Man’s Best Friend

verse 1315f

by Angela Lansbury

 

Why do they say dog’s man’s best friend?

Also a woman’s, girl’s or boy’s?

A dog stays your friend ’til life’s end

Through ups and downs, restores life’s joys:

It wags its tail when you arrive

It doesn’t mind if you are slow

It’s happy just to be alive

Its eyes say sorry you must go

You are warmly invited to a talk about the fantasy genre:

Time: 19.45, Date: Thursday, 5th September 2013

Venue:

Kenton Room

Harrow Arts Centre
Uxbridge Road
Hatch End
Middlesex
HA5 4EA

Dave Weaver

Dave Weaver says "I am a writer of both short and long stories. My first novel, 'Jacey's Kingdom' was electronically published by Elsewhen Press on 11th January 2013. I am also quite tall. OK, very tall. Hence my catchy blog heading (Dave Weavers Tall Tales). Yeah, I know it's lame, but hopefully you'll find my stories aren't. There are three collections of them all downloadable from Amazon Kindle. Plus, there are connections to various short stories of mine published in anthologies and e-collections".

Dave will talk about his novel and the journey to publication that he traveled and he will also talk about the fantasy genre and what he calls "mental displacement stories. After that the group will have an interactive discussion on the slippery nature of reality as shown in these works, and maybe a more general debate on fantasy writing.  It promises to be a very interesting evening all round.

My Smiling Photo

(verse 1313)

by Angela Lansbury

This photo shows a sunlit beach 

Leaning palms and golden sand 

That pretty, young girl must be me 

Smiling, walking hand-in-hand 

One brief holiday in heaven 

Santanned, hand held, a soft kiss 

That short white dress, my white sunhat 

Barefoot, feel sand, sensual bliss 

Tilt the brim of my white sunhat 

Shield one eye, so entrancing 

I recall beach bars with loud bands 

Where I kept slim by dancing 

Back home I wrote, ‘Come to London!’ 

He wrote, ‘I don’t live alone.’ 

So the romance we shared ended

In the cold, chill light of home

But I still have that old photo

He and I walk on the beach

‘though friends and lovers come and go

Joyful recall’s still in reach

If I met him now, he’d be old 

It just wouldn’t be the same 

But I fondly clutch my photo 

Seeing my smile cancels pain.  

-ends-

copyright Angela Lansbury

 

YOUNG APRIL MONTH

The pregnant blooms
Of the young April month
Laden and bursting forth
Plump, pink upon pink
‘Tis the full lipped smile of God
Against the flush of a blue sky.

I travel further into the hedgerows
Deeper, deeper, deeper within
And find myself smeared
By dollops of mustard yellow flowers
Oozing out of the spinach green
Of England’s velvety landscape.

Behold! What a sight
That despaired me so
To cease my journey weary
And marvel at this array.

I stand in wonderment
And wish to kiss
the brush
Of the one who painted
The gush
of colour before me.

The fusion, the mess, so prettily applied
To stun and to maim, any passer-by
Who painted England in green and yellow?
It’s heaven brought down for the mortal eye.

© Meena Tah 2013

Maggie

When I saw the news about you, Maggie, on Facebook,
I immediately passed it on to friends;
like a quick joke with an easy punchline
that anyone might enjoy. Then learning
that you lived your last at the Ritz,
I thought, well, that says a lot
about the legacy of care you’ve left
for older people in this country.

I dig my memory, to find your place in it,
And it slowly dawns, how your dogma
dogged my childhood, and your bouffant
over-shadowed my teens.
“A Libran, just like dad” mum would tease;
we’d see his nostrils flare. But somehow
we knew not to mock you beyond our four walls,
as many around us during those years -
neighbours, family, schoolfriends’ parents -
continued, quietly, ticking the Tory box; sanctioning
three times your steely rule.

In the 80’s we had the news on nightly,
And I learnt names like Goose Green and Stanley.
One summer, one night, on our 3rd year Juniors trip
to Cwm Pennant in Wales - after dubbing boots
and scoffing our jam sandwich supper,
Mrs Broadribb in pink hand-knitted mohair
came up to our dormitory: “Wonderful news children!
The Argentinians have surrendered!” and all my classmates cheered,
it was like the Jubilee.
I felt left out as I watched victorious 9 year olds
jumping on bunks, and heard dad’s disgust ring in my ears,
“What does Britain want with an island 8000 miles away?”
The Libran’s sense of natural justice, for seeing both sides,
yet you, Mrs T, were never one for turning.

