Two poems by Meenakshi Mohan

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The Poet (For my grandson when he was four)

He comes with sure intent

Each waddling step marks,

A widening grin, his laugh

Jingles in the mint of his eyes,

And a rubber world drops

Out of his outstretched hands,

And bounces away –

He climbs on the roof of the desk,

A gesture of the hands

With the impatience of kings

Sweeps off my cares –

Papers, bills, checkbook and all,

As pen in hand,

He scratches a poem for me!

kiMbernaT

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The Last Farewell (For a dear friend who recently passed away)

Pleadingly, you looked at me,

Your hands held mine, tight,

Eyes spoke, lips did not move,

The ambulance outside glared –

Shrill sounds and blazing lights,

Two men carried you.

Hopelessly, you looked back for the last time.

The door closed behind you –

The remains of the siren stole through the house,

Where your slippers waited,

An endless wait!

 

Meenakshi Mohan

Meenakshi Mohan has taught for over two decades in America, having earned a Doctoral degree from Chicago in Educational Administration with a focus on Early Childhood. She has published papers and books and has been included twice in the Who’s Who among American Teachers.

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