by Poulome Mitra Shaw
All my dreams were caring women with hips and generous bosoms.
With the tender moon tucked within
With every disenchantment in their stride
They always walked back home
religiously, oh so religiously every night
without pleading with the closed doors
to unafraid beds violating the nightmares seen
They were caring women with forgiving hearts and large kind eyes
I always knew all my dreams were Mother's within.
They let go of all the verses that had baubles of disdain
I always knew all my dreams were Women within
They let go of every stab, every excess untold
I always knew my dreams never trembled
even when nightmare played out its role
They were compassionate women with tender smiles and loving arms.
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This is a great post.
ReplyDeleteI really like what you have written.
Well done!
Beautiful poem ..as lovely as the women in it
ReplyDeleteThis is an interesting metaphor. The flow is nice ; I enjoyed reading this.
ReplyDelete