The stupid mom, p.1
The Stupid Mom,
The Stupid Mom
By Hiranya Borah
Copyright 2016 Hiranya Borah
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Dear readers, I decided not to write any poem in future after initial lukewarm response from you on my ‘First Attempt’. But later on, you have shown your love for the book which encouraged me to attempt another compilation of poem. I wanted to give the name of the book as ‘Second attempt’. But my last poem on a mother changed my mind and I gave the name of the book accordingly. I have no shame in sharing that while writing the title poem, I wiped my tears at least four to five times and had to stop writing further many times. It is a tribute not only to my mother but to all the mothers for their unselfish sacrifice for their children.
A Struggling Poet
After a lonely evening,
Darkness is engulfing my small room.
I search for the switch board;
Where it is;
Over my head;
Or on the side wall.
I was about to hit the stool;
Someone carelessly placed on my way;
Or I was on the wrong path!
What science has done for us!
Light becomes available at night in abundance;
No need for moon light to touch;
Your skin and mind.
At the twilight,
You do not fear for darkness;
You will not fear for loneliness;
If you have resources to buy;
Light in abundance!
Far from civilization,
Far from science;
Far from artificial resources;
Even now child cries for light at dawn!
I have drifted away from my dark room;
Still searching for the switch board;
Somewhere on the wall or overhead!
Suddenly my room is illuminated;
Through the open door;
Sweet and soft light entered slowly.
My mind and spirit are enlightened,
With sweet smell of evening freshness!
I raise my head;
To see the source of light;
To know how far it is!
It is a full moon day;
Or it is a full moon night!
I do not know;
But my mind and spirit is full of evening freshness;
The freshness I used to love from my adulthood!
The moon is not far away;
It is at a touching distance.
I dare not to touch the moon;
Fearing for losing it.
Moon smiles at me like my mother;
Or like my sister,
Or like my daughter!
She kissed me on my forehead and told,
You can touch me;
You can love me;
I am yours.
Darkness loosened its grips;
From my room,
From my mind and heart!
Princess meets The Prince
While walking in the twilight,
Before descending of dusk;
Feeling like a dawn;
In a narrow street of mind;
I met the free spirit, with a broad smile.
The smile was as broad as the Palk Strait,
Dividing mainland of India and Sri Lanka.
Her smile, as deep as an ocean,
Gave a hope to live for another day,
As a prisoner of love!
Every grin of her, every giggle of her;
Energise me for another walk,
In the narrow street of mind.
Blood was oozing out from her heart;
She was weeping like a dying deer;
Hit by an arrow of a blood thirsty hunter.
Why are you crying my child?
I asked with a tender voice.
He promised to keep on holding my hand;
Even during a tempest.
But he left me in lurch,
In the midst of turmoil river,
At the first scent of an evening fragrance,
Causing a feeling of dusk in my mind.
With salty sweat of my life,
I gave a healing touch,
To the bleeding heart,
With a slim hope,
She could see the dawn again!
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