Dorothy Parker

(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967 / Long Branch / New Jersey)

Pattern


Leave me to my lonely pillow.
Go, and take your silly posies
Who has vowed to wear the willow
Looks a fool, tricked out in roses.

Who are you, my lad, to ease me?
Leave your pretty words unspoken.
Tinkling echoes little please me,
Now my heart is freshly broken.

Over young are you to guide me,
And your blood is slow and sleeping.
If you must, then sit beside me....
Tell me, why have I been weeping?

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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

Read poems about / on: lonely, heart, rose, sleep

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?

Comments about this poem (Pattern by Dorothy Parker )

Enter the verification code :

  • kyle. (6/25/2008 4:46:00 PM)

    this poem is very dramatic...
    it paints a picture of love today amongst young teenagers. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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. there's heaven on the plains and freedom.., Mandolyn ...
  2. Journey of imaginable stress!, Marshall Gass
  3. the fishermen on the wharf, Marshall Gass
  4. In The Market For The Exotic, Terence G. Craddock
  5. Far Traveller Absorb Exotic Sights, Terence G. Craddock
  6. the yardstick, Marshall Gass
  7. Market Traveller Moves Unseen, Terence G. Craddock
  8. Miss Taken, Marshall Gass
  9. Shipping Container, Marshall Gass
  10. Smell the Flowers, Joseph Narusiewicz

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]