Am waiting for you, my son
Between us time seems to stand still
I might have failed you, my son
Failed in transmitting love to fill
Once did tears stand like pearls
In my eyes, tenderness beamed
In my dreamy face(eyes) , a girl’s
Mirage, as wife, I a failure deemed
My mother, one for one and truly loveable
Suffering untold pain in life-giving joy
Gone now, but not gone her lullaby’s warble
I admit, ma, I am a beaten toy
My God, tender and kind, turned
His loving eyes towards me
I missed a beat, not responded
I feel a sense of failure deep within me
A teacher I am now, by chances strange
To kindle the spark of quest in you
Nay, shaped you not a burning flame-orange
Curse me not, my child, I am beaten like you
Sculptures I made with the clay of love
They turned out ugly or broke altogether
The sanctum sanctorum has no idol of love
Where I stand with my hands folded together
Offering tears of a beaten soul
Like the ripples of a smooth-flowing stream
My poems and myself have gone so far
Couldn’t you find your sweet day-dream
Reflect in my fancy’s silver-mirror for ever
Don’t you hear my silent songs
My sorrows are your sorrows too
My poems sing best of your pangs
As a poet I am not beaten true
prasanna kumari
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/un-beaten/
