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History

Rating: 4.7

She woke up old at last, alone,
bones in a bed, not a tooth
in her head, half dead, shuffled
and limped downstairs
in the rag of her nightdress,
smelling of pee.

Slurped tea, stared
at her hand- twigs, stained gloves-
wheezed and coughed, pulled on

the coat that hung from a hook
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Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: history
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Beautiful lines. History stood witness to so many things. Wonderful poem.

2 1 Reply
Bill Wright 22 April 2016

Wow, this lady writes some powerful stuff. The imagery is intense.

11 7 Reply
Bill Wright 28 August 2016

Not sure why somebody chose to dislike my comment, still, each to their own.

0 0 Reply
Tom Billsborough 20 April 2016

A poem of harsh and powerful truth. Breath-taking in its tight rhythms. Best poem I've read today

9 3 Reply