Today, I feel detached from the tributes and the vitriol.
Powerless to prevent your lavish state funeral: spare me the details of who’s attending and what they have to say.
Your time on earth has passed Maggie, you left your job well done.
And now like the silent pit machinery, there’s nowt left for you to do.
This time next week you’ll be more buried than the Belgrano.


©Tazeem Moledina 2013

Nineteen - Amynah Bhanji

Nineteen is when age is a number
And maturity is remote.
Nineteen is when you are passionate about life
And you know that nothing can ever go wrong.

Nineteen is when the body is vibrant
And growing old is distant.
Nineteen is when your face is bright
And you know that wrinkles can never get you.

Nineteen is when the mind is sharp
And forgetfulness is far away.
Nineteen is when you are lively
And you know that misery can never touch you,

Nineteen is when the spirit is adventurous
And no one can hold you back.
Nineteen is when the soul is free
And you know that freedom can never forsake you.

How I wish I was nineteen again....

Amynah Bhanji(April 2013)

Amynah Bhanji

‘I don't know syndrome’
A new class comes in and I make a very big mistake! I ask them "can you add up to 100?" "No Miss" they chorus, very cheerful and absolutely convincingly.
What do I do now?

A Thought on Poem

Thought for the Day

“Always learn poems by heart.
They have to become the marrow in your bones.
Like fluoride in the water,
they’ll make your soul impervious
to the world’s soft decay.”

~ Janet Fitch

Janet Fitch (born November 9, 1955) An american writer, teacher and lecturer, most famously known as the author of White Oleander, which became a film in 2002.

Rush Hour in an Underground Train

Standing, standing in an underground train,

A daily trip that has become life's bane,

Trying hard to avoid the blank stares,

From people like me who have all paid full fares,

To stand all the way to the station nearest work,

For to get a seat is definitely a perk.

Reading a newspaper, Kindle or books,

Still desperately trying to avoid those horrible looks,

Searching furtively for a seat - station after station,

Alas no luck for the entire duration.

Hanging onto the rails like monkeys in a cage,

Being careful not to explode into a furious rage,

Grimacing at every cough and sneeze,

Praying they get off at the next stop please!

Bumping into the suitcases, shoulder bags and rucksacks,

As the train lurches on and on through its endless tracks.

Congestion ahead, waiting for a green signal or empty platform,

As the voice of the driver sometimes tries to inform,

And we hide our groans at these further delays,

Hot and bothered as we are stuck between various subways.

Packed tighter than sardines in a can,

For a journey that is not fit for a woman or man,

Looking lost, forlorn and totally withdrawn,

Bored and fed up – all we can do is yawn.

Carcasses, bodies, souls and all,

As the train continues its endless trawl,

Making sure we don’t step on any toes,

For fear of making any loud and embarrassing foes.

The journey slowly and painfully nears its end,

As we all anxiously prepare to descend,

But there is only one final thought consuming my brain,

Soon again I will be standing, standing in an underground train.

© Victor Mamtora 

An Obituary of a Character

This Creative Writing piece on a character's Obituary tells us a bit more about the character and possible idea for a story. Please see the hand out given at the end of the Character Building presentation by Sheila Gumpright on 20th September 2012. 

            

Robin Wright’s Last Rite at 58

Harrow, Greater London   21 Sept. 2012.

The ‘Cancer Guru’ Robin Wright, died in Anderson Cancer Center, Texas, aged 58, had his last rite in Ruislip Crematorium near his birth place with the fire lit by his son in Hindu ritual.

Affectionately called by the medical world as the ‘Cancer Guru’, Robin Wright went to Oxford to study medicine after his father died of cancer at the age of 50. Born in Pinner Village in Greater London to devoted Irish Catholic parents, Robin,as a school boy showed his talent by becoming the youngest Head Boy, football captain, the lead musician/singer and school representative for charitable activities. A mild-mannered, easy going and only child of the family, young Wright won everyone’s hearts at Nowerhill High School and in the local community except one 14-year old Muslim girl in his class who was not allowed to reciprocate the affection of a Kafir [non-Muslim] boy. He was completely devastated when that girl got engaged to her first cousin and went to Pakistan to complete the traditional Muslim marriage ceremony.

