A banyan tree that shields from tropical summer sun
A symbol of selfless love and sacrifice
A preserver of values that modernism has shun
No praise is enough, no gratitude suffice
Her love for her children is like blossom of springs
An angel she appears, a fairy she seems
It’s a symphony for ears, the lullaby she sings
The lullaby that drifts you in the valley of dreams
A teacher, a guide, a philosopher, a friend
An architect, a builder of beauty and grace
A garden of roses that fragrance send
Serenity of a lake where ducklings race
She suckles her babies with white blood of breasts
The hearts yearn for her bosom’s paradise
She strains every nerve, sacrifices her rests
Burning midnight oil with sleepy eyes
The special mothers that God has blessed
Maryam, Khadija, Fatema and Asiya
Women par excellence, mothers at best
Whether in Africa, Asia or the West
Mothers are an oasis in the desert of life
Their love and passion isn’t for display
Chained to the oar in your perils and strife
A shower of rain on a hot summer day
(Dedicated to my mother Begum Najmunnesa, who left me alone in this world at the age of twelve and all the mothers whatever caste, creed, colour, religion and nationality they are. I salute them all)
Copyright © Mohammad Yamin
and in the spring
the children sprout
growing up until they old
reminiscing on the past
So innocent and young
growing old and wise
telling true stories
to the children eyes
some young become old fools
just make sure its not you
and in the spring
the children sprout
growing up until they old
reminiscing on the past
Copyright © Michelle Edwards
Mother Ocean please
Send me waves of such beauty
I need Therapy
Dedicated to my Dad on Father's Day 2013
The man who introduced me to the ocean and educated me about it and gave me reason to love appreciate and respect it.
Copyright © Andrea Rose
The balmy summer breeze
Gently caresses the harvest saffron moon
While it dreams memories of autumn’s golden red kiss
Trees are shedding their emerald green summer tresses
Kindly kissing the Earth as their garments fall gently below
And flowers have shed their vivid colorful dresses
As crimson amber leaves gently anoint the ground for show
While Summer sheds her beautiful clothes -
Mother Nature lovingly seduces her to dream
She's kissed the shore with her elegant colorful attire
She has painted the world with her exquisite apparel
So now it's time for her yearly seasonal retire
She paraded us with her resplendent painted scenes
Blessed the birds in their angelic symphony of songs
So now -it’s time for her to drink the dreams of slumber
Taking the cup of restful sleep - is now where she belongs
She asks the moon to wait patiently...
For her splendid colorful return
When she'll paint the world with her radiant painted tresses
Where once more her regal colors will burn
She'll brush the Earth in regal glorious colors
Dressing up again in her brilliant, picturesque dresses
As the ruby red blaze of autumn begins to kiss the Earth
With her dazzling hues of gold and coral valor
But before she goes...
She gently reaches out with her one last caress...
Softly whispering as she sweetly kisses the moon
”It’s time now for fall - it’s time for me to undress”
She softly breathes her dulcet ending tune...
"Goodnight", she gently whispers ...
"I’ll see you soon Mr. Moon
Please...will you wait for my return?
Quietly - she drifts into her splendid, peaceful dreams…
Slumbering peacefully -
Safely harbored in Mother Nature’s loving arms
As mellow zephyrs gently caress autumn's waiting whispers
While the moon drizzles its shimmering dusty charms
Serenading nature with his soft silvery tune
As this luminous gleaming Luna Mister
Cordially opens his welcoming hands
To September's colors of orange and golden browns
Awaiting the arrival of dancing petals
As he gently embraces autumn's leaf draped lands
Next he’ll greet the season’s sister
From the pristine silverblue Northern Isles...
Awaiting dancing ivory snowflakes he'll cheerfully greet winter
With his warm welcoming golden smile
Copyright © anne p. murray
A cold summer night
Everyone was asleep
A familiar voice
I know it was mom’s…
A sweet lullaby
Playing in my ears
We walked in the dark
As she calm my bare fears.
The taste of her grief
Fell in my cheeks
I wondered why
She wore a sad lip.
She let me sleep
In an empty box
I felt the best touch
A last goodbye kiss.
Copyright © Lei Strauss
A flower as blue as the sea,
A flower as green as green tea.
A flower as yellow as a bee,
A flower as gold as a key.
A flower as purple as a plum,
A flower as pink as a drum.
A flower as orange as a jet,
I wonder if I can get
any flowers for my mother.
