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mother outburst Poetry smile triumphant.

I Adhere To My Mother’s Advice


The way I was brought up.


Where have you been?

quoth my mother

I go nowhere she knows throughout

still she asks so day in and day out.

A strict mother she was all through

her eyes always behind me

none could escape her watch

quick she was able to catch.

A good taskmaster she had been

rigorous in her coaching of subjects

excelled she in grammar and language

a small tense  mistake was enough to enrage.

Drew she so well and beautiful

taught me the lines and sketch

I proved a perfect foil

her chidings forced  me to recoil.

Music was her strength  and passion

an accomplished veena player she   was

I rose up to a level of  expectations

never did I indulge in any improvisations.

Listened to her always with attention

the determination was her forte

much more did I yearn  to be like her  in all

could not reach her heights  being a call.

The advice I received was not one  in the flow

it was  much idealism I imbibed from her

the most relevant being to be firm all through

whatever might be the course in true.

It happened so on one  occasion

I broke down and cried all the way

unable to bear me crying so bitterly

she  embraced me so warmly.

Never did she ask the reason

kept patting me for long

her fingers flowed through my hair

that way she extended care.

I folded and fell on her lap

only to be cajoled and coaxed all the more

I could not suppress my outburst

out came my hurt in expressions, not the best.

Having  declared as the first rank holder

with a gold medal to deign forth

I came to know there was another one in the helm

being slotted to the coveted status of the realm.

My heart tore apart with a fierce disappointment

so far I was the only one in the field

how did another come up so sudden

left me in an unusual burden.

Hoping my mother would cry with me

looked up to find her reaction

smiled she with a condescendence

a little twinkle flashed with a reference.

She took my arms with such affection

squeezed my hand with a feeling

” buck up my child”mother comforting daughter  she broke the silence

you are still in the race more so in reverence.

Competition is always there in life

win or lose is the game  we see all through

you have won  and you would be triumphant

if you embolden and stay away from being rampant.

I did succeed that entry with flying colours

many more laurels came in my way

why the mother I loved so much turned hostile

yet I pursued  with a diligence and succeeded in an exile.

“I am participating in the #SachchiAdvice Contest by MaxLife in Association with BlogAdda.”

By meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

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