My father knows when
the crocuses are out
and when the snowdrops
and when the bluebells
and how to listen, carefully,
to the nesting birds,
trilling
between our rooms.
Daisies will come
and roses will grow
and perhaps we shall walk
and reminisce about the snow
and kick up some leaves
and weave up some dreams
while the world passes by
my father and I.
artwork: Father's painting of Crocuses, Spring '66
9 comments:
sounds like you have a close relationship with your father :)
How's it going with you?
I know that it is only February (I am writing this comment on the 1st March) but to me this is a spring poem. It's delicate and thoughtful. I can imagine you and your father walking along the blossoming dandelions, in silence, and suddenly uttering a word at the same time and smiling at each other embarrassedly and saying: 'You go first'. Beautiful.
Greetings from London.
wow. you and your father's work together make some magic.
Lovely, both your words and your father's painting. Thinking of you.
Catherine
Love this poem. Has impact even when you don't know that he can't see.
hey there..... love the idea of you and your dad, in that world of yours, unfettered by the things outside, everything changes but your world with your father will always be the same... be well... thinking of you always little sister..... come visit us in singapore soon....
Hello Shaista,
Your poem brought to mind this one - and others - by e e cummings:
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Hello its me, I am finally here. Can i join you and pa on your walk? i will hold your hand and say something silly and make you laugh. i promise. then we can come back in and mum can make us all a nice cup of tea. riz will be upstairs on the computer and then he will come down and the house will be full of laughter again.
I'm in the office reading your poetry, and just wanted to congratulate you for making me cry. In Bucketloads :)
Your poetry is truly touching...
I once wrote a poem for my parents that I'd like to dedicate to you today:
"We are everything and everywhere"
To the call of my roots I arise
to a sticky evening on a bed of fine imagined silk
Mosaics of cool blue provide the only refreshment
For mint is welcome but not yet to be seen
A deep drum resonates of empty spaces
of grains of sand counting infinity,
falling into vastness in effortless affinity
Colours of sun-dried crimson surround me
those of drapes dancing to the whims of a sirocco
The smell of wet earth and cinnamon permeate me
A vague of Rose water is lightly sprinkled over me
I sit here listening to this deep ominous sound
That of thunder above a congregation of black clouds
The call of the far-away muezzin is timely
It embodies heavenly and earthly beauty
of deserts so vast as to shatter any certainty
The wind is here and everything seems to be whirling
The dervishes must be out practicing
To the dizzying rhythms of moon, earth, and sun setting
All things still and living have now merged
of the harmony and unity that is all around
If one only knows to look,
to listen, to smell, to feel, to dream
Then the sadness of being far from home begins to disappear
For there needs be no barriers…
Earth is earth…
Wind is wind…
Sky is sky…
Sea is sea…
Light is light…
They simply change colour and tune to tease us
to uniquely sculpt you and I into the world that is us
I know we’re far but all I need to do is look, listen, smell and feel
to make sure there is always a meeting place for you and I in my dream
x
Meriem
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