Copyright © Aunika Alch
I do not know?
Summer dress she sews
Until her fingers bleed
Mending and mourning
Memories that will never be
Earsplitting new silence
Running through each stitch
Dress, mustard colored with stars
Embroidered with sadness, by confusion
A nightmare from which she can’t awaken
The last thing she will ever wear
Her summer dress made in grief
Death came for her too soon
Roses, white, will rest on her
Embraced by heaven’s angels
She is beautiful in the summer dress
Stitched by her sorrow stricken mother
Copyright © Marilin Rodriguez
Marching across my pantry shelf
Jars filled with summer's bounty sweet
Jams and jellies, and all kinds of fruit
But much more than just a savory treat
The effort to reap nature's gifts
Something so satisfying for me
Appreciating all the earth gives
Food and satisfaction, nearly free
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick
just because you see me walking down 'ho boulevard does not mean i'm for sale...
i don't have an advertising sign up inviting you to taste and see
a woman can't walk down the street in broad daylight
dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweats
rockin' an afro puff on a hot summer day
without being propositioned
in violation of my rights as a woman to be free from sexual harassment
and I’m mad about it
my “NO” to your obnoxious offer is real talk
and you should know the difference between what’s for sale
and what’s not on the auction block
an' lef’ muh tuh walk in peace
makes a woman want to carry a concealed weapon
and go blasting
could never walk the hallways
play in the yard
or even pray
without somebody bothering me
pulling on my clothes
or grabbing at me
for some sick reason
the next one is going to get a surprise
an' lef’ muh tuh walk in peace
~in honor of the women who have walked ahead of me...
(c) 2011 PoetryofMotion!
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Poetry Dancer
In search of summer though hopeless but in vain I cry for summer. Pain broken heart sorrows and hopelessness I had to deal with to get to my destination. Pain over here pain over there, left abdicated in the mystery of nowhere caught in the wrong chemistry. Locked and forgotten my days are over my life is useless at this point, my illusions are devastated I have no future. Been alone in this small cell is my new world, have not learned my mistakes but have learned that life is what you lead it to be missing those wonderful summer moments. It might sound surprising that am not longing to change but looking forward to full filling my dreams. Enjoyable were those days as I made it seem like heavens belong to me, i governed my clan as my name was praised. With the honour of who I was a great drug dealer which am still not regretting, I did what I had to do to obtain my pride. As my mum ruins my world it was like I were never me it was painful it was heartless of her those names she called me "A bastard child, a mistake" I had no other choice. To thee who gave us life To thee who protects us to thee who sees all I prayed to recommending that I have no rights to question him why for he is the almighty and his ways are unquestionable.
Dealing with the agony days after days years after years it kept getting deadlier, I have pleaded, I have suffered I was forced to live again. I felt it was high time to agree on a solution as i made up my mind to rebel, though my beloved mother choose drugs against my life. The love I alter for her never did change an will never. I can still see it happening it was not my intentions to take her life I was only trying to protect my self but things happen. I wasn’t happy neither was I dismal I was at a certain point satisfied. Turning around walking away, my body felt cold my heart felt heavy and empty, I was no more myself I felt different I felt brave I didn’t feel guilty taking the life of the person who gave me life and tampered with it boldly I delivered myself to the police, I murded her I murdered my mother in tears I shout. With 17 in jail and so shall it be till I rot in here. God is with me as I am with myself.
She left in summer by my force as i was born in summer in her pain.
Copyright © betty njie
The shore is what I have seen since I was little
when I grew up it was so far in the distance to see.
Walking the distance when I was a child I was so brittle
to notice the path was so warn out to me.
The little strides I took was not so bad
it was just how it ended up when my mother had my hand.
She pointed out to the horizon to make me glad
that I could look out and see the sand.
The look in her eyes was so beautiful
it was one of those moments that can be captured.
My mother showed me the path and told me to be careful
to not worry about the pain she pictured.
The final walk up to get home was a bummer
because it was the sign that ended my time their.
My time at the beach and the sea was the end of summer
that is when I said, I will be back I swear.
The path might be warn more and more out
even when time passes and when I get older.
My memories of my mother and I will last with out a doubt
with time I get smarter and much bolder.
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
She had a baby
today. She's only sixteen.
Long summer days soon.
Copyright © Cathy Ncube
I do not know?
My joy at its best, my hurt at its worst.
