feminine, life, Love, Nature, poetry

Mamma (Mother)

(This poem is a tribute to my mamma ( as I call her) for being an amazing mother, for raising two children single, working hard to put food in our hungry bellies, for loving us so much, for setting us free and fad away)


Carried in warm waters of her womb

for 280 days ,raising two children along

with abuses of father who existed in

his absence.


Ran from pillar to pillar, shore to shore

in scorching heats and icy colds to put

a loaf of bread on that severed table

brutal reminder of wedding that

once too  place. 


The sheer poise in her demeanor will 

guard her children from, the evil that

dwells in this world,that assuring smile

would blanket her little ones from the

coldness that only humans are capable of.


And when the time came she walked

two steps behind waning and waxing

like the aged moon,for sons who were

once lovers turned blind, feebly tamed 

by the shrewd ways.


What she achieved was extraordinary

no bills or coins of worth but the 

glorious grace to stand on her own, 

A lesson  learnt since she a woman 

came into the world.


It didn’t matter there was a beautiful

symmetry in her fragile body, the 

enthralling rhythm in her walk and

that charm, a rare one that some 

poets celebrate…


She was to be a vision which shines

without rays of cruel Sun, she was to

guard her place of work, learn to be

loved without a man on her side.


From the high cliff now that I see, this will be

be the world of some father and sons,

of few dimes and family names but I’ll

always be my mamma’s little girl!



Your love
Love, Nature, poetry

Your Love

My bosom swells with insatiable love

when I embrace you tightly, my chest

like a parched barren desert in which

you become an oasis when you

rest your beautiful head against my

sterile ribs and play with my

falling locks like your

toy rattlers,


And when you abruptly run away from my

lap trying to play some childish games

and run after your toy trains, I shudder

thinking one day you will grow and

leave for the distant lands, move on from

the comforts of my laps to thrills

of world outside,


Leaving me wiping my tears in the shrine

 of your toy cars like a devotee waiting for

her prayers to be heard, you might not remember

little sacrifices, and sleepless nights spent to

ensure your gentle touch or how I put up

 with my plights smilingly turned my 

gloom into happiness and 

dejections into hope,


Why I stayed with your daddy just to create

with my hands a fantasy doll house for you

to play, Your one smile pumps blood

into the clogged vaults of my heart,

the fragile heart which just got

withered before the harsh

autumns of life,


But I make merry so you know world is a 

 good place to dwell in, I shudder thinking

who will quench the thirsts of your aching

mother when you grow and move to distant

but I know you have to go away and may be

may be then ill do my final ablutions in

the holy-rivers of my fore-mothers 

and kneel in front of my arch angels,

may be then….







Your love
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, poetry


Father who always stood erected,

suddenly showed up at mother’s grave,  

and stooped lazily that day.

The man who carried head in the clouds, 

forced to bare his soul stark naked, 

on the muddy earthen ground. 

From the ashes, I gathered, 

a life carefully crafted out of sorrow

and well chiseled out of pain.

Midst sooty powdered cinders, I saw, 

scattered pieces of her bleached bones,

Echoing several decades of neglect.

A voice ever so familiar “mama is home.”

an absentee husband today loathing, 

over marriage that was never there.

A callous father, who shut all windows, 

when she was alive, children left,

to wander, while she slowly slipped away.

Lone tear tickled from the icy eyes,

not enough to wash away the

the sins and debaucheries of a lifetime.

An unidentified grave, overgrown

with tall grasses, for it is a common tale

of a mother who sacrificed so much.

A mother who worked hard to,

put food on the table and while,

doing so smiled and narrated random tales.

It’s a father’s world after all but,

under the careful watch of a,


Tanya Shukla