Writing


He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.
He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria
...And he had married me.

"Akhmatova," translated by D. M. Thomas


BOOKS ON SHELF LIST:
Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling; Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss; The Elements of Style, Fourth Edition by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White; Complete Poems Dorothy Parker; Akhmatova, Everyman's Library Pocket Poets translated by D.M. Thomas


"Product of Loneliness"

Hint: Count the syllables in this poem.

I
Search my
Life for you,
To find your being
In myself,
To love
You.

You
Lived bound
By your fear,
Left in solitude,
Scared to find
A new
You.

We
Found each
Other as
Complements to our
Own lackings,
You, me —
We.

Copyright Tatiana Harrison 2008, written 2004

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