Last Word

By Richard MurphyHer voice is a mist on the phoneFar away and precariousAs a tree whose roots clingTo rocks overhanging a cliffAs she threatens to hang up.Years pass into dustWith drills, hammers and sawsRemodelling an old houseWhose walls of silenceKeep a granite hold on my loss.Now that she’ll never intrudeOn my rock garden concordFar away through a static mistI hear in her voiceEndless silence

Subscribe to receive free email updates:

Related Posts :

  • The WindowsLord, how can man preach thy eternal word?He is a brittle crazy glass;Yet in thy temple thou dost him affordThis glorious and transcendent p… Read More...
  • TiananmenTiananmenby James FentonTianamenIs broad and cleanAnd you can’t tellWhere the dead have beenAnd you can’t tellWhat happened thenAnd you can’… Read More...
  • Filofaxby David HarsentThe entire township, heading north in cars, in trucks, on bikes, on foot,some with next to nothing, some choosing to cart(as… Read More...
  • What do Women Want?I want a red dress.I want it flimsy and cheap,I want it too tight, I want to wear ituntil someone tears it off me.I want it sleeveless and b… Read More...
  • Puisi Idul Fitri Bilingual English - IndonesiaTodayAs I humble myselfforgetting my arrogancedefeating my headAs I'm occupied motionlessat the front of the window of your heartwaiting for… Read More...

0 Response to "Last Word"

Post a Comment