Pebbles and seashells
wash up
on my shore—
I gather them,
string them on lines
in colors and patterns
that come to mind,
pin them to the sky
with golden clasps
and make rainbows
when the rain is gone.
© Neetu Malik
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I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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I tread softly in your world mindful of my footsteps
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Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
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I love beachcombing. Your final stanza shows beautifully the fragile rays of hope you can harness. (It also reminds me of a quotation from Aristotle, who was ‘gathering the meanings of things’.)
Thank you, Katrina. In a way, gathering the meaning of things most of us do, without being aware of it.
Hey Neetu, I grew up less than an hour away from the Grand Strand of the Southeast US (Pawley’s Island & Litchfield Beach) and have so many wonderful memories. One of my favorite memories is searching for sand dollars and shark’s teeth in the surf with my daughter. Thanks for posting.
The memories are precious, Ernest. The sea offers up its secrets to us. The finds are like the memories, a treasure. Thank you for reading and sharing your memory!