Emmanuel George Cefai

Freshman - 2,311 Points (12th March 1955 / Victoria, Gozo)

Hear me, hear me, I am sad,


Hear me, hear me, I am sad,
And
Wish to go to Hastings Gardens
Now
That it be dusk, red dusk
And
Fallen
Is the glory of the day:
Fallen
The peacock beauty of the gaudy
Noon
And all the glories of its
Golden reign:
These are now faded,
Fallen.
Beneath a bending tree
In Hastings Gardens
In pilgrim shabbiness
Dressed
Bent more than the tree
Mourns Hope.
Weeping

Submitted: Saturday, August 02, 2014

Topic of this poem: sadness


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  • Bronze Star - 5,535 Points Daniel Brick (8/6/2014 1:08:00 PM)

    I remember your reference to Hasting Garden in earlier poems. Do you remember last spring I tried to find photos of it at a tourist site for Malta but cold not find it. If this garden is a place of peace for you, I hope sincerely you can hours there and let the unending process of nature fill you with its strong presence. Your sadness has produced some beautiful images like the peacock glory of noon. That cannot stop the pain but it shows that everything we feel, pain as well as joy excites our creativity.
    that every aspect of our humanity - joys, sorrows, wishes, memories - can excite our creativity. (Report) Reply

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