The Croci

By Jay Gandhi

Bindweed And Thread

Him hip in a white T-shirt and purple slacks,
yellow complexion all smiles and come on,

Her sinuous and prickly, ignores his glances,
clingy with her mates all winter.

Come spring he thinks himsen not worth her spit
so hung his sorry self with a sinewy rope. When she hears

Sobs so many tears nowt is dry in her house.
Right sad pair so I makes them into flowers because I can.

He a glad sign of early spring in his saffron crocus glory,
Her bindweed bloom in late spring flowers then bulks bold bright berries.

By Paul Brookes

CROCI

Oh Croci no more do I see you on wine glasses,
nor in wreaths crowned on the heads of joyful
Youths, winter white shawl lies  cold spread out
all over the valley, river runs red with blood  of
Martyrs, the young who still had life to live  and
love, but freedom  lies fettered , glaciers gaze
From snowlines on the peaks, the sun timidly peers
Oh Croci, wake up’ it’s time wake up before death
Plays its tune, in colors blue white and golden yellow
wake up in purple royal, let the golden strands flow
O Croci bring dignity pride and success, and saffron
let the rebirth begin, the season rise with your perfume
The early bird waits on the bare branch silently-
do not despair oh winged warner’ gold will bloom
Oh Croci  come let us be joyful and welcome Spring
many grooms are waiting  for many brides to bring…
O Croci may the prayers be answered may freedom ring’
Let freedom ring…

2019 ©  CER  Anjum Wasim Dar