Mamta Agarwal Poems

At times the only warmth, colour
Touch, contact, fragrance
Comes from a steaming
Cup of tea.
...

Slipped into bed and began to review,
The year that had gone, with a distant view.
Sky, a shade of grey pearls, on full moon night.
On last day and hour of year, ah, so bright.
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Is it worth bringing a child into the world, mother?
Terror has taken over our lives, lamented my daughter…
Her question haunted me, and I pondered a while.
Life is so precious, yet so ephemeral and fragile.
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Purple red cherries
Visual treat arranged by hawker,
Tightly nestled in
Card board boxes.
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Baby

Like flowers reaching for Sun, baby sucks ma's breast.
Petals open kissed by light, baby smiles content.
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The café was packed-event,
Book release and reading of excerpts
From ‘love and Longing’
A compilation of letters
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Scattered by the broken string, bent to pick the beads.
You stood with some in cupped hands, did you my thoughts read?
Led me gently to balcony, to show Laburnum bloom.
Clusters of bright yellow flowers watch them with awe, droop.
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It’s futile to waste energy,
Don’t try to tempt me
With that plea
In your eyes.
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Grey pigeon flutters on ledge of concrete.
Wonder, how it survives on urban streets.
Seen them flock in city squares as folks throw seeds.
Unlike hawks don’t swoop down and snatch with greed.
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