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Saturday, November 27, 2010

sometimes it is painful to laugh.

my computer crashed
so did my affair
with him,
all my documents
took flight
back to Muse
he also returned
to his wife
and I moaned
more the loss of ideas
and feel relief
from his groping passion
that left me hungrier
than when he came.

She told me:
he is my son
the first gift of my womb
and of my pain
as soldiers line
six deep
at high noon
to return to him
the fruits of his labors

the roar of the watching crowd
and cries of those he had sent
sometimes at dawn
to their deaths
were sound beds to her request.
she said,
I have suckled him
with hopes of a better day
but he laughed and scorned
as I wept and moaned
now dry eyed
she watched unflinching
as the guns boomed
his body limp
on the drums to which
it was staked.

She signed the papers
to take him away
for burial.


  1. This was deep. At first I was expecting something humorous, but this sad poem leaves one fully aware of the sacrifices families make when their men go off to war.

    Thanks for sharing your wonderful gift.


  2. It is an honour to have you visit Nomar. Thanks very much for your kind comments. I appreciate you.

  3. Thanks so much for sharing. We always count on writers like you to give us a great picture. This is phenomenal. Thanks

  4. Thanks Adeline, you are a treasured friend and it real pleasure to read your comments

  5. I would echo what Nomar said; this is a very powerful poem. Exactly what I have come to expect from you! Congratulations

  6. What a silent powerful poem this is! your exquisite choice of words makes it a poem that mixes various emotions and for me, a peculiar sense of vulnerability that is the predicament of human life. Thank you for such poignant words ...