A COUPLE OF MY POEMS IN ENGLISH

FLOWER-ARRANGEMENT

I'm no good at arranging flowers,
keeping in mind the middle line,
what goes where, front or back,
propping up stems with wet paper,
blending colours,
balance,
the over-all shape.

There's something odd in the art.
I prefer others doing the trick,
making nature look natural by unnatural means,
elevating leaves for support,
disciplining dahlias, daffodils, daises,
regimenting roses
to show their best part.

Flowers sprouting
from vases of china, copper, or glass,
seem to come out of one root,
floating,
no earth attachment.

Savouring these passing pleasures
drying before my very eyes,
I nearly forgot to turn off
the water outside.

JOE SALIBA

RENDEZ-VOUS

When we die,
crossing the road,
saying our prayers,
reading a book,
making love,
having a cup of tea,
watering the garden,
pruning a tree,
awake, asleep,
in health or sickness,
it is that moment
we have waited for,
avoided,
ignored,
or even tried to forget.

It is the point where no roads meet,
when love and hatred don't exist,
no work, no rest,
no joy, no pain,
the pointless moment we let go
of precious life
in which, though full of strife,
we loved to cross
the swelling stream,
have a drink,
see flowers grow,
hold someone dear,
or simply take our beauty sleep
and wake to do the same again,
awaiting,
avoiding,
ignoring,
forgetting,
with every breath,
our rendez-vous with Life or Death.

JOE SALIBA