Feneena S Mohamed Poems

I have never been
The ideal mother;
Nor a perfect teacher,
A poor preacher.
...

It sat, its feet
Firm, grounded to the earth;
but heart scooped out-
Hollow; chunks of hollowness
...

It is just our daughter's marriage-
coming Sunday.
The boy is in the Gulf.
...

Waters, juicy chambers,
Devouring hungry tongues,
Amidst media prattle
on feets and inches.
...

Cornflakes,
For breakfast;
Perhaps boiled eggs too.
...

I wish, I could
Step inside the temple compound-
Sit under the sprawling banyan tree,
Eye the windy leaves, while
...