Wildfire
The border of this fire crackled and snapped.
It's undulating movement that moved
All over the earth's body.
It's leaping orange and red intertwined,
This fire in all it's glory made me scream.
It made me heat up, this fire of old and fire of new.
This fire's constant singing made me wonder how it had a voice.
But it did, sometimes lower and sometimes higher, and then
So high.
This fire was nature's mischief maker and he made mischief.
Of all the leaves, branches and trees around him,
And he made mischief on me.
One day I disclosed to all my friends,
This fire was not a true fire.
It didn't burn down anything,
But it so excited me that it did burn my heart.
It excited my whole body and burned through my soul.
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poem by Vera Sidhwa
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He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword
He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.
So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.
In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,
This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.
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poem by Vera Sidhwa
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That Big Yellow Balloon
'Mommy, I want that big yellow balloon, '
The baby boy cried.
Mommy walked the mall replying,
'I only see a red balloon.'
So the Mommy did drive,
And the baby it cried,
Then they reached a new store.
But the baby wanted that big yellow balloon,
The store did not have.
'Maaaaaaaam, I want that big yellow balloon, '
The baby yelled with his wavy shaped mouth.
The Mommy saw some red, white and blue balloon,
Driving by a July the Fourth party.
Now the baby bellowed louder,
Pounding his fists on the floor,
Saying, 'see Mom, all big yellow balloons are gone Mom.
Why did you wait so long?
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poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Cottage or Apartment
The roses' and the vines' fragrance,
Mingled with my cottage air.
Maine's preponderance of pines,
Surrounded my cottage fair.
The heavenly light ray,
Pierced through the fir tree.
It made my life there,
A nature fantasy.
That wooden kyake parked on the Sound,
Spoke to me of learning the sea.
Twittering birds and wild turkeys,
Spoke to me of how life should be.
But the human in me, never quite satisfied,
Yearned for alterations,
Of happiness that could have been,
A still happier life, that could have been.
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poem by Vera Sidhwa
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