I have a son
who is always fun
climbs he on the trees
calls from there cheese
jumps down with a thud
tramps on the plants with buds
runs up to the road fast
turns back without a cast
plays on the heap of sand
rolls down with a noisy land
it is curious to see him play
Oh, I have forgotten all the more
the son of mine is young no longer
he is a responsible father now
his son would play the same way as of now.
Tag: son
The mother in you twinkles
I see a sparkle
and also a trickle.
The mother in you smiles
effortlessly you cross the miles
carry a record of activity in files
The mother in you beams
as you see the order in a stream
and walk with a dream.
The mother in you stands tall
as your children listen to your call
you glide through in ease without a fall.
That be the mother in you at last
a name to reckon with in a cast
up goes your fame all fast.
There ends my eulogy of you
that be the mother in you
a shrine of values true.
Categories
Did I Not?
Did I not tell you?
said the mother to her son
Did I not warn you?
said the mother to her daughter.
Did I not bear with you?
said the tired wife to her husband.
How many did I not?
I hear all around
I throw my towels
that be the last
Did I not?
Categories
The Way It Goes.
Obsessed by thoughts
mostly of my ancestors
more of my grandmother
on the maternal side
these two days I dwell
gathering the anecdotes
told by mother in my teenage
a kind woman she was
short in stature
tall in thoughts
patient and stoic was she
been so quick in handling with tact.
The time of the inauguration
of her husband’s first spinning mill
which was the seed of his industrial empire
her two –
year old son died
she kept it within herself
never cried or broke down
lest her husband would be distracted
held the child in her arms
close to her bosom tight
the man came home stood there she sullen
with a warm smile all the more
relaxed he with a cup of tea
shared her grief with him
on one side was his commercial gain
on the other was his personal loss
prosperity and tragedy coincided
the wife who stood the test of times
did not stay long on earth
to see his rise and wealth
Well, that be the irony of the day
a paradox of the nuptials in stroke
comes to my mind the words
they also serve who stand and wait.
Categories
As The Age Goes.
I am going to be ten
jolly well cries my grand-daughter.
I am going to be twenty
cries my nephew with joy.
I would be thirty plus
beams my son with pride.
I am turning forty
tells my brother softly.
I am on my way to fifty
speaks my cousin meekly.
Well, I would be sixty soon
say I demurely .
Well as the age goes
the people grow
so do their voice show
from high to low
with a mellow
that be the go
as years flow
taking us nearer to the grave
turning stoic and brave.
Categories
Making Of A Son
it being an admonition
a chiding from a mother
a punishment from her
for having performed bad
not once or twice but always
getting poor and poorer in the go
making her to stand before the crowd
where other mothers boast of their sons’ prowess
she being there with a bowed head
and with down cast eyes
tears coming down the cheeks
having to undergo such situations
not being a few but many
she reprimanded herself rather harshly
having borne a child so bad in studies
he having brains in tons
never into the studies from day one
playful and boisterous
climbing up the trees
when he ought to do the assignments
she running behind him with a stick
he dodging and getting up
where she could no longer reach
this play had been all through
leaving her helpless and sad
now she is a ta the receiving end
with the school authorities blaming her
a plight wholly pathetic and compassionate
being a mother she has no choice
but owe up for her son’s fault
a precarious situation she be in
a delinquency she has to face
and face did she all the while
having made her son a professional
being adorned with laurels and honours
acclaimed by those who derided him
a n impressive change she had brought into
with a determination and gusto.
Hail to thee the mother of a son
may your tribe increase.
Categories
With That Goes My World.
The morning looks dull
with people not seen about
nothing happens in full
as there is none going out.
What be the cause I wonder
I could infer nothing so far
as I think about in a ponder
I trace nothing great ajar.
It might be a holiday, I conclude
holidays are spent not at home I know
as people go over with a schedule
visiting places with glee in a row.
What else would it be? I think aloud
while my son sits facing me with a tease
What is your botheration now? he talks loud
Keep going not thinking of things in pieces.
Telling him of my deliberation straight
he unable to control his laughter
holds my hand and says with words right
you have other things to care about now and after.
Still my mind persists on its thought
wanting to know why the day is lifeless
my son reaches me with a plot
taking me into the city for a drive never
theless
Categories
The Deal —-Feminism At The Back
There erupts a tease
there emanates a fleece
it is a deride
it is a high bide
being a woman
is but inhuman
as she is at stages
under her father till an age
then her husband takes the reign
followed by the sons in all signs.
The fatherly role is too authoritative
with a strict approach tentative.
The dictator is the husband
getting her dancing to his loud band
while the son plays a self-conceited game
putting I before all in no shame.
The girl, wife and mother
with no pride in her feathers
with mouth shut and eyes downcast
plays second fiddle to everything fast
that being the fate of the woman
wherein she is a graceful human
as long as she goes by the male’s domination
once she revolts and rebels
she has to move with a label
a shrew with a vicious ambition.
The pulse beat is normal.
The heart beat is perfect.
The man turns cold.
His eyes flutter and
he falls down unconscious..
He is lying down like a dead.
None could understand the problem.
The doctors could do nothing.
The man lies like dead undeterred.
He is a young man about thirty-three.
As all stood around him with down cast eyes,
his wife with his little son rushed towards him.
She shook him and called him by his name
The man is lying down as dead undisturbed.
The little son took a step forward and then retreated.
again made a forward move but got back in fear.
The third time he raced ahead and fell on his father
letting out a cry ‘papa”, ‘papa” which made all cry.
The man lying down dead slowly opened his eyes.
It was only few years back,
The family’s going was good ,
The pride was extremely high,
The cheer was delightfully great,
Naturally, its arrogance was exorbitant.
The family made a loud show off,
A gross vanity was directly found,
A rudeness was always practised,
A total disrespect to all was shown,
Its impudence was absolutely unbearable.
Today the scenario has changed,
The progress has been stalled by their insincerity,
Their prosperity has eroded considerably,
Their prestige has been lost effectively
Still they have not realised the reality.
It is a pity to see the family ,
Facing a loss of enormous wealth
Seeing its vast properties auctioned,
Experiencing an untold misery and shame,
Still unable to accept the fault which they committed.
Examining the plight of the family straight,
Traced the folly of the person at the helm,
It was an unmindful expansion all through,
Neatly setting aside a sizeable portion for him,
Landing the business in an unprecedented debacle.
The team of husband and wife strove hard,
Built an empire by thoughtful moves,
Engaged themselves in philanthropic activities,
Handed everything to one son by love or ploy ,
Saw the whole thing crash like a pack of cards.
Favouring a part of their own family most,
Shelling out a fruitful fraction to the other part,
Taking away mercilessly what was given from one child,
Making her languish in disappointment and tears,
Caused the family to suffer immensely.
,
Meenas Poems 