Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Conversations


Mom is worried, she came to me.
Why do you write poems which are so much me?
She didn't use the phrase, I got her deep ink,
Mommy don't you complain you raised me to be me.
She says getting personal is a poets bane,
I laugh silly woman nudity is a poets game,
If I can't be nude, what shall I write?
I in suit and boots, will my soul shine?
She doesn't understand.
Not that she has not the brains,
Her heart weeps because, her boy is in pain.

Submitted: Saturday, February 09, 2013
Edited: Saturday, February 09, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Moms are crazy they are mad for your safety, but there are times when the winds have to take charge, because our lives cannot be lived on a bed of lies.

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