THE CRYING CHILD

Sound sleeping

The toddler does need it,

In early speaking ability,

He only says, “Mother! Come.”

So that in tandem the baby

Wants to sway with love

The passing of the night,

Sleeping with mother’s caring.

Lovely goes his spirit

And hunts for sleeping,

He wants to be with mother,

In the making of myth of love,

That the child does like to be with

The big organized way of mother's sincerity,

The sentiment of life, in mother’s embrace

And everything of beats of life

The speaking of the baby is heading

With joy on the way of love’s train,

Sleeping with mother.

Under the marathon of busy hours

And service work, the mother

Manages for duty and for her rest,

And brings everything in little gust

Of burning sleeve of tiredness,

Since she moves with languished feeling,

The child’s sleeping scope

Gives mother haste

To finish her workload, and

She just tries to find time,

To come with the toddler,

And in the mean time, it is amazed,

The mechanism has been changed,

And the child starts crying.

CHILD’S CHOICE, IGNORED

She returns home with haste

Stops for her little son

And makes him prepare

For the journey,

She has no time to listen

To her child who has

Something good in his mindset,

The child has own choice

For shoes and sweater to wear

In winter, while

He is going out,

And he utters, “Other one”

He is yet to speak in full.

The child cries with bursts,

Holding his choices - shoes

And sweater to wear

In mother’s company,

She had no time to attend

Child’s untold feeling,

And she fakes his choice

Stuffs a mother’s choice,

Jumps into hasty move,

Avoiding crying of child,

And lifts the kid

Like a colored balloon,

In her lap, and the child

Crying profusely,

Still holding his shoes

In one hand and sweater

In other hand, and keeps

Them under his care

Not knowing the secret

Of his mother’s apathy,

And his mother says,

“We are in a hurry,

Time to catch bus is going out.”

The child don’t understand,

What mother is saying about,

Crying profusely, he throws

All he holds in his tiny hands,

Slumped on the hard concrete floor.

WHISPERS TO GOD

The child is feeble

His eyes go deep into face,

Yet he eats, dances, moves,

Cries, smiles, the red face

Looks pale when he baths,

Mother says his structure

Is so, and she messages cream

To remove his paleness,

I only pray to God, Lord,

Please keep the child moving,

You love him,

You care him,

I am an onlooker,

And if I put advice

I fear my eyes will

Be blinded forthwith,

And my mind cries

On my helplessness

As the world is for theirs,

My old age burns are

All fake to them,

Other relations are nothing,

And I do not put my finger

Into the fire,

That will kill my whole essence

And the child will remain

In their whims, and child lives in pains.

I whisper to the world

God may hear my words.

LIVING BEYOND SHADOWS OF PROPAGANDA

O dear one, my strength is linking to dryness,

Only link, it is my mobile phone
That appears only to voice of a child,
And I feel comfort; as he is able to say, ‘Eei’
My walking with life is full of tufts
And shafts of yellow grass, higher
Above the height of nothingness, yet
I do live as if I am no one upon the land.

For the link, I have to turn hard,

No new garments I bought, wearing only old ones,
I am always pressing my mind for savings,
For paying cost for internet and mobile phone service,
Where I have to collect connections, and
Never varies my mind, even if silver dreams do come,
The only care I do intend for making me contacted
With the boy for hearing his voice on mobile phone,

and to see his pictures on internet social sites.  

As the child, beloved one,

Separated, by some persons of home and abroad,
Lives far away from me,

And as the child is yet to learn speaking to return from war zone,

My agony goes beyond submission and subjugation.
When I speak about need of a doctor for child's treatment,
They shout at me, young managers for the child,
As if I am trying to diverge thinking for well being
Of the child, as he appears to be well,
and he is fit to gain their confidence.

As an old man, my endeavor limited to seeing only window,

And I have to go hiding from their propaganda over shadow.

 

 

 

THE LONELY CHILD

The beautiful child

Wants to play with

Grandfather and grandmother,

The sooner parents

Take away the child

And keeps in a closed room.

It is time for his eating,

He started crying, and

When he finds he is away

From his loved ones,

Tears coming down

His tender cheeks, and

With his feeble body

He cannot resist and

Falls asleep,

Like a lonely person

Out of sibling ring.

 

 

Sometimes, the elderly persons,

 

Grandmother and Grandfather

 

Do not carry the child

 

And go to bed, differently and silently.

 

 

THE GREAT CURIOSITY

The reward and curious is the world

In tender eyes of the child, among

Strange and new things to be known

On road, in corn field, on the horizon,

While sitting at feet of grandfather,

Making the child acquainted with tales

And visions of the earth, dusk to dusk.