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Shreekumar Varma

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Member Since: Oct, 2003

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Art of Cycling
by Shreekumar Varma

Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Shreekumar Varma
•  Kumarakom
           >> View all 2

This was written, as you must have guessed, when my first son got his first cycle. A father often feels he's gifting his youth to his son.

the red new bike, barely smaller than his eight year-old frame

totters in a straining arc of steel and young thigh,

the quick of possession has already settled to drudgery and fear,

and his rolling screams are repeating a pattern.

i can close my eyes and doodle away those days of sentiment

like fluorescent on virgin canvas.

my dreams are squeezed out in futile doses

let me pause and guide him on his way

and pat him for his speed, encourage him to take the curves

explain afresh the pleasures of dangerous riding

to race the steeps and dare the climb abetted by the wind.

there's no life in cruising, son, your father's hopes are done.

let's tell them no, the rules of championship aren't weakened yet:

on a summer's day, there's much to be said for a marathon.
A Writer's World- Poems
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Reviewed by Shoma Mittra 4/9/2006
Yes, we do tend to relive our lives through our children and that is one of a kind of happiness. Welcome to the Den ! :-)


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