Fragile Homes

Wrote this sometime back. It was in here saved as a draft. Am posting it now to actually update the blog. Reading it again, the poem does sound dreary but come to think of it, it is more to do with changes that we somehow come to accept and how life just goes on......... 

How fragile are our homes 
They can crack from the inside 
They can break from the outside. 
We raise our loved ones here
We welcome our guests into it 
We hope our secrets stay within it
But always, there is a one fine day 
When the first cracks appear. 
They make us sad, they make us fight
We don’t recognize ourselves 
And then the breakdown arrives. 
The unrecognizable is the new way of life 
And we carry on like before 
inside our fragile homes.........
My big little one was asked to prepare a poem on the Environment. A quick search on the net led to many many beautiful poetry. Most very tough for a 7 year old. And especially since this was attended to very late by me and him (both procrastinated over it for nearly a week) we were left with only the weekend to get ready for the recitation. I jotted a few lines on the Environment that I feel was easy, quick to learn in 4-5 repetitions for his recitation in class. Think he will be able to manage these few lines...........

Once in a beautiful big city
the skies were a pretty blue
twittered birds of different hues
and extinct were animals few.

Today it all seems a distant dream
like those thousand stars once seen
long gone is the cover of green
never before this sad the Earth's been.

Wake up, wake up, before it is too late
clean up your environment mate
help the Mother Earth, the animals and the birds, create
and again make it all beautiful and great.


(So since I am feeling sarcastic of late, here's one where I write a little something on Transformation. I mean, on transforming my personality, which I assure is just a play of words for my enjoyment not something that is really ever going to happen! Peace and love to all)

Transformation From today my transformation begins I refuse to eat the crumbs, from the biscuit packet, the last thick loaf of bread or the leftover food on the kids’ plates. I will take as much time as needed For the things that I need to get done, Mind you only for my reasons, Not for another will I wait. My reason, my purpose, my rules Is why I exist….. I don’t look beyond Myself, maybe a bit about the kids (it is a shame not to get a mothers’ day card really) priorities will remain my hair, my clothes, my shoes. The world is full of such people Inspiring me everyday, Not a thought spared for another Pretense and lies, their chief strengths. Mostly I will be materialistic Only things will give me happine…

Why don't I feel Special?

Why don’t I feel special?
(Every mother’s day I feel bombarded by these random thoughts and so this time I decided to write them down and clear my head once and for all)
That day is upon me again, The day I am special and great, And yet that gap remains Where, I feel undeserving of this praise. Yes, it is mother’s day, a day like any other, since the birth of creation, to this desperate population boom; always a case of the condom gone wrong in my husband's wise eyes.
I was supposed to bear them in sweat and pain Except they made their way through a slit of a knife And I was handed creatures I knew nothing about And for sure they made me a mother, And they were oh so cute, no doubt. And while the nannies bathed them And played with them in the parks, And the domestic help cooked for them I was the celebrated mother, Who worried for them. Except I didn’t. Not so much at least. That one job of worry, I couldn’t carry, I didn’t bother to pine, I say they are programmed to grow …

It had to start eventually
as boredom pushed me,
to look for a space, to call my own,
as just another dot, in this virtual city.

It is an exciting day today,
courage peeking through shyness,
would I hence be a blogger,
God alone knows what that means.

I will post my poems,
my meandering thoughts,
build a collage for my children,
a legacy, for when all comes to naught.....

I will, a lot, speak of my love,
you will see my menacing side lay bare,
there will be kindness, there will be peace,
and anger towards the world in general.

I will falter and fumble through it all
and other than my grammer, my language,
my ignorance, pardon also with largesse
the whole of me as just another dot.