in Poetry 25 Words

Émigré

Grief worn
Fear torn
Smiles gone
Forlorn
Impugned
Shunned
Banned
Fined
Jailed
Sermoned
Scorned
Caned
Pawned
Spurned
Warned
Wounded
Pained
Alone
Abandoned
In the
Unknown.

70 thoughts on “Émigré”

  1. Powerful! The form makes the words ring like a hammer striking an anvil. It drives the sentiment with an unrelenting pace and forces us to see the meaning of the words we read. I love this! Well written, Yassy!

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      3. It is cruel indeed…which is why we have to share some goodness, hope, kindness. Not going to bed right away–might watch a movie, write another poem, eat some cookies 🙂 :)💕🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

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      4. You are right, A. About sharing good vibes. Poetry is about that. Cheers to the verse.

        Movie ? I am going to watch The Witcher on nflix. Ciao

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      5. I watched a movie the other night–the longest worst movie I can remember, but I stuck it out to the end only because I like Matt Dillon 🙂 It’s called “The House That Jack Built”–about a serial killer (Dillon); and when I researched it, I learned that when it premiered at Cannes Film Festival at least 100 people walked out early! So, don’t bother to see that one! 🙂 I’ll check to see if The Witcher is on my cable/Amazon primed line-up 🙂

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      1. You’re welcome, yassy. I need to mask-up and head out into Donny’s diseased nation to lay in provisions and post a few paid bills. I long for the good old days when running errands used to be easy; not life threatening. Stay well, my friend!

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      2. Okay , off you go .
        Stay safe, stay masked of course , happy errand running and bill paying and rest of fur stuff that needs to be taken care of.
        Adios, my friend.

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  8. Pingback: Émigré — yaskhan | Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News

  9. Very, very few people are ever born with an inborn desire to leave home to never return and to wander to a new and unknown life. Those drawn to discovery as a life, for the most part return home if they can. I have not been to the city I where I was born and the one I grew up in for at least 30 years. I return home daily in memories or in dreams. I don’t think my experience is much different than those who were forced to leave their home by need or force. We all go home when we can. Thanks for the poem, that took me home again.

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    1. I understand, Ned. You must never stop hoping , though . Life goes on only when we let our memories and dreams push us. The rest is irrelevant. I am sure one day you will live your dream , till then stay safe and take good care of yourself.

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