Tanja Cilia

Freelance Writer

More Poems

I would have liked to… 

See the flowers bloom;
Make out the lines on a map,
And watch our child grow.

Watch the crows that fly,
One for sorrow, two for joy;
Seven being sly.

Days fade into nights
Arms folded and eyes shut tight
Yet my mind’s frantic.

Blank cinema screen…
With nothing worthwhile showing,
All hope has vanished.

Dances Celebration Acrostic

Dappaankuthu from Tamil; percussion; Bollywood.

Ardha from Arabia; Bedouin; war-dance.

Nutbush from Tennessee (City Limits!); line dance…

Cocek from Serbia; belly dancing; gypsy brass!

Eisa from the Nansei Islands; memorial service – Ryukyu musicians…

So, let’s move it!

10.30 p.m., Malta Time

The Moon frowns and hides behind the clouds;
She knows an Empty Nest is a sad place to be.
A collection of forlorn thoughts darts across her mind.
Dark shadows she casts on the earth below;
The new adult packs her bags and tries to look mature.
Inside, she’s still a little girl who needs her mom.
But life has to go on; and opportunities must be grasped
Before they flit away, never to return.
Weird shapes ooze across the meadows;
Reflections of clouds scudding across the night sky.
The streetlight catches the windscreen of her car, and glistens doubly,
As the branches of the olive dance to the chilly breeze.
The lonely widow cries, and hugs her only daughter, remembering.
She sees her husband in the face she strokes –
Aquamarine eyes, flecked with gold…
Feather reminiscences float surreptitiously
Down Memory Lane and she, too, weeps.
Go with God! she sobs, and wipes her eyes in her apron,
Both knowing she did her best to nurture her in faith and love.
She leaves, swallowed into the night.
Despondent, like the Moon, the bereft mother weeps,
And stands behind the window.
The red tail-lights fade.
She misses her grown-up-but-not-quite kid, already.

Never Again…

A thousand pieces, most of them blue.
Sky and sea meeting at the horizon,
With lupines, borage and bindweed
In the foreground meadow.
A blend of hues; a mix of tones;
A merging of nuances.
Commitment and persistence
And I’m almost done, but not quite.
Never again will I attempt
A jigsaw with 2000 pieces.

Perhaps Acrostic

Perhaps you too will stop and stare
Each look, each glance, and every glare
Reminds me more that life’s not fair
How can you judge me, how do you dare
Angels themselves wish a love so rare
Please know that my life is bereft and bare
Somebody, somewhere, understand… and care.

Silly Sonnet

When eyes are closed and sleep descends so sweet,
The demons of the night, they like it not.
They bid my Guardian Angels to retreat
And hinder their fine works with all they’ve got!

I try; I strive to be the best I can;
Yet strife and doubt beset me all day long.
Each wee success is but the flash-in-pan
Each tune a mournful dirge and not a song!

Each time I laugh, there’s bitter tears in store
For each success, a failure’s sure to come.
I will get less, for I dared ask for more –
I’m bound to fail, when all is said and done.

Welcome insomnia, wakefulness at night;
I cede my sleep – though not without a fight!

A Memory 

Wedding bells. Plans. Happiness.
Ultrasound and Doppler scans,
Why did she die?

Surprise party – eternity ring.
Glow, share, rejoice.
Why did she die?

Life, love and laughter.
Hopes, wishes, dreams.
Why did she die?

Pink booties, scented candles, musical mobile.
Heirloom eiderdown, lace curtains, nursery furniture.
Why did she die?

Drab days
Vacant stare
Empty cot
Meaningless existence
Endless days –
Infinite emptiness.

Why did she die
Never to be born?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

The Soul of the Heel: An American's Life in Puglia

Stories of an American couple's adventures in Italy

Ghandi xi Nghid

'Ghandi x' Nghid' (I have something to say) is a blog that focuses on current affairs and personal reflections - Andrew Azzopardi

Tanja Cilia

Freelance Writer

%d bloggers like this: