Poems Rethabile Likes

The Mower by Philip Larkin | Poems Rethabile Likes The Mower by Philip Larkin The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, Killed. It had been in the long grass. I had seen it before, and even fed it, once. Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world Unmendably. Burial was no help: Next morning I got up and it did not. The first day after a death, the new absence Is always the same; we should be careful Of each other, we should be kind While there is still time. Poet: @PhilipLarkin Online: @ThePoetryHour ...

Gaza by Bill Manhire | Poems Rethabile Likes Gaza by Bill Manhire The dead boy tries to open his eyes. He wants to see the world he is leaving. But there is nothing to see here, nothing and nothing, and anyway he is gone. His parents held him while he died but they are both dead, too. Or he held them, no one remembers. 🎧 Listen to Bill Manhire read "Gaza" Your browser does not support the audio element. Poet: @BillManhire Online: @BestNewZealandPoems Book(s): @ThriftBooks ...

Janice’s poem by Rethabile Masilo | Poems Rethabile Likes "Janice’s poem" by Rethabile Masilo Poet and Publisher Phil Rice reads Masilo's "Janice’s poem" — a journey of dawn, dust, and the echo of light. Find Rethabile's books Janice’s poem When you get there, the horses of dawn before you, the furious wheels of drawn carts, each distance hard-won with sweated salt, the road flat between miles; tense; only hoof and sound of wheel loud above the air, proof that this is not just a bad dream, who can say what's best to do for our calm? You sit like sculpted ivory among jaded colours, something in the face you wear, hung like a mask on walls of inner rooms, something in the sound whose echo names you, the morning of which ...

If I Must Die by Refaat Alareer | Poems Rethabile Likes If I Must Die by Refaat Alareer If I must die, you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so that a child, somewhere in Gaza while looking heaven in the eye awaiting his dad who left in a blaze — and bid no one farewell not even to his flesh not even to himself — sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above, and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love. If I must die let it bring hope, ...

Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden | Poems Rethabile Likes Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last...