Heart-broken, lost and depressed young-boy Wright could not see the meaning of life any more. So one late Sunday afternoon in that summer he broke open his mum’s cash box and picked up his dad’s purse, grabbed all the money he could and left for India without telling anything to anyone. He knew and liked India as he visited the country with his school friend, Barnab, who has their ancestral home in a holy place called, Benaras. The story goes that while in India, young-boy Wright shaved his head, went to the Hare Krishna Consciousness Centre and following his hero Beatles, George Harrison, converted to Hinduism [hence Hindu cremation, as he wished, like his hero Beatles, George Harrison].

 

As if the teen-age love-lost heartache wasn’t enough, back in Harrow and at St Dominic’s Six Form College, Wright got his biggest blow of his life when his beloved father passed away with colon cancer at the age of 50. His father’s death completely destroyed teenage Wright, he was completely lost. He decided to pack up his studies and to go back to India for spiritual solitude. Fortunately, the College Principal, Father Gregory, persuaded Wright to continue with his studies and encouraged him to study medicine. As a determined and bloody-minded individual, Wright promised to himself to become a cancer specialist and fight the cancer that killed his dear father.

That seed of determination was sown at the University when bright young Wright secured a handsome scholarship to study medicine at Oxford Medical College. Wright always had extraordinary determination to achieve any set goals and with this bloody-mindedness that he completed his medical science degree with distinction/gold medal. And it was there at Oxford that Wright met his match, his classmate, his dream love and future wife, Rupali, coincidentally, from India. They got married in 1985 with a lavish and colourful Indian-style wedding ceremony in an old Maharaja’s palace that lasted three long days and nights.

Life wasn’t always colourful and happy for Wright as his once loving and now lonely widowed mother was wooed away  and coerced into marrying a Middle-eastern business man who already had a harem of wives. And once out of the country Wright never heard from her beloved mother again and that pain of loss remained with him forever as he mentioned this many a times to his large number of friends in many parts of the world. One thing, however, had always been in the forefront of his mind and heart was his dedication for the care of cancer sufferers and his determination to find a cure for cancer. This passionate positive mental attitude [or as he used to say PPMA]  led him onto the world of cancer research and travelling to and living in many different countries. Fortunately, this ‘wandering’ life-style didn't affect the family-man, Wright’s family-life as his wife, Rupali was also a world-famous gynaecologist who always joined him in his travel. And they didn't put their two children, one boy and one girl, to boarding schools in England, as they wanted to enjoy their growing-up in their presence. This arrangement worked very well for the family as they followed their own career/life aim while children were growing up in different cultures and educational/social systems [they were adamant that children became better citizens of the world rather than a shallow pond fish].

Wright’s contribution to finding a cure to cancer is ‘enormous and un-measurable’ say his colleagues and fellow professionals. He pioneered the early detection techniques and the analysis of cancerous tissues/cells before it becomes a cancerous lump/tumour. This revolutionary technique saved thousands of prospective cancer victims from dying a slow and painful death, the profession agree. But why is he not so well-known outside his profession and why hasn’t he got a Nobel Prize, one might wonder! Why indeed! Wright would not engage in such a conversation, but his colleagues had spoken for him. They said that Wright was a bloody-minded man and he consistently refused to leave his research duty [never called it a job] and work for any multinational money-making pharmaceutical companies. Thus Wright lost a lot of support from many rich and powerful prospective sponsors at very high places. No wonder Wright’s own achievement in finding a cure for cancer does not match with his low public profile outside his profession caused by the actions/inactions of a few greedy, rich and power-hungry individuals in this world. As Wright used to say, it didn’t change his ‘tiny world of cancer cure and research’.

He is survived by his only wife, Rupali 55, son 25, a doctor and daughter 23, a medical student.

‘Cancer Guru’ Robin James Wright, born April 01 1953, Harrow, Greater London died  20 September 2012, Anderson Cancer Center, Houston, Texas.

filename:arundebnath-creativewriting-obituary 20120921

Character Creating template

This is the hand out given out at the Character Building presentation by Sheila Gumpright on 20 Sept. 212 

Creative Writing Character Building template

Story idea/title --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Character 1 : Male

Naming the character : give a simple name, easy to pronounce and remember and the one you like  – Robin Ray [or Day or Wright or Bishop, Reilly, Johnson or]

Life history :

Where born – Northwick Park Hospital in Harrow, NW London, England.

