Home | Kabir | Poetry | Workshop | BoloKids | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact | Share This Page | Advertise | Phone CardsGift Shop  

Poetry New | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z             Submit a Poem

Editor's Choice of the Week | Poetry Knowledge Zone | Poet of the Week | Themes | Articles /Interviews

Channels
In Focus

Analysis  
Bolography  
Cartoons
Environment   
Opinion 

Columns
 My Word 
 PlainSpeak 
 Random Thoughts 
Our Heritage

Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema 
Culture
Dances 
Festivals
Hinduism
History  
People  
Places 
Sikhism
Spirituality 
Vastu 
Vithika  

Society & Lifestyle

Family Matters 
Health
Parenting
Perspective 
Recipes
Society
Teens 
Women 

Creative Writings

Book Reviews
Ghalib's Corner
Humor
Individuality
Jagoji
Literary Shelf 
Love Letters  
Memoirs
Musings
Ramblings
Stories
Travelogues

Computing
  General Articles
 
CC++ 
  Flash 
  Internet Security 
 
Java 
 
Linux     
  Networking  
Advertisement
 Boloji Prepaid
 International
 Calling Cards

Theme : Love
My Sonny Boy
by Ramendra Kumar

My idyllic world
Of serenity and calm,
Was destroyed by a gale
That surely meant no harm.

Our little ‘bundle of joy’
Our son entered our life,
And since then peace and quiet
Have forsaken me and my wife.

When the first time ‘sonny’ boy expressed
Through his vocal chords his ire
The neighbors rushed in thinking
Our house was on fire.

As a toddler I thought
He would be the perfect boy
Flashing a dimpled smile and
And sharing his favorite toy.

The dimpled smile was there
But behind it a devilish mind
Planning an assault each moment
On sensibilities of every kind.

Daily he would return from school
With lost buttons, torn shirt and bruises
I would wonder he was pursuing academics
Or going on pirate cruises.

With him around, our house
Looks like a quake hit museum,
Without him our home
Is a gloomy mausoleum.

Like a naughty wave returning to sea
When he rushes into my arms,
I feel fulfilled like a soul
Which is tranquil and calm.

At night when he sleeps
With his head on my lap,
He looks like an angel
Taking a soft and sweet nap.

Whenever I look at my son
I thank the Lord Almighty,
For bringing into my life
His Haiku version, so naughty.

Without him my life would be
Quiet, placid and squeaky clean,
Alas, it would have no substance
Only gloss and silky sheen.

If ever I have loved anyone
With such pure, unadulterated joy,
It is no one else but my super dynamo
My wild and effervescent ‘sonny’ boy. 

February 18, 2007

Top

 
Analysis | Architecture | Astrology | Ayurveda | Book Reviews | Buddhism | Cartoons | Cinema | Computing | Culture | Dances
Environment | Fables | Family Matters | Festivals | Hinduism | Health | History | Home Remedies | Humor | Individuality | Jagoji
Literary Shelf | Memoirs | Musings | Opinion | Parenting | Perspective | Photo Essays | Places | Ramblings
Random Thoughts | Recipes | Sikhism | Society | Spirituality | Stories | Teens | Travelogues | Vastu | Vithika | Women

Home | Bolography | BoloKids | Hindi | Kabir | Poetry | Quotes | Workshop | Writers | Contribute | Search | Contact


Boloji.com is owned and managed by Boloji Media Inc
Privacy Policy | Disclaimer
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder.