Wednesday 20 March 2013

Mom and Babe Thanks to thou

Mom and Babe - Thanks to thou

Exhausted and Sapped as I return,
His captivating looks waiting I discern,
Gone are my numerous sulken sores,
And liberated I feel from saddled chores.
I cuddle and clasp my chubby cheek
Eternally rejoice with his dimple deep,
I dance and play to his glowing eyes,
Truly succumb to his infectious smiles,
Enthralled with his carefree giggle,
Intoxicated I exult to his triumphant mingle.

Contented my eyes grin to his mother dear,
And we relive those days anxious and of fear,
Her jubilant eyes, longing and expectant,
Once rosy, her face then pale and distant,
Eyes and ears tuned to the tummy tight,
Gazing movements listening for chords to be right,
Heart synchronizing to the soft thumps within,
Mind evaluating developments of bud there in,
Thoughts perpetually nurturing chaste and pure,
Listening, viewing, reading accounts of yore.

An aura buoyant even when he lay tacit in bed,
A reason to celebrate on his quest for getting up,
His first turn, to his nascent smile in response,
Complacent for us, looking forward to next stance,  
His toil to touch, hold to fingers tight, 
Giving a strength unseen, coveted support in sight,  
His strive to stride on his tender knees,
Muttering first syllables, rewarding with ease.
Mesmerized of his innocent daily trots,
I glance at her, glued to zoom saving sweet records.

Her carefree jigs then paving to stealthy steps,
Avoiding jerks and chance for slightest distress,
The slender stature graduating to stout and plump,
Giving space ample to flex and let baby crop,
Physically professed, mentally attuned although,
Strong for sure, clasping for support even though,
Desisting obsessions, all once fret - embracing,
Only for one - eating, drinking, working and resting.
Her paced months dreaming through day, living with inlay dwell,
I gaze at past, the sigh sublime to his mystic charm swell.    

Her journey of nine months with him in womb,
And excursion with him for next nine along,
A cautious endeavour then with plans profuse,
Pasturing to moments of treasure, trance in truce,
Anxious hours of testing, operating, waiting for news,
Treading to his tiny figurine laden with plentiful amuse,
No pain, no fear, no sorrow or shame developed,
But aches, craves, ecstasy and pride for sure cropped,
I wonder still to know which to call more divined,
For one is route, the other the fruit entwined.

(Devoted to a mother and child.
Dedicated to my wife and nine month old son.)

Note : As already stated in the dedication above, the poem is inspired sheer observation and experience of my life in the nine months pre and post birth of my son.

It was crafted in Aug 2009 and was originally posted on . The link to the page is as follows :   

Photo : Courtesy Internet

Request : Your feedback is a motivator. Do spare some of your valuable time to help me write better.

Aditya Sinha


  1. Beautiful poem. Laden with love and caring.

  2. Thanks a Lot Rathna. Just tried to weave feelings into words. Do keep spending time here.