My father loved me the best he could.
My mother loved me, as only a mother can.
I tried to love myself but found no reason to care.
Yet, in spite of all, hope remained.
My father taught me logic as only a father can.
My mother taught me to listen as best she could.
I taught myself poetry but found no talent to share,
And in the end neither rhyme nor reason prevailed.
.
Now I love my own sons the best I can.
My wife loves them, as only a mother should.
Our boys love life itself and live to accept a dare.
Yet, in spite of all, math has become the music of the spheres.
I guess poetry skipped a generation.
My mother loved me as only a mother can.
My father loved me the best he could.
I tried to love myself but found no reason to care.
Yet, in spite of all, hope remains.
Although it is said Poetry defines life for us...it is good for all but still we find many people ignorant to it...But poetry has an immense future as predicted by Matthew Arnold in his study of poetry... well thought and well composed....
This is very moving. Yet poetry never skips a generation. And the act of generation is creative, poetic... 'Honey of generation' Yeats called it.
There always is hope. Everybody has their own thing, so we should step back and let whatever will be- be. Great poem Bill. A ten for sure!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes I am in agreement with Abha, well composed! - Raj Nandy