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Vera Sidhwa Poems
Death Is My Friend
Death is my friend. We lie together on the ocean blown sand. He is my gentle guide and saint.
Traffic light with red, yellow and green, With red warning us to stop in life, When we go so fast we do not see. I like that traffic light warning me.
Bees, birds, bugs and bobcats, Mice, rats, rabbits and wildcats, Blossoms, bunnies and bladder pods, Ducks, bulrushes and butterflies.
Children on the Streets of India
The girl of twelve told me, A different but then the same story, That boy of four told me, His idea of what life should be.
Salt and Pepper Shaker
Salt and pepper shaker, Talk to me a lot, Whether the customer, Advice sought.
Thorns and Wildflowers
Does it seem that this field, Laden with wild thorns and wildflowers, Mean that thorns would gain power, Over freshly blooming petals,
Fingerpads and Keypads
Fingerpads and keypads, In rapid fluttering motion, Moved the story along, As if they knew it's way.
Border in the Sand?
I slid around the wet sand's, Border between it and I.
I once met you, in the middle of a forest. I pretended I didn't see you. Your garb so beautiful, your voice so sweet. It made your grace so complete.
My Wings Won't Fly
My wings flew fast yesterday. But today they won't flutter or fly. The regimented structure, Makes me loudly cry,
My laughter resounded through the trees, Then bent around the stream. This laughter had turned to tears, When disturbed by a bad dream.
Whirrrrrrrr - Cars! ! !
I rode in my mommy's car. The other cars drove by. The others cars made a whirring sound. My mommy's car made me sigh.
Palm tree fronds, swaying in the sun. It was that state, the California one. I surmised that the beauty came from this state. I remember from the heat, my thirst did slake.
Cooling water, you quench my thirst. Of all the drinks, I choose you first. The global resource, continents wide, All waters side by side.
Comments about Vera Sidhwa
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Death Is My Friend
Death is my friend.
We lie together on the ocean blown sand.
He is my gentle guide and saint.
He's rocked in my arms, and burrowed in my heart.
I found him playing in my crade, when I was just born.
Death is so loved by me,
Even his non-living ways.
As living as I may be,
Death has seen life and death.
Because I have death glam,
My friend looks sweet.
I lie underneath the apple tree with a heart beating
With one whose heartbeat doesn't exist.
But now I must stand up and leave him be,
So I walk in the opposite ...