What sort of kid was he – the only child, a little chubby, always smiling always busy doing one thing after another, loved school ground football, his classmates loved to hang around him, he was very popular amongst his peers he always took the lead role in the school ground, they thought him to be their leader who can sort any problems out for them, Robin became the Head Boy in the Middle school, mad about Manchester United Football Club

Best school friends – Barnab, Ricky, Daniel

What were his parents like – parents were born in Northern Ireland [a territory of the UK], now live in a conservation area of leafy Pinner Village in Harrow, father  John and mother Marie, both were very friendly and smiley- specially John, mother landscape designer, father a high flier,  head of programming for IMB.

Physical aspects of the character :

Height and appearance : six feet and six inches tall, stout built with strong mussels – with the feature of a Greek God?

Weight : sixty nine kilograms

Hair : thick dark blackish brown

Eye :  colour shape/size  - big bright/intelligent/cheeky looking light blue-greyish

Age: at the time of  the story - twenty eight years old

Temperament : tolerant, doesn’t get angry unless physically threatened

Moral/ethical/religious beliefs: born in a Catholic family but doesn’t practice any religious rites or go to church, believe in universal humanity and human rights but rejects in Brussels bureaucracy, support controlled migration and asylum seeking, strongly supports green ideas/policies, rejects cruelty to animals and mammals including seals and whales culling, supports charities eg. Cancer Research, Save the
Children, Oxfam etc

Political stance: Left-oriented but doesn’t like Communism and strongly against the current Communist leaders in the world, believe in democracy and supports democratic activities, women’s rights/equality, feels helpless with UN stance on mass killings by dictators or occupied territories like Gaza, Tibet, Syria, etc

Hobbies : Loves swimming, scuba diving, gardening and playing golf, enjoy watching cricket, football, rugby, motor sports and horse racing,

Likes pets? Had a puppy-friend and when it was killed on the road outside their quite home area  never wants to see another pet in the house, except tropical fish and hope to have a large marine aquarium with all those colourful fishes and coral etc

Habits – Early riser, morning shower and twelve minutes’ meditation session in the morning, must have toasts with Marmite for breakfast, can’t go to sleep without reading and listening to classical music

Strengths – strong traits: have strong positive mental attitude, doesn’t give up until humanly impossible to achieve/do, a bit bloody minded, occasionally arrogant

Quirks – strongly opinionated in all matters outside his expertise/knowledge

Eccentricities- despite having a large garden keeps hundreds of big/small pots for planting shrubs/flowers and move them around the patio and front/back gardens; loves/mad about colours and lights and have them in abundance in house/gardens.

Glaring weaknesses: the greatest procrastinator for mundane jobs, goes over the top for the loved ones or the child on the street, too idealist [hope to change the world and kill off corruption/dictatorships in many countries of the world]

Likes : a good chat/hot discussion on pet topics like home/international politics, football/cricket/gardening, religious exploitation/bogus asylums/benefit cheating

Dislikes : Prejudice, discrimination, exploitation, war, class system, spicy food

Fears or phobias: snakes, living alone, height – fear of falling

Short and long term goals: ST goals – getting the Fellowship of the Royal College of Surgeons, cancer  research at Harvard, travelling around the world. LT goals – get a research scholarship on lung cancer prevention/cure, fall in love with a wonder woman, get a small house with big gardens by a canal, have two children

Hopes and dreams : to see a politically/religiously/economically settled and  harmonised humanity in the world

Mannerism: mild mannered, polite, smile a lot – even when in disagreement/dislikes something

Relationships, invent first loves : fell ‘madly in love’ at secondary school with a ‘dream girl’ that lasted for long seven months when she emigrated to Australia/India/America without even saying a goodbye –and that was that!

Professions, what was their education, their career - Robin did medicine at Oxford with distinction, studying for Fellowship of the RCS, hope to do research in lung cancer prevention/cure 

Conflicts/moments of change – be imaginative, credible key events, make them complicated, make them outstanding, what are the consequences?  - while at Oxford he lost his father at the age of 49 with painful lung cancer, mother [a Catholic] converted to Islam when she married a man from Morocco with three other wives,

Life experience, first jobs, epiphanies and major life events, experiences when the character’s world changed irreversibly, moments of insight or despair - Robin grew into an ‘experienced/wise/aged’ man within a space of seven months since his father’s death and mother’s desertion.

Ethnicity – London born English of Northern Irish parental roots and has strong allegiance to NI and its culture/heritage.

