F W Finney


House Lag


The guests have left
their fingerprints on the walls
of our now quiet house.

The chairs point in all directions
like messy hair.

They are in the air now-
probably somewhere over
the Bay of Bengal.

And here we are,
a couple again

picking up coasters and
dirty glasses;

tracing our steps
across the week's backyard
looking for patches of unmown grass;

wondering among the weeds
how we fared as hosts,
regretting our choices of certain restaurants
and the city's endless sedative traffic;

remembering things
we forgot to do.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

A slightly different version of this poem appears on pages 61-2 in
The Dissolution of the Sparkling Bridge.
(1997: Suksit Siam-Bangkok, Thailand)

Comments about this poem (House Lag by F W Finney )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. A Real Friend, Margaret Moran
  2. you're a vessel i want live on twelve mo.., Mandolyn ...
  3. Riff on Bruce's Post Card Love Affairs, David McLansky
  4. Eternal Thirst, Lora Colon
  5. When I look at you, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
  6. Formalities Not Necessary, Margaret Moran
  7. two women, Nassy Fesharaki
  8. I have seen everywhere, gajanan mishra
  9. joe dassin, co the skipper
  10. Of Course, Sonya Annita Song

Poem of the Day

poet Wilfred Owen

All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]