Being a mother

Being a mother is scary
There are times when I get lost in me and mine
But when I do wake up
I find my children turned to monkeys
Long nails, long hairs, unwashed and unraveled
I do wake up and tell myself,
Let’s stay awake till they grow up.

Being a mother is to know your own short-coming
you watch your children turning to you
a reflection of your imperfection
how can they become more than what you are
you will never have an answer
and there is never a clue or a tool.

Being a mother is to preach non-stop
Seems like I have million good advises
Do I even follow them?
There are so many values to teach
Which ones are more important?
Seems like all?
Do they even understand?
The importance of love and kindness,
or having a dream.

Being a mother is to know everything,
why the shadow is black?
why the sky is blue?
why it rains?
why is it always me?
you are never fair
what do I get? and so on...

Being a mother is to be in constant fright
of what your child is becoming
and what they are to become
Will they be happy?
Will they drift away?
Will they still hold this laughter?
will their eyes always shine as bright as their heart?

Being a mother is to be a scary monster
a nightmare that will haunt them and taunt them
now and even when they grow up
to shout, yell and say ‘no’
You know you are doing a bad job,
when you see those frightened faces
How do I ever make amend?

Being a mother is to be a fuzzy bear
to hold your children dear to your heart
the warm hugs, and the kisses in mid of tears
to say, ‘now there, there'
to hold them in when it rains.

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lying reflection


I’m not what I see in front of me
A reflection that has gnarled before me
I count 21 freckles on my face
And my hair, it's a bad dream.

I’ve always been full figured
but I never liked what I saw
i say hello to another wrinkle
i see them more that a friend.

my eyes are blinded and weary
a chemical reaction, a non-stop metamorphism
I see what I am no more
So I shut my eyes and pretend blind.

i remember...

Staring straight into the sun
watching the rain drip from the roof.
Playing rubber band between two polls and
having the best time of my life.

Eating gum worth ten and
not being able to move my jaws,
blood oozing though and through
pretending while my parents screamed.

Being nearly bitten by a dozen dogs
Being amazed at the handkerchief rat
Being clueless in grammar class
and watching jelly fishes float by.

but these are fragments of dream
lock and trapped inside my head
confused and deceived I am
to the reflection I see before me.

from my anthology collection

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traveling train

It certainly is an experience
traveling a thousand miles journey
in a sleeper class train.  

the wait for the train that never comes
till you get weary to look at your wrist.
your wait is done and the train finally comes.

keep an eye on your belongings
for you shall be sorry if you don't
for pickpockets wouldn't miss an opening.

the crowd that pours in like waves to the sea
the colors and the multitude at the platform
rush in hush, some in scurry, others in haze.

It certainly is an experience
traveling from north to south
in a train full of people.

there is no such thing as hunger
the vendor comes non stop
shouting tea, coffee, snacks and meals

the people you meet, you shall remember
if you listen, you will hear wondrous stories
some of broken heart, others of a venture

if you open your heart, it shall be filled
with the sights moving around you
the sound of train that rolls through the night

it is like traveling in a moving house
there's a party and everyone is invited
on a thousand miles journey.

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the lost hour



A year seems long
but it has ended
and now we wait
for another year to add.

Month changes
with name and tags
different in splendor
and thus it surrenders.

Weeks changes swift
swifter than a month or a year
it ends tarnished
with million things undone.

An hour is all we have
forerunner of a stern motive
panicked asphyxia
draws the hour away.

Countless minute flee!
its just not enough,
but you’re never pleased
so you’ll crave another day.

An innocent second
like a blaze of luminosity
came and went undetected
but you’ll never have it again.

from my deviant and anthology collection

goodbye summer




from my summer deviant collection

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welcoming spring






Peach blossoms ushering the spring
Photographs taken today few hours back. Original photographs HERE

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green



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