Mamta Agarwal Poems

At 15, taking a stroll with my mother
On a cool summer night after dinner,
Ma, one question always nags my mind
What is it she softly asked, my child?
...

Summer at peak;
a young man
in a white singlet.
...

Times were when an auto rickshaw
Drove over my dainty toes
I said ouch, there was a momentary pain;
Shouted and moved to the next lane.
...

Child, its late, are you awake?
Ill pull up quilt and just fake.
He would walk away saying no hurry.
It’s bright and sunny but not to worry.
...

what has poem hunter,
Against me, I wonder.

My inbox is full
...

Step aside,
Kings and princes-
Hamlet, Lear and Othello,
Fictional tragic heroes,
...

Kicking a small piece of broken earthen pot,
While playing on the roadside, hop scotch.
Or dribbling a ball and throwing it at a team mate.
Screaming as I fell, skidding on the roller skates.
...

Basket of lemons
At my door... ironical,
Who knew had sore throat...
...

While tending to the garden one balmy November,
Helping my mother wash the leaves of the dust,
And gently cut off the dead branches and flowers,
Spraying the ones still seeming bright and robust…
...

Yes, we are estranged,
But now I have no complaints.

You want to make amends
...