Saturday, June 18, 2005


Up on the city's roofs there are large fields.
That's where silence crept up to
when there was no room for it on the streets.
Now the forest comes in its turn.
It needs to be where silence lives.
Tree upon tree in strange groves.
They don't do very well, because the floor is too hard.
So they make a sparse forest, one branch toward the east,
and one toward the west. Until it looks like crosses. A forest
of crosses. And the wind asks
- Who's resting here
in these deep graves?

- Rolf Jacobsen


Blogger Crazed Teacher said...

i was working on an anthology of poetry for o level i should have asked u to help me with the poems....if only i had remembered that u were a sucker for poetry on time

9:51 AM  
Blogger karrvakarela said...

Assalamualaikum, sister,

Sucker, indeed! It's connoisseur, lady. Out of curiosity, though, which poems did you include?

2:37 AM  
Blogger Crazed Teacher said...

hahah dont ask abt the poems i included but ones which i really thought funny were , waiter theres an alligator in my coffe by joe rosenblatt and where theres a will theres a sobbing relation by pam ayres......and yeah right a conno what ever i cant even bring myself to say that snobbish word hahaah

10:08 AM  

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