Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.
She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.
But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.
Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.
Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."
She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.
I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.
I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.
Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.
Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.
Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!
1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest
Love is all I have to give.
Gentle describes my touch.
I will give you all that I have.
Though, I will never ask for much.
Peace is what I bring to your mind.
Hope is what I bring to your soul.
The words that I speak are poetic.
My words are worth more than gold.
God will bring us together.
Our bond will never be undone.
I will be there to help fight your battles;
Though the war may not have yet been won.
I have always been there for you.
Sometimes you let me pass you by.
I will still do all I can to make you happy.
I will console you when you need to cry.
You sometimes look me over.
Though, I will be who you turn to in the end.
I have come to this world in many forms.
I have been your mother, your sister, your friend.
So take this time to acknowledge me.
Give me the recognition I am due.
I am the embodiment of a woman.
A woman that has always been true.
Do not take my love for granted.
Do not toss me aside like a jacket that is worn.
Many of you have heard the saying;
“There is nothing like a woman scorned”.
My heart is a precious gift.
Do not give me pleasure, and then give me pain.
Do not disrespect my body.
Do not take my name in vain.
Please remember who I am.
Acknowledge who I will be in the end.
Know that someday with or without you.
I will be someone’s mother, sister or friend.
A wedding is about the bride and groom
So why does everyone jump to assume
That they're opinions means the bible
It's mothers and daughters that create this vicious cycle
Moms want to throw their daughter the best day ever
They're reluctant to think their dreams aren't the brides endeavor
Its one day in life
With all strings attached
My energy sure feels the bite
No matter how hard you try,
People flake or become insane
You begin to wonder, why?
Then Eloping doesn't sound so mad
All that matters is the bride walks down the isle with the dad
The groom takes her hand
A strong love is witnessed and spread across the land.
Daughters keep your head and will strong
It's about you and the groom,
That's where the power belongs
Don't let other steal your focus
The moment you say “no”
Treasured friendships may become bogus
Everyone else, keep your mouth shut
Wish there was a nicer way to say this,
I'll just be blunt
Doesn't matter what you think or do
For once in your life,
This day isn't about you!
I laugh as I think of it now, the dire warnings of hell
Nothing could scare me it didn’t matter, on this teaching I never did dwell.
I wondered why one dark night, again begging for sleep.
No fear of death of dying no foolish promises to keep.
It was then I found the answer as I slipped down through the floor
Could this be a dream or am I now no more.
Has death come upon me, I feel the air exude from my chest
Through eons of time yet seconds, maybe days or years at best.
Before me an evil thing but there are no brimstone and flames
“Now we will see this hell you mocked and you will know my name.
You never flinched about the hell threat but you are now here
Not only that I am your father and now you will know real fear.”
He breathed in deep; my skin scorched, it left my body in one piece
The agonies, I must be dead my skin floating in front just like a fleece
My muscles sinews and skeleton were all that I now had
“I thought you were my father I screamed you can’t treat me this bad.”
A thousand legions of devils all came round mocking me
Each breath they turned my way seemed to rip parts off of me
“You will learn to master them but until then you have to pay
You start at the bottom in this work.” then the hounds of hell did bay.
“To inflict the tortures required to give me the satisfaction
You must first suffer them all, that is my attraction.
When you have suffered them all you will know what to do
My work will be in your hands this is my legacy to you.”
“But how can you be my father?” I screamed as the hell hounds tore at me
“My mother was the sweetest woman on earth and all around could see.”
“Ha! I am the devil why would I want a whore,
They are already down here; it was sweetness I searched for.”
“Your mother scorned me, she did not believe in all the hellish games I play
So I showed her my powers and you are with me from this day.
You should have listened to the teachers teaching of my home called hell.”
He waved his finger at me and the screams I could not quell.
Now I wish I had listened and taken an earthly fear
It could have made a difference, I may not now be here.
I take delight in dismembering and gouging out the eyes
Flaying the skin off the ungodly, yet I do it for a prize.
One day I will rule this place then my turn will come
I’ll leave this underworld one day and do what my father has done
I’ll take a woman for my wife the sweetest there ever walked
And pass on my inheritance to the offspring that hell balked.
the season I turned eleven
was the season that I died
there'd been blood betrayal and famine
and I thought I had survived
my neighbor killed my kitten
and for that I could not cry
my mother went to handle it
told me to stay inside
i sat poised in an armchair
trying to calm my mother down
while I could feel nothing
we knew she'd made him drown
the woman was a laundress
washed other people's clothes
didn't like the stink of pig sties
it offended her frail nose
the wash-board on the right side
where the pigs did have their homes
was the one she always gave me
like the left one was her own.
only when a pig was hanging
would she demand to trade
i'd wash next to a hog's corpse
a choice could not be made.
then one day I got angry
and I dared to move her clothes
i moved them to the right side
as the rage inside me rose
the woman tapped my window
and said your cat is dead
it was two days before Christmas
she roused me from my bed
there was display of feeling
tears could not be be shed
gray fades to black
hello sadness my old friend
You started as a droplet inside a shell,
Warm, languid, liquid.
