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
Topic(s) of this poem: happy
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
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
7/28/2026 2:49:41 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
love and love of itself, I like it. Please read my new poems..