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Waiting for the Son

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Below is the poem entitled Waiting for the Son which was written by poet FABIYAS M V. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Waiting for the Son

A father’s head,
Which is hooked to sleep in an armchair,
Swings like a pendulum,
Awaiting the shocking knock on his heart.
Wandering in a street
In the hashish lit nights,
Dear son always fades the spectrum of love.
As the venomous leaves
Hide the moon of innocence,
A pair of eyes glares among the lawless twigs.

Thorns on a stepmother’s tongue
Had pricked him constantly.
He washes out the wounds with drops of rum.
A midnight fox howls,
And the father’s disquietude deepens further.
But he never thinks
He is always among the defunct domestic goods
In his son’s shed.
Dear son walks miles through the graveled road,
When the father’s shoes wear out.

Hinges grate as usual,
The son passes by in silence, mindless of the midnight.
Now the father can sprawl on love’s pain in his bedroom.

Copyright © FABIYAS M V

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  1. Date: 4/10/2013 9:31:00 AM
    Hi Fab - I love this poem with my usual aching. Can I just tell you the fortitude you display in each of writings. It is astonishing. Do you live in this part of India where life is so difficult? peace, Kathy

  1. Date: 10/31/2012 6:16:00 AM
    I am so sorry it has taken me this long to get back to you on the comments you have left on my poetry. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and leave a comment Fab. It truly was appreciated. Love, Carol

  1. Date: 9/15/2012 10:45:00 AM
    Very nice one, Fabiyas. This one absorbs the reader in the father's pain.

  1. Date: 9/4/2012 4:21:00 PM
    FAB, a very touching poem. A father, can hold much in and still worry with all the pain in life.. deep,,enjoyed stopping by today, always~PD

  1. Date: 9/4/2012 8:06:00 AM
    such profoundness here in this poem, an excellent read.

  1. Date: 8/30/2012 10:16:00 AM
    Fabiyas, there seem to be a very sad and disturbing story here...hope for the dawn, it's always better then. Thanks for stopping by and commenting this fine morn. One love. Joy Wells