Far away there is a town, where I was born and raised.
And it is there I'd be found for almost all of my days.
Through the air drifts the sounds of laughter and peace,
Of mirth being wrought from human decency.
But it is there I am not, and here I shall be.
In this wood of pine and leaves where the fireflies flit.
Where I stood for an eternity, afraid to lie or sit.
There you stood forever with me until you eloped,
And I had all your memories kept where they'll never be shown.
Where you and I should have slept a long time ago.
Far away the bell does ring, a companion in the night.
In this dell is nothing save the languishing starlight.
In this dell I am waiting, for a friend or a foe,
Hence I feel no guilt and cry no wasted woe.
In this hell I have built, I see no rays of hope.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Help by Dillon McKenna )
- Our World, James coupland
- Moving Pictures, Matthew Thomas Donovan
- When Forgiveness Can't Be Forgiven, Amitava Sur
- Have You Lost Your Human Values?, Cynthia BuhainBaello
- Haunted, James coupland
- How Blessed Are Those, Shalom Freedman
- Individual Reasons, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Gentle Laughter, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- PH: Nature: Canoeing the Mississippi #5, Brian Johnston
- Existence Of An Only Time, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- A Drinking Song, William Butler Yeats
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
- Heather Burns
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)