
Sunflowers I will plant sunflowers in the hollows we have dug with a rusty spade it is time to pull old roots rotten with dead habit in this neglected garden long-choked by winter’s breath it is time to till the soil let it soak in fresh April rain steam in this year’s sun and exhale pungent fumes until its pores are free to seed new grass and soft beds for my flowers. © Neetu Malik
Until I can fly . . . as the sun goes down
and waves come closer
with the rising tide
life spills . . .
forming red rivulets in sand
in the vast desert
man’s fury against man
reasons I do not understand
spring has come
and gone
summer breeze nudges
dense foliage to dance
they said to remember crawdads
asked me to listen for their song
when my heart was heavy
and my sorrow dark
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Lovely!
Thank you, Veronica. 🙂
Congratulations, Neetu.
Much in my life has changed since our collaborative efforts, but, it is good to see you continuing your excellent, dare I say, “spiritual” artistry.
Thank you, Mac, for your gracious comment. You know how my poems come to me. I hope to hear more about the change you have mentioned, and I hope life is being kind to you.