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Sunday 1 February 2009

In Memoriam of Friends Gone By


I am not stopping here
for long

Between winter and fall
I'll be gone
Perhaps we will meet
when
spring leaves bloom

Or, not at all.



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7 comments:

  1. Tess Kincaid2 February 2009 at 03:46

    This is beautiful. I like to think that we will meet them again one day.

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  2. Muznah2 February 2009 at 06:39

    Short and sweet and hopeful... beautiful

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  3. The Weaver of Grass2 February 2009 at 14:15

    Hi Shaista. I am paying you a return visit and must say I love your poetry so shall call again for inspiration.

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  4. A Cuban In London3 February 2009 at 16:11

    What I love about your poems is that they are short and precise. They leave the reader wanting more which is good.

    I see you have 'Their Eyes Were Watching God' in your to-read-books list. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

    Greetings from London.

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  5. Shaista3 February 2009 at 17:50

    Muchos gracias Cuban, I like the simplicity of my poems too. One can do many things with language but it is important to be true.

    The books on the right are not on my to-read list, they are part of my library, books I have already read, which I return to time and again. Zora Neale Hurston was my university discovery, part of my journey and my dissertation. I never have a to-read list, books find us at the right time, when we are ready to listen.

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  6. A Cuban In London5 February 2009 at 11:31

    I agree with you that books find us. Beautifully put. I was going to comment on your latest poem but the comments section is not available. I like the fact that you celebrate your beauty. As an immigrant I have never been able to accept fully the self-deprecation by which British society is typically characterised. I belong more to the Maya Angelou's 'Phenomenal Woman' (Man in my case) mould. Many thanks for another lovely offering.

    Greetings from London.

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  7. Unknown27 February 2009 at 07:23

    we will meet
    when the flowers open
    and scatter their tender dust
    for there is a gentle whisper
    in the air
    whose promises i trust.

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