Take These Sounds Take these sounds – the mumble of distant conversations with its interplay and rhythm – the chirrup and chatter of bird song with its imprint of ancient tunes – a bee that flits from flower to pollen laden flower – add the drone of far off traffic, the passing plane, the
The Coma Patient The flowers died on a Monday. Though I thought their life vibrant on Sunday. They were given to me on Saturday. Though I didn’t see them till Tuesday. For I wasn’t there but here, Sleeping in the darkness. ‘Cause the flowers were given to me on Saturday, And my mother
Baħar (in Maltese) Inbill is-swaba ta’ saqajja fik u int, tbaħbaħli ħsibijieti, tlaħlaħli dmijieti. Nixxaħxaħ fik u niled il-ġwienaħ f’dahri. Mare (in Italian) Immergo le dita dei piedi in te, e tu mi sciacqui i pensieri, mi risciacqui il sangue. Mi avvolgo in te e faccio nascere ali sulla schiena.
Whisper if my life is no more than a whisper that moves across this patient earth let me always be a smile she will remember let her thoughts of me be an idle dream on the day I am forgotten by those who promised love they could not give who tested my