I close my eyes now. How beautiful the breeze, How overwhelmingly vivid it consumes me I’m falling through time, surrounding myself with your space. The light creaks my eyes open, blinding me-yelling at me for letting them close my eyes I knew that there would come a day, I can see...
The remaining lines though suggest that while she feels guilt about using her humour in this way, in actuality it may be a positive. It helps her to “cross a river” and remember the bruising in the opening was symbolised by a river. So here we see that her humour helps her to ...
Those deep brown eyes Smiles when the new born cries She's like the storm Who keeps away the misery But the effect of her presence makes everything calm Sayani Ghosh Sunday, May 12, 2024 poem poems Eyes Lies Download image of this poem. Report this poem POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE P...
Marian heads to the company happy to sell out for her son’s sake, if cranky about the task. “I’m a human being, a thinking human being, and this is a stack of mindless algorithms,” she says after testing out Charlotte. Charlotte announces she’s read “most poems in English publi...
But I went near to see with my own eyes. You could sit there with the stains on your shoes Of the fresh earth from your own baby's grave And talk about your everyday concerns. You had stood the spade up against the wall Outside there in the entry, for I saw it.' ...
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM Are there ghosts in cemeteries? COMMENTS OF THE POEM LeeAnn Azzopardi 22 December 2021 ghosts are everywhere especially in dreams Love the poem Bravo! 1 0 Reply Sandra Feldman 23 December 2021 As if we were there. When reading we are there with you.We...
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“How long you been doing this job?” “About two years when…” “How high up the cliff face was the ice back then?” Pointed out a boulder, ten metres up: “Up there…” Sudden look, brain joined dots, aware, left her to stare… ...
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . ...
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears, And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears Like bluest water seen through mists of rain: PDFGuide My Voice ‘My Voice’ reflects on love’s end, blending ballad and ode elements to explore themes of loss, longing, and the passage of...