She was saying mad things:
'To hell with the world!
Love is all you need! Go on
and get it! What are you
waiting for!' and she walked,
more like shuffled up the street,
her eyes fixed upon the distance.
People stepped self-consciously
out of her way. Straight up
stood her hair, wild.
What are you waiting for,
snarled from her lips.
it seemed directed to herself
really, to someone inside
with whom she fought.
The shredded hem of her dress
rustled around her.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (An Illusion by David Ignatow )
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)