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A Singing Mother
Placed 9th in :
No. 1238 New Poems Only
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Since her birth on the mount
She moves down the hills
And her burden surmounts
Out of her own will all along,
Humming gaily a lovely song.
Lending ears to mother`s refrain
Cleanses the heart from any pain,
Imparts peace to a wearied mind
And a sense of solace to the soul
Anywhere one just cannot find
In the earthly world as a whole.
Still purring her pleasing song,
She hastily hustles down the vale
Carpeted with deep greens all along
And bordered with tall luxuriant trees
With birds chirping on the branches,
Or gliding as creatures gay and free
Along the unblemished heavenly arch
Airing their best tunes, trying to outwit
Singing mother`s divine blissful tweet.
Soon she reaches the undulating plains
Where she can eye jovial sugar canes
Staring for rain at the azure sky in vain
And sourcing their food from her bed
To feed their rooty and thirsty veins.
The singing river treads on and on
Through bushes, leas and beyond
Until her eyes meet the swarmed city
With tall buildings jostling factories.
What does she behold to her dismay?
Worn out mattresses and rusty frames
Laid down on her flanks in an array,
Dry branches thrown on her lane
And bleached water joining her flow.
Instead of her sweet melodious song
Mother a sad and woeful moan blows
As she just wearily winds her way along
To the very end of her preordained destiny
At the wide stretch of the welcoming sea;
Man may come and man will certainly go,
But singing mother will ever and ever flow.
Let her ever hum her holy melodious song
As on her journey she merrily moves along;
Let us not tarnish Nature`s bank or her bed,
But pay all the desired respect to her, instead.
Copyright ©
Krishnanand Guptar
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