Udaya R. Tennakoon


To the Daughter


The time it was insisted
In torrential rain of thunder
To exile and to say good bye
You may have not known
The things were happening

For now is the same
You may not know
The things are happening
Being with you, almost two months
Beside of symbol of paternal
What we could share

You laughed and cried
I tried to feed you
Having held in hand
In the night I showed you
Uncle Moon and brothers of stars

I think you learnt
When I asked again
Pointed your finger

One two and three years passed
I could not see your growing
Sometime heard your voice
For a moment by the phone

I see you matching
With daughters of others
On the roads, in parks and everywhere
Schooling and playing with snow
Words of childish and acts of mischievous

I was looking at them with hidden madness
Perhaps I lament closing lachrymose eyes
You may not know and no one
Burden of feelings and curse of time passing

Missing of love with mega pain
I am nourished for tomorrow
You may feel the absence of mine
Please excuse me for being like this

Submitted: Friday, September 14, 2012
Edited: Friday, September 14, 2012

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Comments about this poem (To the Daughter by Udaya R. Tennakoon )

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  • Dickson Mseti (9/22/2012 1:52:00 AM)

    A poet is likely to live all emotions when feeling all way around to make his, her works worth it, Nice writing and keep driving those emotions to the other end (Report) Reply

  • Jon Terry (9/17/2012 10:27:00 AM)

    Right then, first of all thank you for inviting me to read your work, as soon as I saw the title to this write I had to read, and it hit me like a tonne of bricks, I feel your pain and share your experiences as we speak. This is truly a beautiful piece of work and I emphasise with every last word. You could have been reading my very thoughts as you wrote this, I offer you my hand in friendship and understanding, and hope to share many pieces of work with you. And well..... about the write itself it flows wonderfully and I salute your talent! !
    Exalt! ! !
    Jon (Report) Reply

  • Www. Poemhunter.com/m-d-dinesh-nair-2 (9/16/2012 7:54:00 AM)

    Poetry is a spontaneous overflow of emotions collected in tranquility, said Wordsworth. Your recollections have a touch of tranquility and superb human sensitivity. A good poem Mr Udaya (Report) Reply

  • Danny Draper (9/14/2012 5:03:00 PM)

    There is certainly plenty of raw emotion and almost pleading in this piece. The pain of absence as a child grows in separation is palpable. It is true that we openly or secretly hope that they may occasionally think of us as all parents have always wondered of their children. It would be beneficial for more contact as the poet seems tortured by the loss. Sad. (Report) Reply

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