Memoirs of a Posy

We are honoured to publish this poem by new contributor Ujwala.  Below, she shares a little bit about her background and inspiration in writing the poem. 

I first arrived in London on November 3rd 2010.  I am a qualified dentist attempting to register here and this is how I got to know about the MRCF.  The organisation has helped me immensely during the exam process and I hope to give back in any way possible.  I love to write, it is my hobby, passion, stress buster, and the written word is probably the best way I communicate.  This is a poem I wrote when I first came here.  I am lucky and didn't endure even a fraction of the hardships that some people have in a new country.  But it was an extremely tough time for me anyway.  Writing this poem helped me cope.  I don't know much about rhyme and meter and I guess you will see that in my poem.  It is about the life of a flower starting from when it was a bud.  I hope you enjoy reading it and I hope it leaves you with a smile.

My first memories are of a murky green haze,
A tiny dwelling I reviewed in a quizzical daze.
Until a nagging buzzing as annoying as can be,
Made me stretch out in an attempt to break free.

Many visitor had I from down below and up overhead,
Wearing coats of many hues, some yellow and black, some green, some red.
Jolly tradesmen bearing their precious cargo with ease,
And colourful gypsies dropped in to dine, entertain and please.

Swaying with the whispers, merry times were those,
Preening for the river and striking a pretty pose.
But good times don't last and mine were at an end,
I was cruelly uprooted, never more to grow or mend.

New places, new faces, but I was never quite the same,
A little weak, very tired, and quite unfortunately lame.
Blurs of motion, endless colours to see,
And many brethren who looked more careworn than me.

One morning I was paraded in garb crinkly and rough,
Gaudy, filmy and transparent, yet extremely tough.
Stifled and cloistered I journeyed many a mile,
But that was the day I was the reason behind a smile.

Now I lay here between bars of black and White,
Flattened, withered and parched, not an encouraging plight
But at least I can vouch that I am better off than most
Today I am remembered and treasured not rotting compost

Some advice you ask? What more can I say
Except don't expect for tomorrow what you have today
And even though your voice may be broken, bitter or hushed,
Be like a flower that gives fragrance even when crushed.