Category Archives: Poems

Unadulterated

You paused.
With the teat still in your mouth, you stopped drinking.
You looked up, and broke into the widest smile.
Oh how you must love
Being in your mother’s arms.
Life outside the womb can sometimes be cold,
But life in love’s embrace can warm a frozen soul.
Unadulterated.
Your love for Mama and Mama’s for you.
And as you grow, and as you go
Exploring the world and uncovering your soul
May the journey’s bumps and this life’s detours
Always bring you back to the arms
Of unadulterated Love.
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Into the Mirror

Into the mirror I took a glance
To see if you might be asleep by any chance
You see, my dear
You were lying on my chest as I carried you.
I could feel your breath, each in and each out
I could hear your sighs, but your eyes I could not see
For there are many things we never catch sight of
Not for the lack of vision,
but for the same reason why nobody can see his own back.
Into the mirror I took a glance
Rarely do I see your face and mine.
Together.
Selfies together do not count
For selfies dissolve the natural looks of our countenance.
My son, what a splitting image you are of me.
Your eyes – they remind me of your mother.
Our same-nesses bring joy,
but also along with it, trembling.

Room for Three

I used to say “a Queen is too small!

There’s not enough space for me!”

But when you’ve arrived

I moved me aside,

And somehow we’ve made room for three.

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Whimpers

Your little arms flailed

Your little voice wailed

With a loudness that betrayed your smallness

Papa makes his living in part from his ability to read and feel emotions

But in those times, I couldn’t read you.

What were your tears about, I ask often in my office.

But I couldn’t ask you.

Were you angry? Frustrated? Or as they call it.. ‘over-tired’?

Then just as quickly as you started wailing

You stopped.

The neck you can barely hold up on your own stopped bobbing as you found rest in the cleavage of your daddy’s man boobs.

The wailing turned to bare whimpers.

‘Jesus loves me this I know…’ I begin as your eyes begin to close into barely a slit.’

You smile to yourself, let out a sigh and fall asleep.

It has not always been this way, and neither will it always be.

I feel like a father.

I stroke your little head. I kiss your forehead.

Determined, if only for that moment, to savour these fleeting flashes of fatherhood.

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