Stacey Pinto

Stacey Pinto Poems

Stacey Pinto Biography

living in abu dhabi, uae since birth. studying in 12th nw. probably my last yr over here, den i'll continue studies in india thinking of what made me write; dnt think my poems are dat good, dat i can use da word inspired. but a frnd of mine, alan da name...wen i read his poems...i thot 2 myslef hw kool it is...hw words can be out so well 2gether and have strength enough 2 move you. so thot y dnt i try; jus give it a shot and telling da truth nw dat i read my 1st 2 or 3 poems...i say 2 myself...wow dat was sure bad...but da poems after dat were gud..cause i think wat i started off as jus some try...i carried it on 2 let out some pain....things i write come out of experience...but i even write abt wat i've not felt. dats prettie much abt me writing poems. thanx for stopping by)

The Best Poem Of Stacey Pinto

She

That early hour
when dawn was breaking
she closed her eyes
others were sleeping
not one awake
when God's messenger
came on a chariot
and took her life away.

She lived her life well
lived a life of honour
with dignity, one worth respect
And at 72 she looked
younger, hair not white
still turning grey
thick and long, my mom envied

A nurse, that she was
she worked at having
the poor and the needy
live a healthier life
while at the same time
caressing a world of her own.

A mother of seven
she lived among the poor
herself not quite rich.
With a nurse's living those days
she struggled hard
to make both ends meet.
But yet she had seven lovely
children, those who gave her strength,
those who were her pride.

I think of her
she is always part of life.

I was a kid then
memories of a childhood
but yet no memories
no memories - because I
remember never growing up
I remember not knowing
what things were or why they were.

I remember of tin loads
of used injections thrown out,
not to be used again
I remember me with my cousins
sneaking them out when no-one looked
I remember still how I used to think
trees needed medication
and used to poke them
with those injections.
But never did I realize
why they were in that tin
that she suffered everyday
that she was ill;
so ill that her disease
required more, much more
than those tin loads of medication.

I always wished I knew her more
always wished that she liked me
like she did my other cousins
She always did, now I know.

I remember seeing her in tubes,
and knowing she was sick
but not knowing how sick
I remember playing around
laughing, when she lay still
not able to move an inch

And I remember that day before
she died,
when she barely moved,
barely spoke
I gave her that smile,
the kind of smile that comes
from a child knowing of
of all the happiness in the world;
smiling with nothing to fear
nothing to worry about.
And she gave me back
that child-like smile
the only time when
her lips moved that day.

I'll never forget it,
I can still close my eyes
and remember every detail
on her face so clearly;
For that one moment, I felt
special, more special than
anything else could ever make me feel.

I wish I knew she'd die soon
I promise I would have been awake
I promise I’d be with her
But God would have it his way.

And still I remember seeing her
in the coffin,
surprised to see her body so lifeless,
and I know of me blushing
with embarrassment,
when my aunt asked me,
'where has she gone? '
I didn't have an answer
I didn't know,
nor did my face show
emotion of any sort.
Cause I was then a kid
in a different world
not knowing what was appropriate
not knowing how to fake sadness
not knowing to show your feelings
out the right way.

The service too, I sat in church
not knowing why things were that way
I remember seeing so many people;
me thinking to myself,
'I wish I’d be liked like her
so that when I passed away
people would miss me so much'

She left this world
but left back all that she made
all that she built block by block
piling one on the other
And she left me memories
memories but yet no memories.
But what went along with her
was her dignity, her respect
one I’ll admire all my life.

Her I called my grandmother
and this I write - her story
told in my words,
with every line wishing
I was older then;
Cause at that early hour
I was just an innocent child
still in bed.

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