tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68987867695581956252024-03-13T14:40:39.810-07:00Let me go moma!!Drunkard cliqueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02804503023013259729noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6898786769558195625.post-2393674925282184662013-10-22T10:39:00.002-07:002013-10-22T10:39:29.371-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sorry friends writing is getting tougher as a result cliques are unable to post anything. But as I was running short of ideas, the cyclone came to rescue me. Yes I repeat Faline cyclone came to rescue me. This poem is about a falling branch and the emotions involved in it grappled me for that night . The falling branch personified!! </div>
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Moma the wind is blowing, see my little ones playing and dancing to the tunes<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hey why aint the grandma letting them dance, let them dingle there aint no fumes<o:p></o:p></div>
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Green they are, fresh they are, Mother its just another afternoon of monsoon<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh sweet child of mine, its no afternoon of monsoon it’s a typhoon<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hold them tightly, hug them tightly, just don’t let them dance to the tunes<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gush of wind without fumes is not always a tune my child, I see a storm in waiting”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The storm arrives, tunes change their beats, decibels raise, nearby families break<o:p></o:p></div>
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The tree with its freshest branches start to break, lighting in the sky, rain and the branch start to fall<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Hold on my child, just don’t bend, your mother is too old to bear this weight<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hold on my child, just don’t bend, your mother is too old too bear this pain”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Moma let me go , I aint go survive this storm , Even if I do they surely aint<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let me go , my dear ones are already kissing the ground , let me do the same<o:p></o:p></div>
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Moma don’t hold on me, I am too young to live with this pain, let me do the same<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Child of yours, the new ones are dear to you, what about the mother of the old<o:p></o:p></div>
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Love grows with ages my dear one, so do the new ones, just let the time pass<o:p></o:p></div>
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The creator of the music is testing your love, he who created the storm will create the tunes too<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tunes will be back, Storms don’t stay, Love will be back, wrath doesn't stay”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Moma don’t worry, surely love grows, so will someone like me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Moma you have others too, Don’t hold on me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Don’t let the burden of all fall on me in heavens, let me have only mine<o:p></o:p></div>
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The last brutal gush of wind, yes she dances, she rocks to the crazy tunes<o:p></o:p></div>
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A final twitch in the wood, the final crack in the wood, the mother lets her child go<o:p></o:p></div>
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There the branch detaches her, just bidding mother the last bye<o:p></o:p></div>
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She is smiling as if heavens are welcoming her; she is smiling as if she is closer to her dear ones<o:p></o:p></div>
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She strikes the ground, the final sound of her body breaking, she surely has passed away<o:p></o:p></div>
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It starts raining, beats turned into tunes, the mother starts rocking the whole family<o:p></o:p></div>
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Every child dances to the tunes, the dance of agony, the dance of pain and vain<o:p></o:p></div>
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Every leaf sheds the raindrops on the ground, their bid adieu to the member<o:p></o:p></div>
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There I was seeing this scene, may be just a branch fell of a tree on a stormy night<o:p></o:p></div>
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Or may be a mother couldn't stop her daughter from dying in vain<o:p></o:p></div>
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Storms or beats, wind or tunes, branches or family, the bark or the mother<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next storm is round the corner, a branch is going to break, a mother is letting her daughter go<o:p></o:p></div>
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You decide<o:p></o:p></div>
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Storms or beats? Wind or tunes? Branches or family? The bark or the mother?</div>
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Drunkard cliqueshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02804503023013259729noreply@blogger.com0