....Posts from my Book of Poems & Prose....this one from another writer...Yevtushenko..

                        I'm adding this one as part of some other writer's that I connected with back then.....1968 >'74....
                His name is Yevtushenko, and the name of the Poem is......'Waiting'......

       My love will come, will fling open her arms and fold me in them.
         Will understand my Fears, Observe my change in from the Pouring Dark, from the Pitch Night without stopping to bang on the Taxi door.
          She'll run upstairs, through the decaying porch, burning with Love  and Love's happiness, she'll run dripping upstairs, she won't knock, will take my head in her hands, and when she drops her overcoat on a chair....it will slide to floor in a Blue Heap.....


         .....Another from that same Writer, it's titled Gentleness......

    This can't go on:
          Is after all injustice of it's kind how in what year did this come into fashion..?
          Deliberate indifference to the living, deliberate cultivation of the Dead, their shoulders slump and get Drunk sometimes, and one by one they quit; Orators at tt the Crematorium speak words of gentleness to History.
          What was it took his life from Mayakovsky?! 
          What was it put the Gun between his fingers?!
If with that voice of his, with that appearance, if ever they had offered him in life some crumbs or gentleness.
          Men live, men are trouble makers.
          Gentleness is a Posthumous Honour.....

     
               .....from pages 3&4....... 

               .....now on page 5...I will add one of mine...

                 Girl of the Damned

Be down girl of the Damned, don't rise to the wealth of it...
They will take you and your land...you need all, so take your little bit.

Hit, leave, be gone forever. Leave this Household Slum with bed.
It should be Burnt, but never... it will stay and just get lost instead.