Vera Sidhwa Poems

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.
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Death is my friend.

We lie together on the ocean blown sand.
He is my gentle guide and saint.
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Ah green, I love my green.
It's the traffic light's nicest scene.
Green is a traffic dream.
You can always keep driving, driving, driving.
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Clap your hands for you,
Clap your hands for me.
Clap your hands in synchrony.
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Salt and pepper shaker,
Talk to me a lot,
Whether the customer,
Advice sought.
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Does it seem that this field,
Laden with wild thorns and wildflowers,
Mean that thorns would gain power,
Over freshly blooming petals,
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Bees, birds, bugs and bobcats,
Mice, rats, rabbits and wildcats,
Blossoms, bunnies and bladder pods,
Ducks, bulrushes and butterflies.
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The Jewelry Box

Among the glittery movement in the jade swaying
I never ever wore lenses
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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.
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What Happened Today was a Mistake

Those corporate laws just made me mad.
The walls they put up made me sad.
...