Blossoms At Thy Feet Poem by Amar Agarwala

Blossoms At Thy Feet

Rating: 5.0

Those strands of grey on your temples
Creased brows in a smirch stained plea,
Those dark circles around your eyes
I know they have come for me.

Those gallons that you have sweated
Managing our home and hearth,
Endless pains you have writhed in
Since the time you gave me birth.

Can vouch for the wrinkles many
That line your beautiful face,
That hurtful quiver of your lips
You lovingly veiled with grace.

Those coarse varicose hands of yours
From toil and labors of home,
Affections I took for granted
Your needs buried by a gnome.

I reminisce your scolding harshly
Leaving home in irate din,
Not knowing the pain I caused you
And how your heart bled within.

Your lap so comforting and warm
Whereupon I soundly slept,
But never did I care for times,
When you have silently wept.

All my failures you stoutly bore
While you kept me in your shade,
But those little follies of yours
Ugly hills of them I had made.

You cried with me when I was hurt
Smiled when was joyous with glee,
You held me close to your bosom
When I saw my shadow flee.

I know your loving tender touch
Your pride at my growing so,
You have held me deep in heart
Though times I took you as foe.

Wish had loved you more than I did
Grave folly this life of mine,
Yet, you have ever forgiven
Saying, that I've always been thine.

Have never seen the face of God
Yet I know how he would be,
When I gaze at your gentle eyes,
He peeps through them at me.


Blossoms At Thy Feet
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: mother and child

Was reading a wonderful poetry about a mother in the home page of this site. It is how she and her paramour murdered their little daughter and the father in cold blood, so that she could elope. A true story, very well expounded in a poem by the poet. Was moved and appalled. Remember, penning down a few verses on what Mothers are, and felt I could share it with my fellow poets and thinkers.

I know, today is not Mother's Day, but if I have known correctly, isn't everyday theirs!
Geeta Radhakrishna Menon 24 March 2017

Have never seen the face of God Yet I know how he would be, When I gaze at your gentle eyes, He peeps through them at me. Hello Amar, i just read your poem dedicated to your sweet Mother. I am deeply touched. So beautifully you have expressed the deep love you have for your mother. A wonderful photograph. Is that little boy, You? S very cute! I just cannot leave this page without giving you a full 100

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Amar Agarwala 24 March 2017

Dear Dr.Menon, Let me first thank you for responding to my request of reading this poem. I am happy that you liked the verses, happier that you could identify the love ensconced in them so easily. When I read your poem about your mother - I instantly connected the feelings, therefore the request. Yes, this the oldest picture my mother could find of ours... I was barely two years old then. I cannot thank you for the marks... it would be too small a gesture. But do know that you have left a poet motivated and much inspired. It could only come from a poet and a deep thinker of your caliber. I know from your words that you too believe that - The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Rules The World! Warm Regards!

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