At My Father’s Funeral - by
Didn’t we think, for a moment,
of crushing his feet
so he couldn’t return to the house
at Halloween?
Mood: Grief & Sorrow
Webs - by
Tensile strength. You would have liked that phrase,
/ lecturing me on how a spider’s thread
/ is stronger bonded than a rope…
Pietà - by
Her face was thrawed.
/ She wisna aa come.
/
/ In the trams o her airms
/ the wummin held oot her first bairn.
/ It…
‘Brothers, your cries…’ - by
Brothers, your cries
are ours too.
Departure and Departure and … - by
Someone is waving a white handkerchief
/ from the train as it pulls out with a white
/ plume from the station and rumbles…
Grief - by
What ails you, you puir auld body?
/ What gars you greet sae sair?
/ Hae you tint the…
Sae Lang Has Sorrow - by
Sae lang has sorrow tenanted
/ The hoose o’ Life wi’ me,
/ An’ saut-like seasoned ilka meal
/ Wi’ sharpened ecstasie,
/ That gin she cam’…
Gauč - by
Když jsem se dozvěděla, že Jiří umřel
/ (z Karlových Varů přišly dva telegramy,
/ jeden, že nežije, druhý, že je po pitvě),
/ nevím jak,…
Parting - by
My life closed twice before its close;
/ It yet remains to see
/ If Immortality unveil
/ …
Doves, fig tree and walls - by
High walls, mute, shuttered windows:
/ La Cour Bastide
/ In the shady yard at break
/ in the hubbub of strange language
/ others chalked the grid…