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Poems By Poet Vera Sidhwa  8/21/2014 2:58:41 PM
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My Hair Just Hung Like That

My beautiful hair just hung like that.
It mattered that others' looked neater.
But I was like the rockband people,
Who realized where genius lay.

It lay in dishevelement of hair for sure.
The unrulier the more evolved the musician.
His synergistic flow from his hair to his guitar.

Flow of music,
Flow of hair,
It's musical relationship
Of orderly then disorderly harmony.

Guns n Roses and Linkin Park.
Their non-hairstyle created syncopated notes.
For whatever their musical stories told,
There was no reason to straighten their hair out.
Vera Sidhwa



P r o g r e s s

Mountains and freeways,
Running side by side.
The Internet and textbook,
Used together by the student.

Made me wonder,
Where we were going with this.
The tech music and accompanying dance,
Made me in wonder glance.

Laptops and KKindle books,
And the mobil phones' technology,
Did not up students' scores any.
Freeway cars, supposed to go fast,
Made me think we reached the limit,
Car now drove at the slowest speed limit.

During the rush hour, we rush to drive the slowest.
We're regressing while calling this progressing.

For in the end,
Fast went to slow,
Voice went electronic,
Computers when too loaded,
Slowed down to too slow.

Well then if progress,
Turns to regress,

Where do Earth's people go?
Vera Sidhwa



Paper Boats

Paper boats,
On my backyard stream,
Are my pretty backyard dream.

Paper boats,
Floating fast on the lake,
Looking pretty for prettiness' sake.

Paper boat,
Bobbing up and down on the water,
Makes me very happy.
Vera Sidhwa



Parking Lot

Meandering through a parking lot,
I wove through it's cars a lot.
The spaces in between seemed full,
With doors swinging open.

There were no nuances here,
There were cars in motion,
There were cars sitting there.
I thought they resembled,
Our life by sight.

My life was spent,
In a gigantic flow,
Of cars,
Where I could come and go.

I spent a moment,
Just sitting in my torment,
Of cars not moving,
The meters paying.

My life was spent,
Mostly meandering,
Driving through my day,
Mostly reaching,

Here and there.
And even nowhere.
Then also going somewhere,
And coming back,
Into this parking lot of my life,
That was jammed packed today.
Vera Sidhwa
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Poems By Poet Vera Sidhwa