The Womb - Poems on Mother , Father , Children , Parenthood - volume 2
Page 9
It seemed you were just a pound of blood; in the invincibly compassionate stomach of your mesmerizing mother; only fractions of seconds ago,
While today you signed countless Business deals every unfurling minute; blazed like an insatiable volcano; in whatever sphere of life you wholeheartedly undertook.
It seemed you were just a pound of inconspicuous jelly; in the worshipped bowl of your philanthropic mother; only fractions of seconds ago,
While today you left me panting for breath; as you clambered like an uncontrollable whirlwind to the summit of the mountain; carrying me down; as I miserably felt
short of indispensable life.
It seemed you were just a pound of diminutive emotions; in the innocent entrenchment of your twinkling mother; only fractions of seconds ago,
While today you indefatigably romanced with the soul mate of your choice; conceiving and profoundly assimilating the beauty of this fathomless planet; in
every beat of your thundering heart.
And it seemed you were just a pound of brain; in the celestially blissful bag of your immortal mother; only fractions of seconds ago,
While today you had made me feel the richest entity on earth alive; granting me an infinite more lives to live in this single lifetime of mine; as you tirelessly kept calling me father.
38. MY SON
He was one inconspicuous entity in this entire planet; for whom I could sacrifice all the wealth which I had arduously assimilated till date,
He was one magnificent angel cuddling the silken sheets; for whom I could relinquish every iota of smile; lingering uninhibitedly in my persona,
He was one fountain of mesmerizing emotions; for whom I could remain famished without a single droplet of water; all marathon night and flaming day,
He was one impeccable bundle of overwhelming joy; for whom I could annihilate all tumultuous passion fulminating in my heart; bond with the threads of manipulative reality,
He was one angel with a glorious conscience; for whom I could lead my entire life without my pairs of robust hands and feet,
He was one immaculate cloud inundated with optimistic beams of new found hope; for whom I could walk barefoot; for centuries unprecedented on a mountain of
acrid thorns,
He was one celestial marvel deluging the air around with Omnipotent light; for whom I could sip the most heinous of poison; the very first day; each time I took birth as a man once again,
He was one enthralling adventure who captivated everyone in his charismatic swirl; for whom I could blindfold myself perpetually; plunge without the slightest of apprehension in my eyes into a valley of sinister darkness,
He was one sacrosanct idol of happiness bouncing towards the sky; for whom I could burn all my inevitable belongings into threadbare realms of ghastly hell,
He was one innocuous jewel of prosperity; for whom I could bury myself boundless kilometers beneath gigantic avalanches of white ice; without a cloth to drape my nimble body,
He was one philanthropic spirit floating in a river of majestic goodness; for whom I could stand unflinchingly amidst the most inclement of fires; till the last bone down my spine charred to an appalling death,
He was one epitome of ubiquitous solidarity; a messiah of every religion created by man; for whom I could selflessly impart every beat of my passionately
palpitating heart,
He was one enchanting scent; disseminating his immortal essence wherever he crept; for whom I could confront the mightiest of disasters every unveiling
second of the day,
He was one tornado of effusive empathy; more grandiloquent than the heavens when he danced; for whom I could lick the most morbidly sweltering sand; sprinkled on the uncouth rocks,
He was one Omnipresent mirror of righteousness; candidly reflecting to the world its battalion of sins; for whom I could wholeheartedly embrace the corridors of extinction; in the most magnificent stages of my life,
He was one diminutively blue eyed beauty singing in the winds of exhilarating jubilation; for whom I could emboss unsurpassable lines of poetry; even after the
last droplet of blood in my veins had utterly exhausted,
He was one Omniscient ray of ethereally everlasting light; for whom I could survive till endless infinity; in a dungeon replete with hideous scorpion,
He was the most sacred fruit of our invincible love; for which me and my divinely beloved; had prayed since our several past lifetimes,
Most importantly; he was my blood, my breath; my heart; my soul; for whom I was ready to be born again only to face a countless more deaths; for infact he
was none other than my ultimate identity; he was my son.
