Efua

Efua, efua,
Magic as it happens.
Sparkling light,
Sparkling bright,
Piece of music
In the night.
Magic heard and magic seen,
Overflow
Of the Truth
In the denseness
Of the night.

Efua, efua,
How could it have happened?
On a frosty, windy eve
On your broom of make-believe
Swooshed you down
Into town,
Falling with the milky-white:
Efua, efua,

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poem by Sadia Arman
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With a Peace

On the last day
When all souls
Are called
By God
To account,
I
Shall be called
By the Vagabond Spirit
For mine.

With a peace...
With a peace...
With a peace...

The hills shall be filled
With a peace.
The sun shall go down
With a peace.

And my heart shall burst

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poem by Sadia Arman
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Bromley-by-Bow

I have this special feeling
In my chest
Whenever I pass you,
Bromley-by-Bow.

Is it respect, is it
The feeling of home?
What is it, I don't know;
I have heard
People talking of home,
I understand,
Bromley-by-Bow.

Right between my breasts
Where my heart should have been,
(Or was, at any rate
Long before I can remember) ,
I get this funny feeling:
A strange warm sensation
That makes me look at the letters

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poem by Sadia Arman
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The thing of wonder

Thou wert a thing of wonder
In a swath of silver light.
Were thou not torn asunder
Thou’d still be shining bright.

In this sober age, when men
Look for things more basic and mundane
Than romance,
Thou danced and flickered before them
In eerie, fabulous forms
Of translucent multi-coloured light,
That dazed pupils and dulled minds
Numbed by the monotony of whirring, cycling existence,
Awoke to new life
Energised!
Rejoicing in the new-found joy of lost romance
And fabled fantasy.
Enchantress!
When thou sat opposite to me
Eyeing me with that gaze of triple wonder:

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poem by Sadia Arman
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