All through an empty place I go,
And find her not in any room;
The candles and the lamps I light
Go down before a wind of gloom.
Thick-spraddled lies the dust about,
A fit, sad place to write her name
Or draw her face the way she looked
That legendary night she came.
The old house crumbles bit by bit;
Each day I hear the ominous thud
That says another rent is there
For winds to pierce and storms to flood.
My orchards groan and sag with fruit;
Where, Indian-wise, the bees go round;
I let it rot upon the bough;
I eat what falls upon the ground.
The heavy cows go laboring
In agony with clotted teats;
My hands are slack; my blood is cold;
I marvel that my heart still beats.
I have no will to weep or sing,
No least desire to pray or curse;
The loss of love is a terrible thing;
They lie who say that death is worse.
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Comments
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This shows such emotional pain of a lost love where the one left behind has lost the will to live. Very beautiful write.
Hugs Joan
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Great write. I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!Keep up the good work.
Love Sandra -
This speaks to me of total desolation. a lost love, interest in life nearly extinct. Perhaps this man had felt this emotion to write of it from the inside as he has. superb!
Vonny
Edited on Sep 09, 6:34 because ''. -
impowering a beautiful poem about love loss and what u go through after u loose someone! very easy to understand and moving at the same time!
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