Poems for Elvis Sihoi
***
So much worries
Run through my mind,
He becomes too big
To sit on my lap,
He runs too fast
To catch him
And stroke his
Little cheeks
He turns into a bird
Gradually
Wishing to explore the world
That opens
In front of his eyes
I’m afraid
Of losing him.
28/12/23
This poem was written after Beehive Poetry night at Josef's K cafe. I listened to an Iranian poetess Samar Shahdad two poems which she translated in English. She seemed to me so amazing poetess my poems appeared nothing against her poems in my understanding. So this poem came into my mind.
I read it at Rhubarb Poetry Night, at The Triangle pub, Shipley, Bradford, England on 27/03/24 and in the Serendipity Extraordinary Ordinary anthology book launch at Lawrence Batley Theatre on 21/04/24.
I won’t be remembered as a poet here. I’ll be forgotten - quietly.
Sun will fade my name away and dust will cover its footprints.
They won’t read my poems. I wasn't famous here.
From pages where blue ink will leave evidence of my presence,
They will make airplanes
And kites.
But maybe somebody will remember me
As a guy who hung out with a kid
Here.
Somebody might say, the boy was his son.
Famously named as Elvis.
I might be remembered sitting in a café’s corner
And talking to him in a foreign language.
I might be famous
For a split of a second
In somebodies memory for letting Elvis
Wrap his little arms
Around my neck,
Putting his crumpled paper tissue,
Silver teaspoon and ruler
behind my terracotta jumper
While somebody else were reading their poems
Here.
18/03/24
***
This poem was quoted at Batley Library, Batley Poetry evening on 18/11/23, England
I am the sun
That rises up
Before you,
I am the morning dew
That always
Feeds you,
I am the dusty road
That leads you,
And it's all
Because of you.
You are my heartbeat,
You are my meaning,
You are my daylight,
And it's all
Because of you.
29/05/23
***
I created this poem being inspired by the workshop ‘Blue is the light that got lost…’ hosted by Gaia Holmes. Kings Cross Library, Halifax, England. I attended it on 09/03/24.
I read it on Beehive Poetry evening at Josef's K Cafe in Bradford on 15/04/24 and in the Serendipity Extraordinary Ordinary anthology book launch at Lawrence Batley Theatre on 21/04/24.
The light goes off,
Smokey blue overlaps gold.
I can’t see him,
His voice,
His breath,
His hushed moves,
Tells me,
He is there.
He feels secure
Seeing my
Pitch blue shadow,
Hearing
Lazily cracking chair,
My voice
Singing him a lullaby,
He falls asleep,
Knowing,
I’m next to him.
09/03/24
***
The poem is written at Gaia Holmes’s workshop at King Cross Library, Halifax
He looks at me with blueberry in his hands
Rolling it in his tiny fingers
Being not aware it might drop on the floor,
Not knowing that his mum might burst into a scream of horror
Seeing pressures berry being wasted
He smiles and laughs singing La-la-la
He shakes his legs. His trainers clatter on the floor.
His eyes deep brown as blueberry in his little hands
I see he is reading my eyes maybe musing
They look like grey berries. His little heart
Absorbs the juice of love and happiness
And I can see he cannot have enough of the safety he receives from my eyes.
11/05/24