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The Web Poetry Corner

Kathy Rogers

of

Windsor, ON, CA

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mloderst@sng.uni-frankfurt.de (Kathy Rogers)


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The Old Man

by

Kathy Rogers

He sits in the rotting, rocking chair, head bent low.
Last weeks newspaper lay folded neatly on the floor in the corner.
Outside the window, a strayed bluejay flies alone through the air.
It reminds him of his present existence.

He remember's his guitar,
And how it brought smiles and laughter,
To people who felt sad and depressed.
And he had his loved one, to make content.

But now all is gone.
His body is bent and twisted.
He no longer plays his guitar.
He looks at her picture sitting magestically on the shelf.

He picks it up and brings it with him,
To safely tuck away underneath his pillow.
The sun is dying now,
And he crawls slowly into his lonely bed.


o Velho

by

Kathy Rogers

DreamMachineThis poem was translated by Carlos Wood
The Dream Machine --- The Imagination of the World Wide Web


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Ele senta-se na apodrecida, cadeira de balanço, a cabeça inclina-se.
O último jornal da semana cai nitidamente dobrado no canto do chão.
Lá fora, um gaio azul voa solitário atravéz do ar.
O faz lembrar de sua existência.
Ele lembra-se do seu violão,
E como isto trouxe risos e gargalhadas,
Para pessoas que sentem-se tristes e deprimidos.
E ele teve o seu amor, para fazê-lo contente.

Mas agora tudo se foi.
Seu corpo está curvo e torcido.
Ele já não toca o seu violão.
Ele olha para o quadro dela assentado magistralmente na estante.

Ele apanha-o e o traz com ele,
Para seguramente guardá-lo debaixo do travesseiro.
O sol está indo agora,
E ele rasteja lentamente para sua cama solitária.