Social class –  middle class [but he dislikes labelling by any class] living in a well-to-do conservation area with good disposable family income – father’s Directorial job with IBM and mother’s landscaping business

Character’s fears, motivations  - fear of failure or underachievement that also spur him on to greater achievement/success

Some secrets about the character that make him/her little mysterious and let the readers read and discover something between the lines – readers love this.

Biggest secret - fear of rejection in approaching his dream ‘wonder woman’

Where they live now, where they travel – live in an old detached big house in leafy conservation area in Pinner Village in Harrow, greater London, England. They travel a lot to see family and friends in Northern Ireland, USA and Canada. Visited India a few times with his best school friend Barnab  who has ancestral houses there . Robin and family love golf and take golfing holidays to Spain, Portugal and Scotland.

Wants and goals of the character and conflicts/difficulties in achieving them – it’s how the character deals with his/her obstacles that defines them  - Robin wants to [1] devote his career to find cure for cancer that killed his dear father and [2] fall in love/marry the Indian Princes he met at Oxford while studying medicine –but consider possible  obstacles/complications in achieving his life goals and ultimately how he tackles all these issues, ultimate results – success/failure/mixture of both? – the more emotionally enriched/charged  the better the reader experience

Likes and dislikes of character – likes and dislikes are often shadow of each other e.g. if I like freedom I’m likely to dislike authority or if I like rose garden I’m unlikely to be fan of aphids.

A list of quirks :  good habits/bad habits or just things the character can’t stop doing without some serious discipline or counselling e.g. drugs addiction or nail biting or any other specific mannerism?

 

Archetypal symbols associated with the character – something that considered to be a perfect example of a particular kind of person having all their important characteristics e.g. he is an archetypal of a modern journalist, Beatles are the archetypal of a top pop group – Robin is the archetypal of modern day Albert Einstein in cancer research?

Use body language :

Facial expression including eye contact – a smile, a frown, a scowl; eye contact is direct and powerful, the eyes are always talking, eyes are so transparent that one can see the soul, nothing builds trust and rapport as effectively as eye contact, in USA direct eye contact is considered a sign of honesty and trustworthiness; a hard, unblinking stare send a different message.

Gestures – fidgeting shows boredom and restlessness; pressing fingers together to form a steeple shows interests, assertiveness and determination; touching the nose or rubbing eyes indicates discomfort, or it may even be a signal that the character is not being completely honest; a hand to the back of the neck may indicate withdrawal from a conversation.

Posture – interested people always pay attention and lean forward, leaning backward demonstrate aloofness or rejection; a firm handshake will give the impression of assertiveness or honesty; folding arms across the chest of body is protective and will give the impression of a character who’s closed, guarded and defensive; people with arms folded, legs crossed and bodies turned away are signalling that they are rejecting messages; a head held straight up signals a neutral attitude; a head tilted to the side indicates interest; a head down is negative and judgemental.

Space – [consider cultural differences] :  intimate distance, personal distance, social distance and public distance. In a group when one turns toward the speaker this conveys attention; competitors are more likely to sit face to face, collaborators are more likely to sit side by side and if one stands up and speaks he sends a message of dominance which can stifle free exchange of ideas. 

Note : Chicken or the egg? As you CREATE your life-like character you will most likely build up story ideas in your head – without even realising it.

As a writer you know everything there is be known about YOUR character that you CREATED . But you don’t need to give everything away – keep something with you and let the readers ‘discover’ them between the lines. It enhances their reading pleasure. 

filename : arundebnath-characterbuilding-template 200912 

Arrival

Chapter Two

ARRIVAL

I still remember as if it was yesterday that very first trip to Iran.

On a not particularly warm July day in 1979 I boarded a plane at Heathrow airport bound for the city where my fiancé Siamak was waiting for me. Siamak was already in Tehran. We had both left on the same day but Siamak had got a direct flight with Iran with a forty percent discount because he was an Iranian student whereas I was taking an Aeroflot flight much cheaper than any of the other flights but with a stopover on the way in Moscow. I had been told that the stopover would be 3 hours but on arrival in Moscow our passports were taken away from us and we, the passengers, were transported to an Aeroflot hotel in the centre of Moscow for the night. The flight to Tehran does not leave until tomorrow morning we were told so you will stay the night in an Aeroflot Hotel. The Hotel was in the centre of Moscow so we were transported by coach to the hotel.

