Life Here - Poem by G. Silver
Maybe it is true: we all hate home,
I know at times I've hated life here.
I hate the tapes I've strewn about recklessly on the floor,
As they remind me of their contents' little worth,
And the sheer discare I've taken of them
I hate the heady, intellectual books I read,
I never know if I read them just because,
Or if I actually like them.
I harbour an especially intense dislike for the few,
That adorn my walls and door,
Reminding me what bands I like,
And what friends I supposedly have.
There is one picture I like,
In a buttoned frame -
It sticks out like a sore thumb from the others,
Being, not bought at IKEA,
but given to me as an unpretentious,
and unexpected Christmas gift, from someone I love.
I treasure that photo more than anything!
Certainly more than the choice junk
atop my sullen chest of drawers,
Stuff I should have thrown out with an 'I-forgive-you' smile,
And 'wasn't-that-a-good-time' thoughts.
Instead it sits,
And gathers dust.
Comments about Life Here by G. Silver
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You