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Poems By Poet Vera Sidhwa  10/24/2014 1:04:00 PM
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Jigsaw Puzzle

Jigsaw puzzle that I saw from a plane,
Jetting over the United States,
Jigsaw puzzle that I quickly flew over,
Were the different shaped pieces of my land.

So many pieces of the United States of America.

The three-thousand mile nation below,
Cut in jagged pieces though.

The way of the divide,
Caused the unified,
After gaining independence,
To show each states dependence.

To show their unique boundaries,
To show how strange they can be cut.
One big flat piece, a long shaped state,
Another called Pennsylvania a rectangle shape.

This was the state of all nations,
To showed solidarity, then a divide,
A state of a jigsaw puzzle piece,
With it's own power, shape and style.

Of how unique boundaries maintain,
The big union,
The states carved in curvy pieces,
That snap ultimately together in one.

This one called the United States of America.
The other called Asia.
One more called Europe,
Still another Africa.

Via satellite the states looked united.
The map pieces were connected,
The jigsaw puzzle on the floor I'm playing.
The jigsaw puzzle of the pieces breaking.

The jigsaw puzzle I saw as state boundaries,
Of the continent far and wide.

People united by being DIVIDED,

Is 'one nation under God INDIVISIBLE.'
Vera Sidhwa




The newness of your smile,
Dazzled her.
Her face showed the newness,
You had reflected upon her.

The newness of your smile,
Made the sunshine bloom,
In so much brightness,
In time so soon.

The newness of your smile,
Turned the pages of a book.
The pages never any effort took.
They turned by themselves,
Under the newness of your smile.
Vera Sidhwa



Swaying in the Breeze

Flower blossoms dropped from above,
My symbols of springtime love.
The tree swaying in the breeze,
Spoke of all it had with ease.

The tree's soft message was now sent,
About how it's life was meant,
To protect and nurture others,
In a lifetime of now and the future.

This message wasn't mediocre,
This message wasn't mean.
It was not about a well meant scheme.
It was about how this tree was made,
To help those sitting in it's shade.

I looked up at it's branch,
And trunk and leaf.
The tree educated me in brief,
That life's branches were numerous.

That life's roads were never ending.
And life's adventures were everlasting,
When embarking upon these branching roads.
Vera Sidhwa



Thorns and Wildflowers

Does it seem that this field,
Laden with wild thorns and wildflowers,
Mean that thorns would gain power,
Over freshly blooming petals,

And ruin the happiness of nature?

What would then be the meaning of thorns,
Conquering the soft, smelling flowers?
An unnecessary battle fought,
In the field of nature's innocent beauty.

The thorn or the flower,
Together both or not ever.
Vera Sidhwa
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Poems By Poet Vera Sidhwa