The English Club

The English Club is a charming little club tucked away in the hearts of its many enchanting and friendly members. The Club is just the right size- not so big such that members are just names without faces, not so small that it cannot make a significant contribution. The club is and always has been willing to take in new members, existing members are warm and welcoming whilst new members that are attracted to the club are full of creative energy. It is the club that allows its members to be creative and also to be appreciated for their creative ventures. The club publishes a journal religiously where both members and non-members can contribute. It’s called English Matters. The club also organized a delightful café reading every now and then whereby fellow students are urged to read out anything they have written or read that maybe of interest. I must say both the journal and the café readings have been very good to me. First English Matters have given me a regular platform to publish my work, and second café reading has made me take the very bold step of reading out my poems to an audience- an audacity I would not have dared taken if not prompted by the kind fellow members. Only recently the latest version of English Matters contained two of my poems and a short story. Below is one of the poems from the magazine.

Teardrop
Farah Tasneem Tracy

A glistening drop of tear on her cheek
too precious to go unnoticed
Capturing miracles and bearing the
burden of misery in its fluid body.
Holding time, holding space
Offering freedom, offering solace
In its solitary existence carrying the
secrets of infinite possibilities
Turning melancholy into a pearl
So delicate- the precious teardrop
It sparkles like the Northern Star
It promises of eternity
It is a tear cried by many
And loved by so many others
Someone lost it in the oceans
Someone found it in the mountains
A cold wind froze the teardrop
Now it rests peacefully on her cheek
A very precious teardrop.

And up next is the poem that I read out at the café reading only yesterday. I sincerely hope the applauses I remember afterwards were not the creation of my imagination.

The bluest blues.
Farah Tasneem Tracy.

Give me pen and paper,
And I will give you a story.
Give me love and pain,
And I will give you poetry.
Give me a word that is your own,
And I will give you the rest of your soul.
Give me a piece of your mind,
And I will make you a garden.
Give me your smile
And I will create music.
Give me a tear and I will make a miracle happen.
Give me your hand and I will give you my world.
Give me your hatred
And…
And I will give you my love!