Why self-publish?

I didn't start out intending to self-publish my work. Like many writers, I'd dreamed of huge advances from a generous and grateful publisher. But after a while, like many writers, I realised that my voice wouldn't be heard unless my book was the next guaranteed blockbuster (Da Vinci Code/Shades of Grey/Dragon Tatoo), or unless I already had a high public profile. Or, ideally, both.

But friends, colleagues, and family were generous in their praise and encouragement, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. You can see the result here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B008LD4SX8. The reaction has been overwhelmingly positive, but also rather humbling.
Self-publishing with Kindle Direct Publishing was remarkably straightforward, and I'd recommend it to anyone. I only wish I'd done it sooner.

If you'd like to follow my adventures (and yes, it is proving to be an adventure) here's a link to my brand new blog: http://howardmellowes.blogspot.co.uk/

Memories

This summer mother and I went to Dublin.

Mother had wished for quite some time to visit the Emerald Isles and so it was great that we finally made it.

One of the characteristics of Irish people are that they are naturally very friendly and welcoming and this friendliness and welcome was abundant everywhere we went.

A small example could be - if you needed change for the bus most shops were willing to oblige -whereby my usual non Irish experience is that you would have to make a purchase at a shop or visit a bank to get change.

One evening we went to the Brazen Head pub a pub which had been in existence since the 12^th century – the evening was an Irish storytelling and folk lore night.

Among the stories Johnny told us was that the Irish historically were very concerned that when the sun disappeared would it come back again?  We were told that the early Christians probably put a symbol of the Sun (round circle) together with the Christian Cross in the traditional Celtic Cross symbol (incorporating pagan and Christian beliefs).

Another story was of the Irish potato famine where among a population of eight million one million perished.  Johnny told us that the potato famine was so severe that many more may have perished – but if a village ran out of food they were fed by a neighbouring village – so it was important to help each other for mutual benefit.

Many Irish people went to live in America and from the American Irish point of view they never forgot their roots and remembered to send money back to their homeland.

The Irish who opted to stay in Ireland also played their part in keeping an open door / heart to the Irish Diaspora.  One touching symbol was that the Irish President keeps a candle continually burning in a window of the Irish Presidential Palace.  The candle symbol (ironically also used by Unitarians) is there to symbolise that the Irish Diaspora have not been forgotten and that they are always welcome back in Ireland.

In conclusion there are many things to learn from the Irish – Natural friendliness (a stranger is friend who you have never met before), when there are two or more religions it’s best to find accommodation / commonality between them to maintain peace and prosperity, love thy neighbour (how the villages assisted each other in times of trouble), the candle symbol (keeping in touch with the wider family and letting them know – that though they are far away they is always a place for them at home / in your heart).

Word count: 450

Date: 24 June 2012

© Indra Sikdar

19th July Blog

 

For the last few weeks .....or is it months?........I have been moving house. In another lifetime I moved house over 20 times but this has been very different. I have had to off load most of my past -and am feeling much lighter as a consequence. It is a strange feeling to walk past a charity shop and see some of my things, and those of my mother, very familiar and once very dear to us, perched on shelves and looking for a new owner.

 

It has also been a joy to give some things to people who, new to this country, have very little, and see treasure in objects that this affluent society passes over.

 

I once nursed a lady who, taking leave of absence from her sick bed, gave away all her belongings, one by one, to the local villagers, because she wanted to make her gifts with warm hands and not cold ones. I feel a bit like that now, not that I plan an imminent demise, but when it happens there won't be too much left to sort out for my family.

 

So, although this blog may seem a bit sombre, inside me I am having a little skip of happiness.

The Gardener

Oh Gardener,

In the garden of life my heart craves,

In the garden of life my soul desires.

Oh Gardener,

Prepare my heart with seeds of love,

Plant my soul with drops of wisdom.

Oh Gardener,

Water my heart with flowing happiness,

Prune my soul with cherishing joyfulness.

Oh Gardener,

Protect my heart with laughing memories,

Nurture my soul with dancing emotions.

Oh Gardener,

Plough my heart with plentiful light,

Cultivate my soul with colourful bright.

Oh Gardener,

Blossom my heart with soft eloquence,

Flower my soul with cool embrace.

Oh Gardener,

In the garden of life my heart is satiated,

In the garden of life my soul has unfolded.

Written by

Miss Amynah Bhanji

Harrow Writers Circle

July 8, 2012