These poems were submitted mostly by our visitors, some of them in Maltese.

They can be happy or sad, romantic or sweet.
Some may sweep you off your feet.
Writing them requires the muse.
Contribute and express your views. (Hey I tried!)

If you would like to submit a poem or even your own song lyrics send them to:

Poem To Malta from Canadian Lesbian

I want to return to a quite place
A place where I have been
where I felt I have "lived"
where I have loved
I want to return to a place that is calm
where the blue sky meets the soft sea
where the heat of the sun warms your body and soul
I want to return to a place where I found peace
where my heart felt complete
where I felt the comfort of faith
I want to return to my church
Malta

J. R. August 1999

BARREN

Embryonic dreams fill up my vacuum,
As childless, I walk towards the sun.
Remembrance and forgiveness I still cherish,
But the ache and pain will not be undone.

I took pleasure in being evil,
When young, I burnt the hearts of strangers,
Now I stand all alone and feeble,
Who will care for me when in danger?

Once, I remember, the dust of the centuries covered me,
And I writhed and crawled until I was set free,
The bones have been destroyed in my closet,
But that animal nature still lives inside me.

I request a voice in the dark,
Foreign and strange, I demand a sign,
Be it whisper or shout is irrelevant,
I just do not want my soul to die.

Nory

CREATION

What is creation?
Just soil and seas and a beating heart,
Decay and foreboding,
A recycling of strength.

You were my creation,
But now you have spread your wings;
I was your only consolation,
But your flame was put out by tears.

I am an icicle of emotions.
My wind blows strong and unmerciful,
My questions brink insanity,
And the harvest is burnt by my foe, the sun.

Lessons are often stupid soliloquies,
And triumph is a blatant fear of inferiority,
My sweetness is twisted in its complacency,
And forever now seems far too far.

What is commitment but a telltale sign,
Of maturity and regret seeping in,
And you run in the search for devotion,
Embracing adventures and yearning for thrills.

The years are a load on my shoulders,
And I yearn for my foetal bliss,
My desire is to swim, inundated,
In the security and warmth of the womb.

Nory

Nory

Untitled

l-enimma tal-ħajja poeżija
bħall-qamar filgħaxija
u d-dell fuq wiċċek jixgħel
mal-laqta tar-raġġ ħelu
li jmissek b'dawl fiddien
iwasslek biex tinduna
li l-qamar huwa jien.

Alec Toarp