A gift for every occasion! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
The bracelet of fresh and fragile white fragrant
Jasmine buds, its soft feel and sensuous scent,
That you so tenderly slipped on my wrist
And the look in your eyes, and your tight grip.
I still remember, as I fondly look
At the string I had dried, in my scrapbook.
Sitting by bay window, watching twilight
Smiled to myself, reminisce about that night.
Today to make up after a bad fight,
Cold vibes; we both felt wee bit contrite.
You tied jasmine in my hair; and I lay
Wondering, how flowers quietly convey
What somehow, we all feel uneasy to say
At times words limit us, ego comes in way.
There are flowers for every occasion;
Act as bridge with little persuasion.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Tribute to Motherhood-2
From the time
Of conception,
A mother
Nurtures like a gardener,
Who plants a seed
And tenderly
Watches it
Growing from a sapling to tree.
Her heart
Has the width of the sky.
She can’t hold anything
Against her children for long,
Even if she tries.
Her generosity,
Like that of the Sun
Which gives,
Life and light
To everyone
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Moment of Doubt
At times I find myself at odds,
And wonder if there is a God
Above watching over us.
To protect us from calamities as such.
When in one moment your loved ones are taken,
Your faith in God is shaken.
You feel bereft, alone, rudderless,
Because of the suddenness
Of the catastrophe so huge,
That there is a never ending deluge
Of tears pouring from the eyes
As you say why me, why me, and cry.
But human spirit is tough.
It is tested when the going is rough.
You first deny, then get angry and cry.
But at the end of it all you try
To accept the inevitable
And make efforts to make your life stable.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Am perplexed! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
As I saw a rainbow,
After a heavy downpour
And tried to smile
To my dismay, I found
My lips had been sealed
With an epoxy resin…
As my eyes fell on
My favourite Tiramisu
With cream and coffee,
I realised my hands
Had been tied…
As I was about to realise
My long cherished dream,
And hope began to soar
Like a colourful kite,
Why I lost grip on the string
Saw the kite fall
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Perfect Landing
A gaily painted butterfly hovers over
A dainty flower, as a miniature helicopter
Patiently waiting for a landing signal,
The flower welcomes the timely arrival
And guides it to its destination,
As there is no traffic congestion
It makes a perfect landing with precision,
Without any accident or collision,
The butterfly deposits its cargo
Noiselessly moving to and fro,
Flower offers nectar to the visitor
Later it takes off with a flutter.
Spellbound I watch this in silence
And my senses revel in the image.
Have I ever seen, I wonder
Two butterflies on the same flower?
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Living Like a Gypsy
From Chicago to Mumbai
Srinagar to Chennai,
I had to deal
With extremes:
Icy cold,
To hot and humid.
Biting cold and windy
To hot and sweaty.
Finally I said,
Out of exasperation
To my husband,
My body’s thermostat
Is beginning to protest,
I can’t live like a gypsy
At the risk of sounding bitchy,
Can’t we settle down?
Where the climate
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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At crack of dawn...! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Through chinks in roman blinds, I wake and see
Its dawn, stretch out my hand for the remote;
Switch off air conditioner, jarring sound
Drowned the musical notes of flitting birds,
And the song of first pre monsoon showers
All summer, I had waited and longed to hear.
Languorously inhaled the soft fragrance
Of the now wet earth, that stirred up per chance
A longing for you; just then mobile rings,
I laughed out loud and said, great timing!
Perplexed, you asked, tell me, what I did now.
Oh, you just caught me red handed, somehow…
After a shower, hair wrapped in a towel,
Stepped into the kitchen, to make waffles.
Your parting shot, woman- a mystery
Tickled, I quite relished my coquetry.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Anika's Birthday Party
At Anika’s birthday party,
The children in their finery
Were running about excited,
Proudly displaying
Their tattoos.
In the corner,
Sat a young boy
With his water colours.
Painting dainty designs
On outstretched arms.
As children patiently,
Waited for their turn
In a line.
I too was tempted
To get one on my wrist.
At first i hesitated
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Berries! ! ! ! !
Mulberries
On a visit to granny in the Doon valley
It was March, the old tree full of Mulberries.
Red, purple teasing from far, ran with cane basket.
Picked one, ate some while the birds created a racket.
Strawberries
Strawberri es in white boxes, one atop other
The hawker sat on his knees, said go no further.
I protest too expensive, not for the masses.
Rich eat raw, make a tart or with cream in glasses.
Wild Berries
On way back from school at noon, attack wild berries.
Are for free and so yummy, home a lot we carry.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Feeling Naughty at Forty
One evening I blurted to my young daughter
Oh dear, I really feel naughty
Now that I am going to turn forty.
She burst out with laughter
And said, what’s stopping you, just go ahead.
Buy yourself a pretty extravagant gown
And let your hair down.
Have fun, till you are tired enough to go to bed
But, I mused and tentatively said
What about Daddy?
Won’t he explode and be ready
To divorce, he won’t forgive me one lapse
But she asked raising her eyebrows why tell him
He won’t even notice as he is glued to his work and news
While you paint the town red and come back renewed
I looked at her and secretly beamed.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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