FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY
Hello, Goodbye
Not a sound was heard, not a breath was taken
Except a new life on a cold January morning
Shrouded in white, she lay still in a box
Ready to be buried in earth, rubble and rocks
Her little round face, tinged blue
Her large shut eyes, a purple hue
We tread damp earth, our arms across our chests
And quietly gathered around her final resting place
Prayers were said, words were spoken
Her father's dry rasps, the wind had stolen
I wonder what will become of her
After she crumbles into the soil
And births dandelions and ferns
*work in progress
Where do we belong?
Where do we belong?
The generation that left
Three decades ago
Our culture held fast in our fists
Refusing to release
Or fully integrate
For fear of betrayal
Only to return and find
Bangladesh has moved on
Without us
*Longlisted for the Briefly Writer Poetry Prize 2021
Jacob
A vibrant life
Extinguished
His jubilant cry
Stolen by the wind
Like the soft seeds
Of a dandelion
He failed to blow
Now lost
In the breeze
You are here
Home is a card board box
Torn at the edges
Damp in one corner
And mouldy in the other
Have you a pound?
Just for a cuppa
But they walk on by
Eyes glazed over
Staring straight ahead
We
Before religion and culture and tradition and sexuality
And money and class and race and gender
Beyond the countries we were born in, the cities we grew up in
The houses we lived in and the schools we went to
The friends we made, the jobs we worked
Despite what we are told by politicians on TV
The deceit that seeps into our minds
And the hate that is fed through our fears and ignorance
We are humans
Baby language
He speaks words of untainted innocence
Ones that we are unable to comprehend
Beauty
Beauty lies not in your outer later
But in the strength it took you
To make the decision to leave
And in the act that followed after
There is a sense of disbelief
Wonder and admiration
In your journey
The long hard walk to a new life
Leaving your feet blistered
And your hands callused
Your scars, my dear
Are a badge of your courage
And your courage, my darling
Is a mirror of your beauty
London
The city where we are afraid to make eye contact and smile at each other
Because it’s weird and we just don’t do that
Where immigrants migrate to
Adding a variety of colours, food, smells, practises and celebrations
Yet stick to the shops and neighbours that speak the same language as them
A city that’s overpopulated
Trains jam packed like sardines in a tin can
Squashed up against men with big beards
And women with pointy handbags
So painfully close
Yet so far apart
Socially
And emotionally