Explore Poems GO!

Elegy

Rating: 3.2

After the tears, heartfelt tears and crocodile tears, 

I sit here with mouldy bread crumbs, dill leaves and salt.
 


The plastic clock above the fridge strikes the hour

to the sound of the same old quarrelling in the street, 
 


echoes resound in the gutters like bits of truth

and madness still propels our globe like the first ache.
 


We’ve buried you the way you asked: with no stone


or wooden cross above your decaying forehead, 
 

Read More

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ashraful Musaddeq 12 September 2008

'We’ve buried you the way you asked: with no stone or wooden cross above your decaying forehead, only the simple sky, the clouds, and the old sun. And at night the moon and the stars will comfort you' A very touchy poem, wonderful composition.10 for it.

0 0 Reply