Array ( [sid] => 136429 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Ex-pat [time] => 2007-08-02 18:10:19 [hometext] => This is a satire.Sure, lots of retiring rich people are happy in the sun.But obviously it´s not Shrangri-la!And here are some of the ways in which we suffer....... [bodytext] => We inhabit our hospitals,
Longing for news,
White-walled-red -eyed,
Recalling paper and other views.
The morning sky is crushing,
Inwardly we turn for reason.
Counting down the unwanted,
Widdow time no longer courted.
Wondering how they see us,
Who see them,
And wonder.
Is the swimming-pool bitter?
Clean tan.
A gin and tonic an ocean?
Language has gained a late languid grip...
The silence a blasting past. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 162 [topic] => 25 [informant] => zicky [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Ex-pat


Ex-pat
Date: Thursday, 2nd August 2007 @ 06:10:19 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: zicky
We inhabit our hospitals,
Longing for news,
White-walled-red -eyed,
Recalling paper and other views.
The morning sky is crushing,
Inwardly we turn for reason.
Counting down the unwanted,
Widdow time no longer courted.
Wondering how they see us,
Who see them,
And wonder.
Is the swimming-pool bitter?
Clean tan.
A gin and tonic an ocean?
Language has gained a late languid grip...
The silence a blasting past.

This poem is Copyright © zicky


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