By Puneet Sidhu
Seldom I give up generally I get up,
There is nothing easy in being a woman,
When designated as mother.
A physioological and psychological turmoil,
A web of thoughts that are unexpressed.
Back - to - back fulfilling and redeeming the needs of a neonate,
Rest and sleep are never near,
Baggage of compromises it brings,
Arduously striving without surcease,
Still the expectations are seldom met.
A mother persists to be unnerved and unrecognised,
A void that ne'er fills.
Ergo,disheartened and wearisome,
I give up ,bravely I get up.
In and around all the stuff,
Radiant and captivating is my kid's smaile that,
Takes away all the blames and tags.
A new,a happy mother I be,
Nevertheless,a sprinter with ceaseless chores,
Hereby a distinct perspective and philosophy pours.
My son- an affair of the heart,
A chatter-box with eyes on a tea table talk.
An imaginative world of his makes up my day,
I see more of me in him.
Humble and grounded,
Stubborn but creative. So...
A flash of giving up turns to a hope of getting up.
Such a blessing it is to be a mother to a son,
A pre-teen heeds when I am in my lows,
Tediously involved handling my tantrums.
The hours tick by unnoticed in his company,
Helping me navigate the ups-downs of life.
Son- a beautiful creation of lord,
An initiator of family time.
Blissfulness- a bond thst outlives words,
From a plethora of opportunities that I could be.
Can be or will be,
Being a mother will always be the chosen one.
So,every time I give up,
My son is the reason I wake up.
Published in the book -Mother- A Divine Blessing.
Such an encouragement by delhi poetry slam..Thank you for motivating the aspiring writers.