Skip to main content

A Mother's Winter


A MOTHER'S WINTER



I pray to God you never know,
My prayers are never answered though.
The winter's dark and dreary here,
All that's wicked is masked with snow.

See you yonder a man so queer
Who wanders far when death is near?
Is that the Reaper on the lake,
From whom I've fled all through the year?

With frightful fear I sit and shake,
My child I've made a huge mistake.
I pray my errors you do sweep,
And flee this winter's frost and flake!

Hurry now, child, into the deep,
Glance not behind, my promise keep.
Shelter find and a place to sleep
While with God's angels must I sleep.


- Maryam Kaleem



If you find the poem vaguely familiar, it's because I've used the end-rhymes from the famous poem 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost, and have re-written the rest of the poem. This was a fun experiment. Hope you like it!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Girl Who Sold A Basket

      THE GIRL WHO SOLD A BASKET        Every morning my father made me go to the station at Deoli and sell the baskets which my younger sister and I would make. Deoli is a very small station and only a few trains would pass by. Father had met with an accident a year ago, and ever since he has been unable to work at the wood factory. Selling baskets was the only means left for us to earn money. With what little we earned, we managed to survive.        I was only fourteen then, and being the chirpy sort, I found it troublesome to sell baskets each day. The Deoli station hardly had any excitement; a tea stall, a fruit vendor, a newspaper seller and the office of the station master. That was all. No one got on the trains that passed, and no one got off.        Summer was the only time I enjoyed my duty. Deoli itself didn't bring any change, but the trains did. The passengers were more and there would be more noi...

For King and Country

FOR KING AND COUNTRY An august procession of the kingdom's riches, Elephants, camels, cows and dogs Marching in a strict order of ambling lines To the right of the barracks, Or to the far left of the the nurse's tent, Or right in the middle of the battlefield - Where the two armies meet, Dressed in full armour, With helm and horn, White gauntlets charmed against The Witch's Sun, Robes to cover every inch of skin from his poison And a visor to screen the soulful eyes From the wretched workings of the enemy. Flags and banners fly proudly high, Horns blow wildly and raise furore (And so do the bells of the bulls As they march by.) But spirits rise higher still! Bold knights willing to breach their lines, Break free from regiments and rush To a martyr's noble, honored fate. And some of sturdier metal Stand their ground and await The King's orders (For perhaps a khaki clad ambush Lies in wait ahead.) Had this fores...

Unwebbed

UNWEBBED With cool dew waking up the drowsy woods, Dazed by the perfume of jasmines divine, Amidst a lush labyrinth of lilting leaves, Lies a flimsy dwelling of glassy white. Eight fingers crawl between the latticed blinds Expanding their fortress, conquering woods, Circling, ensnaring the innocent fly, Trapped within blades of the hypnotic web. Pleased with her might, tarantella performed, A commanding glory, to her is due - But a little songbird comes bolting through, The fortress vanquished, dauntlessly it flew. Credulous be that flies to traps and death, With wide wings, rather soar to challenge threats. - Maryam Kaleem