My joy at your conception and my belly swelling.
My hurt at your birth with waves of contractions.
My joy at your first steps in those booties I knitted.
My hurt as you fell down and bumped your head.
My joy at your first word spoken mama.
My hurt when we argued about a sleepover and you cried I hate you.
My joy over your first report card with all the A’s.
My hurt when you were expelled from eighth grade for possession.
My joy when you took responsibility young man and changed your ways.
My hurt as you leaned on my shoulder and cried over losing your first love.
My joy in your pride after working the summer to buy your first car.
My hurt that you are no longer my little baby but a young man.
I am forever a woman in motherhood,
My joy at its best and my hurt at its worst.
Copyright © Summer Gratias
A baby's basket
bounced two-times two.
Circled chimed towers ring
downtown beep-bop to the rhythm.
Enjoy the music; birds
fly over docks. It's the busy bouncing
great city street lights that
hit the road, shimmer in the dark.
I enjoy watching you dance to the music,
June. The jungle summer parties
kaput from hard rain last summer and were
laden with children screaming
"Mommy, I can't find you."
Nothing stops your dancing. You're
oblivious unless the music stops. I
pace the streets of the city's heart and
quadruple the center of the streets core, two-times-ten
ready to run, run when I know it's your
sassy sway from side to side 'till you
turn in his arms, a fall light as yogurt. It's
undeniable that this baby's basket can bounce, bounce, bounce, so
vulnerable to the splitting of the wood and the crying of the child's
watery mucus clogs her throat and all you hear is wah, wah, wah when
Xenon cries, like cheese cloth dipped in chocolate; hard to hear the
yelling when all you comprehend are feet tapping and music moving all around like
zig, zag, zook until you collapse, cause all you knew was dance, dance, dance.
Copyright © Cynthia Green
berries we have picked
are still warm from summer sun---
mom has ruby lips
Traditional Haiku Contest: Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Carrie Richards
It's summer again
And I hate it
Your abuse is worse in summer
Every summer you do this to me
You call me horrid names
You hurt me physically and mentally
And I'm sick of
I just want to runaway but
If I did then you would be hurt you
I know you don't mean doing these things
Don't you understand what it does to me
You say you care about me
But do you really
You know, I don't care anymore
I cared for years
But now you've gone too far
You're taking me away from
My friends, my boyfriend and even family
Why do you do this
Is it because you hate me
Even if you do
I have too much heart to hate you back
I want to kill you
I really do
But if I do then I might as well kill my self
Ha! There you go again
You're now going to beat me
because I said 'I love you'
I sigh and go to my room
I pack my bags and leave a note
Saying how much I hate you
I bet you're crying and I'm happy
I'm happy you feel distraught
I hope you have a horrible life starting now
Copyright © Autumn Kire
At times, she is pleasant. Other times, she broods.
Mother Nature has many, ever-changing moods.
How will the lady be acting today?
What can we expect on this summer day?
Will she bless us with sunshine, or inveigh?
As a mere mortal, I cannot say.
There may be weather as pleasant as can be.
Things can start being hot and sultry.
Without warning, she unleashes her fury.
The wind kicks up to a ferocious velocity.
Some dark, ominous clouds stretch across the sky.
Loud thunder I hear, lightning I see with my eye.
Anytime, a vehement summer storm can begin.
Is the lady paying us back for our sin?
Copyright © Robert Pettit
Of Spring-Summer Time
Sun glimmers, on morning dew
Clouds part to let the sunshine thru
Blossoms observe the sun
Move thru sky
Spring conveys fresh little puddles
Rendering it all clear
Their glories of the day
Gracefully, mighty oaks trees wave
Blue Jays perched, on a rose bush
A panoply of Pansies appear
Like window-boxes incessant as sunshine
Which blossom at her feet
As morning fades
In stoic silence
Butterflies, delicately, flutter,
Amid the flowers
On wet verdant grass, she tumbles
The fragrant air smells as clean
As newly cut grass
Beyond the majestic forest
Bouquet of roses, jasmine encase her
Whilst, the temperature is still low
Flowers wave a genial hello
Meandering as a cloud
Her heart with pleasure fills
Like a river, that flows to sea
Adjacent a lake, less the trees
Childhood memories precede her
Taste, sound, smells, remembered
Continuous, as the sunshine, in meadow
Memories, of a gone Spring-Summer Time
Copyright © jeanine dejesus