and glare,
of scrutiny behind their necks aware.
Men lack this swivel-circumflex of sight.
Staunch Agamemnon, staring straight ahead
as Clytemnestra crept, would soon lie dead.
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Comments about this poem (Capability Janes by Richard George )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Mind, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- WE ARE TEMPORARILY HERE, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Waxing Grandiloquent, Margaret Alice Second
- When The Evening Light Comes, Pijush Biswas
- Hindi haiku (56-60), S.D. TIWARI
- Retirement (or) Till Your Last, Natarajan Ramaseshan
- An illicit dream....., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- The House Across Our Road, Kuda Bondamakara
- sadism, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Call me, I am here, gajanan mishra