Now I'll crack the silence
burst the balloons of connection
what if Ivory presence
connected you
ebony shadow
disconnected?
well, no question marks.
All around me, there are faces
but none of them are familiar;
If you noticed my smile
I also realized your power
You got a window to sit
a green tree to admire
a constant working
golden mighty pen.
I have a soiled diaper
another hand with
a weird-looking Math's book
practicising numbers
with a second grader
performing life
in different costumes,
A virtual pen roaming
in my conscious
a promise to write
when the seed sprouts
to bloom and feel complete.
when my hands clean.
often so slow things are
like a winter morning with no sight,
Your choices; leaving scars behind
I too wave with you
flying with the wind
asking one more summer
Let's not meet again
if, then again like innocent strangers
not like staunch poets
...my first poetic reflections not rant.
In the series of connecting and disconnecting,this is my virtual gift to someone who needs a hug.
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Comments: 34
Oh Buzzy, you reached inside the soul of every homebound poet mother. Lovely refrains.
^ Yes, that is it! Perfectly, she does.
Such beautiful images and words, mingle so sweetly. I feel more than I have words for, reading this.
Here your use of reality, touch of personal flavor and juxtapositions make this one of my favorite writings. This poetry needs a Pulitzer.
Time’s lust for life
often so slow things are
like a winter morning with no sight,
Your choices; leaving scars behind
I too wave with you
flying with the wind...
Aha! Amazing poetry.
Bhawana, how wonderful! "not like staunch poets" Wow. What a phrase. So many good phrases "often so slow things are" ... you have the essence, that's for sure. May you get those quiet moments to do just this.
Well done, Buzzy!!!
Well done thanks for sharing..
Thank you ,Buzzy for your verse .
A wonderful poem with many insights into roles, relationships, reaching across distances. I hope that not only mothers would be affected by this poem, for it is universal, too.
This is a delightful piece and a pleasure to read. Thank you, Buzzy!
It seemed a soft complimentary tone until line 16. Whoa!!!! Major shifting of gears. I believe the deeper meanings in your verse would have more clarity in Hindi. In your verse we must beg to understand the English metaphor. I felt a very strong hindu influence.
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
I can't say enough about this deeply meaningful and skillfully crafted poem. Your father will be proud, no doubt. You started off with a bang ( :) ) with the first two lines and from there continued to amaze me again and again. The duties of motherhood are to be admired.
Thank you for raising the bar for all writers and poets, Buzzy.
A fantastic read Bhawana. That last line is so reflexively poetic. It clinches and encapsulates the entire poem and so much more. Lovely
Simply perfect, reached right out to me.
A skillful presentation of personal and poignant reflection. You are a beautiful mother and a beautiful poet.
Although your friend needs a hug, it also seems that the narrator envies her freedom.
This is beautiful and even after more than one read, I'm still finding more and more I love in this.
Giving you a gentle hug...
Marilyn
Well done!
I never knew that the kids wud make you a wonderful poet
How introspective! Brilliant writing, Bhawana. Sending hugs and admiration.
How nice, thank you.
Fabulous, Buzzy!
Thank you so much!
What a lovely poem.
You have went through the different stages of motherhood, from changing diapers to washing hands and getting one with the life of mother to other child who is needing help with Math. All this done in poetic verse. Walking through each phase of your life, perhaps on Gather, sharing with us.
You're an amazing poet, sweet Bhawana... hugs to you as well! :-)
Love ya - S.
This is lovely Bhawana - captures that feeling of home with the kids when they were small and my visitors went back home.
Lots of interesting comments.
I have a small critique that might make a British person howl.
You wrote, 'balloons of happiness burst.'
I suggest, 'balloons burst happiness on'
I agree with all these wonderful appraisals of your poem, Bhawana.
Takes me back to baby days.