ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET

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  • Family
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  • Passion
    • Arutee4ever
    • is same person as Raymond Tom Oyil of "raycreations", a literary outfit in my room which contains all my published and unpublished works, including an autobiography, BORN TO LIVE, published in 2008 in commemoration of my diamond jubilee on planet earth. I am a retired, but tireless and hungry seeker of knowledge through reading, writing, observing, deep thinking and evoking and accepting constructive criticism. Please read and comment on my poems. All my love.

    Poem Commentary

    The "nestlings" have attained adulthood and left. The "nest" is now "empty" with Momsy and Papsy left alone at home. This poem reminds our adult children who are in far away lands and not caring for their parents back home, about the energies, resources and effort which were spent by their parents in raising them to maturity and the need for them to reciprocate.  

    ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET

    When your mother's monthly period failed to flow
    We knew you had been wonderfully formed in her womb
    Two options stared us on the face: to abort or to let you grow
    We chose the latter and prayed God to let you bloom

    With your Mom, that caring, faithful love of my life
    Who kept you warm, safe and ensconced in her womb
    I shared dutifully the lingering anxieties and mental strife
    Of your conception, gestation, foetal phase and bloom

    For nine months we watched, prayed and waited for you
    To come to this wide, wicked and difficult world of gloom
    We toiled, prepared, suffered and endured to avoid doom
    Until safely but perilously, through the birth canal you loomed

    We ensured we were always there for you; we held you sweet
    When you yelled, sneezed, coughed, yawned or showed pain
    We fretted, worried and lost appetite for food, rest and sleep
    And offered you milk, shelter and made you breathe without pain

    What a small bundle of blessing, joy and hope you were!
    All our energies, resources and youth we squeezed just for you
    That you, your siblings and others may eat, grow, play and school
    The nest is now empty and with us your love you are not ready to share

    Nevertheless, we give you all our blessings, goodwill, prayers and love
    May you receive from God and your offspring whatever you give to us!
    Lest you forget, your father and your mother you must give honour
    To elongate your life which is still very, very precious to us


    Copyright Ray Oyil (2009)
    Arutee4ever 

    Poem Comments

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    bandit1192 commented on ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET

    08-07-2009

    I feel the joy and pain in your words. I know first hand what you are writing about. My poem The Journey mirrors your poem. The only difference is my daughter and I found each other again. I also know the unending parental love that you will always feel toward your daughter. My thoughts and prayers go out to you. TS
    Reply to Comment

    Arutee4ever

    08/08/2009

    Hi bandit 1192! Thanks. We're together.

    Paolo commented on ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET

    07-27-2009

    This work speaks of love for a child, no more a celebration of a child. It would be my wish that every child would know this of their parents. I recall my feelings when my son was born to me and how words failed me for the first time in my life. I call my son, "Beloved", because of what he has meant to me and the words here are what I would have said had I them then. Thank you for sharing them.
    Reply to Comment

    RHPeat commented on ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET

    07-08-2009

    Some of this hits home with me, I know what you are talking about and feeling deeply. I left a poem I wrote on your subject on the challenge board. Maybe some others will post a poem on the same subject. Later. A poet friend//RH Peat
    Reply to Comment

    Arutee4ever

    07/09/2009

    Thanks. I am heading for the challenge board right now to read your poem and compare notes. Poems actually show the universality of human thoughts.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Arutee4ever’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    HER NAME IS "MOTHER" 1 10/21/2009
    MOTHER 0 10/06/2009
    ERRANT CHILD, LEST YOU FORGET 3 07/05/2009
    A NOTE FOR THE LIVING WHEN I DIE 2 02/02/2009
    WHEN I DIE 1 07/13/2009
    TIME 2 02/01/2009
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