39. COMPLETE SURRENDER
A complete surrender of every iota of my exuberance; my insatiable proclivity to triumphantly surge forward in the chapter of mesmerizing life,
A complete surrender of my profoundly sensuous artistry; the miraculous power in my fingers to evolve magic out of inanely vexing nothingness; by the grace of Almighty God,
A complete surrender of my blazingly intrepid dynamism; the wave of unflinching patriotism that unassailably circumscribed my soul; to fight till my very last breath for my beautifully venerated motherland,
A complete surrender of my astoundingly vivid sensitivity; the fathomless festoon of panoramically spell binding fantasy titillating the dormitories of my brain,
A complete surrender of my uninhibitedly unlimited freedom; the boundlessly
ebullient spirit of sensuous frolic and philandering; that everlasting wafted from each of my ecstatically silken nerves,
A complete surrender of every ingredient of my rhapsodically untainted blood; the indefatigable tenacity embedded in it; to kiss the aisles of insuperable unceasing prosperity,
A complete surrender of every globule of my redolently placating perspiration; after I majestically toiled under the blazing afternoon Sun; for righteously deserving my inch of Omnipotent soil,
A complete surrender of my tirelessly enamoring fantasy; the magnificently
resplendent and unconquerably fructifying dreams that splendidly engulfed my
mind every unraveling instant of my impoverished existence,
A complete surrender of my Herculean temerity to survive amidst a pack of
hedonistically cannibalistic wolves; the mantra of survival of the fittest diffusing from even the most parsimoniously frigid of my senses,
A complete surrender of every iota of impeccable truth garnishing my conscience; the untamed fireballs of glorious resilience that I possessed to even the most obnoxiously truculent impediments of life,
A complete surrender of my insurmountably endless innovation; the countless
ideas of miraculously endowing newness; that perpetuated like pristinely regale thunderbolts of lightening in my mind,
A complete surrender of my mischievously unrelenting mysticism; the tunes of
supremely tantalizing mellifluousness that that disseminated from the corners of my cavorting mouth,’
A complete surrender of my handsomely unfettered integrity; the unparalleled
yearning to mitigate and blend with every echelon of ubiquitously symbiotic living kind,
A complete surrender of my brilliantly enlightening positivity; the Sun of perpetual hope that vibrantly lingered in even the most diminutive of my senses,
A complete surrender of my bewitchingly blissful aura; the mists of royal conviviality that profusely enshrouded every conceivable speck of my holistic demeanor,
A complete surrender of my whirlpool of unprecedented desires; the unfathomably ardent yearning to exist in even the most mercurial element of my nimble silhouette,
A complete surrender of my magnanimously embracing voice; the indomitably
humanitarian ideals that encompassed every aspect of my truncated life,
O! Yes; A complete surrender of even the most ethereal traces of my mind;
bod
y and benign spirit; A complete surrender of all burgeoning goodness bestowed upon me by the Omniscient Almighty Lord; A complete surrender of even my most remotely obsolete of shadow,
Only at the feet of my newly born daughter; at the feet of my Goddess of
love; at the feet of my sole messiah who not only taught how to live for the
moment; but divinely blessed me with a limitless more immortally jubilant lives.
40. ATLEAST DON’T DO THAT SIN
We don’t expect astoundingly extraordinary gifts from you; not even the most infinitesimal of bountiful commemorations,
But at least don’t mercilessly trample over all the extraordinarily majestic that we tirelessly endeavor to shower upon you; at least don’t do that sin to your severely ailing and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect compassionately invincible hugs from you; not even the most diminutive tear-drop of heart-rendering empathy,
But at least don’t ruthlessly disown all our invincibly unshakable embraces towards you; at least don’t do that sin to your inevitably decrepit and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect brilliantly insuperable victories from you; not even the most fugitive speck of altruistic martyrdom that would do us and our country proud,
But at least don’t hedonistically spit on our indomitably unblemished victory of so royally procreating you; at least don’t do that sin to your disastrously maimed and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect insurmountably infallible reverence from you; not even the most beguiling trace of sacrosanct dedication and honesty towards us,
But at least don’t demonically desecrate over our timeless prayers for your eternal betterment; at least don’t do that sin to your penuriously hapless and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect impeccably glorious truthfulness from you; not even the most evanescent trump card of unassailably burgeoning success,
But at least don’t barbarously decimate our unshakably perpetual truthfulness for you; at least don’t do that sin to your miserably withering and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect the entire wealth on this fathomless Universe from you; not even the most ephemeral castles of unchallengeable solidarity and heavenly ambrosia,
But at least don’t insidiously annihilate the castle of royally celestial dreams that we had constructed solely for you; at least don’t do that sin to your uncontrollably shivering and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect unceasingly endowing verses of symbiotic poetry from you; not even the most abstemious chunk of priceless humanity towards us,
But at least don’t satanically transgress across our perennial love for you; at least don’t do that sin to your helplessly staggering and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect everlastingly fragrant sharing from you; not even the most disheveled wisp of support towards us in treacherously cataclysmic apocalypses,
But at least don’t lecherously chop our hands which wanted to forever exist only to regally protect you; at least don’t do that sin to your impoverishedly orphaned and old parents; dear children.
We don’t expect blissful rides on your exuberant shoulders; not even the most bedraggled piece of fructifying sublimation from you,
But at least don’t diabolically torch our lips which knew nothing but to smile only for you; at least don’t do that sin to your flagrantly disabled and old parents; dear children.
And we don’t expect marvelously reinvigorating fireballs of breath from you; not even the most deteriorating corridor of optimistic light in your eyes for us,
But at least don’t hedonistically snap the fangs of our life which we lived every unfurling minute solely for you; at least don’t do that sin to your despairingly blinded and old parents; dear children
41. MOTHER & THE ARTIST.
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every unfurling instant
of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every unfurling instant
of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling instant
of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every unfurling minute of oignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling instant
of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every unfurling instant
of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child
in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist.