The Bean Eaters
They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.
Dinner is a casual affair.
Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,
Two who are Mostly Good.
Two who have lived their day,
But keep on putting on their clothes
And putting things away.
And remembering . . .
Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,
As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that
is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths,
tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.
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Comments about this poem (The Bean Eaters by Gwendolyn Brooks )
- Hunger - never, gajanan mishra
- Our world's critical crises, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Unexpected Rendezvous, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
- Deathly war of soul, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- Creed of yours, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- Epistle To Mine Mater, Sir Toby
- Story for all of me, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- I saw only her, Erato
- Care of tear, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- The Grave, Sir Toby
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