Ronald Stuart Thomas
My father is dead.
I who am look at him
who is not, as once he
went looking for me
in the woman who was.
There are pictures
of the two of them, no
need of a third, hand
in hand, hearts willing
to be one but not three.
What does it mean
life? I am here I am
there. Look! Suddenly
the young tool in their hands
for hurting one another.
And the camera says:
Smile; there is no wound
time gives that is not bandaged
by time. And so they do the
three of them at me who weep.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
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Comments about this poem (Album by Ronald Stuart Thomas )
- I am your mind, gajanan mishra
- What is Fall?, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Holy relation, hasmukh amathalal
- Echo Within, vikram adhikari
- What a Dream it was, mohamed Alpha Ba
- The Sky Above, vikram adhikari
- Burton & Taylor, Bill Grace
- The Echoes rattle, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Where statues from their eyes Shed Tears, Emmanuel George Cefai
- The ghosts and shrouds, Emmanuel George Cefai
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