Dregs

Posted on 5 Desember 2012

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Randi Ward er kend her um leiðir. Hon hevur búð í Føroyum og býr nú í Íslandi. Vit kenna kanska hennara yrkingar best, tí at Guðrið Hansdóttir hevur gjørt løg til tær. Fløgan eitur Beyond the Grey. Men hon er annað enn tað. Hetta sæst millum annað á heimasíðu hennara: http://randiward.com/

Hetta liggur á bretsku heimasíðuni, folk radio uk: http://www.folkradio.co.uk/2012/12/dregs-a-poem-by-randi-ward/

 

 

dregs

(1).
A copper kettle
hides its cobweb
from the sun.

The handle’s broken
off the door,
but it still shuts.

A cup of coffee
laced with notes
of cardamom.

No bitter aftertaste
to bait
my scalded tongue.

(2).
My windows only
look this dirty
in the sun.

The handle’s broken
off the door,
but it still locks.

A cup of coffee
doesn’t care
what it becomes.

Drink it to the dregs
then leave it
when it’s done.

(3).
The curtains draw me
when they’re tired
of the sun.

No more mistaking
gusts of wind
for friends long gone.

A cup of coffee
doesn’t care
what it becomes.

Drink it to the dregs
then leave it
when it’s done.

 

OMR

Posted in: ikki bólkað