Poem Hunter
Poems
(un) Beaten
PK ( / )

(un) Beaten

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

User Rating: 3,7 / 5 ( 22 votes ) 20

Comments (20)

Fragrance of Mother's love is exquisite. I tried to find out the truth of the fragrance but failed. As if the stream of the poem is sprouted directly from your heart.
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. This is how a mother identifies herself with her offspring. Through unblemished unselfish love. Nice poem. Thank you for sharing.
Beautiful poem that begins in tears and ends in hope: 'My poems sing best of your pangs As a poet I am not beaten true' Truly a great write.
Cry is the silent song. Beautiful poem
No mother ever fails her son Even if it be in deeds seemingly undone For whats hidden in her heart will one day become The true song of glory every grown up, child will sing for mom..... (Yes, as a poet you are unbeaten...true! Well expressed and great poem)
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