Now that safe harbour,
Has turned you into a sea.
To create you, every wonderful thing I've thought,
Every ray of light I've ever seen,
Was harnessed in that single drop.
To nourish...to divide,
Cell by cell
Pouring forward from me,
Toward my ultimate worth.
I didn't know it,
But until that point,
My world had been flat.
You helped me peek over the edge,
We looked into an unfolding universe,
Then you jumped with me!
A galaxy of light and giggles
Radiated through me,
To get to you.
Spirit and Soul,
Light and Hope.
You are so much more
Than an extension
Of my heart or limb.
I am, because of you.
You are, because of me.
Forever bundled in love,
I get to be your Mother.
A figure in darkness
Cradleing a small package
Trots up the stony ridge of stairs
In the night clouds cover the horizon
No stars can be seen from the gloomy street
A single lantern is lit and the only light
A woman with the hood drawn above her head
Lays a child upon the doorstep of a lonely family
She touches her fingers to her mouth
Then to the child's forehead
A tear filled with happy memories
Lands upon the baby's hand
With one last look
The woman disappears into darkness
As swiftly as she appeared
And the baby gave a cry of sadness
Then all became silent
Can I maintain this life
Without begging Christ
To save me
From the life he gave me
Can I walk to the plot
To where lays my father death spot
And stand over his grave
His life is with me acknowledgement
I’m is daughter but I wasn’t with him his last dying days
Tears seem to not fall from my eyes
Because I know emotion will not grow him back
And the last words that utter from my mouth will be with me until the day that I’m
dead they are now un-depart able bitter words that has now been said
They say Gods give you nothing you can’t bare
Trying time he’s given me trying times is in me
I dream of some better days
As a young child proven educate with good grades
Wanted to be a woman at a young age
Started working on my life
Tried to blackout every thing in my life that went wrong
Even as a minor I promise god that all my struggling was going to make me
But lost in the mine set that I had no one to carry with me
Turn my back on the people that had given me life
Told them I didn’t need them so forget their advice
I broke them down to the same feeling that rooted bitterness
Spoke for me took hostage over my pride
But each heart beat I wanted I wanted them to reach for me because all I wanted
was to be their child
They say Gods give you nothing you can’t bare
Trying times he’s given me trying times is in me
Fast I was moving
Tried I was getting
Still I wasn’t not going to stop
Because I will never give up
I instill in myself as long as I don’t misused my body and educate my mine
There was nothing that could harm me Nothing
Suddenly everything that I was reaching for turn around and ran from me
And for the first time in my life I wanted good to save me
I barely stop myself from falling to my knees begging him to free me
For now I could see
My daddy deceased
My mother sickly
And soon I will be a woman
For I will be no ones child
I feel as if I’m not ready
They say Gods give you nothing you cant bare
Trying time he’s given me trying times is in me
(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.
(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.
(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.
(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.
(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.
I sing of a special mother
One like no other
One bothered about another
A mother who smiles and care
One who did nothing but share
It is great to know she is always there
When tear drops she brought a toy
Her whispers sparkles unceasing joy
Her love is stronger than the Helen of Troy
You taught me from wrong to right
You taught me the difference between darkness and light
You taught me to recite the Lord’s Prayer day and night
Envelope yourself in a mothers Love
For she is like an angel from above
Never trade her love for the price of a dove
As we celebrate all mothers in a special way
Thank you for your fidelity, even when we went astray
And above all, thank you for what we are today
He grants the barren woman a home, Like a joyful mother of children.
Praise the LORD! Ps 113:9
A strong woman doesn’t have to have the body that only society wants.
A strong woman doesn’t have to run a marathon.
A strong woman doesn’t have to wear a size zero.
A strong woman doesn’t have to have marvelous muscular masculine legs.
A strong woman doesn’t have to bike up a mountain.
A strong woman doesn’t have to work out for hours to make her tough.
A strong woman has the look of confidence written across her face.
A strong woman still stands tall when she is full of sorrow.
A strong woman does everything at a steady pace.
A strong woman won’t be afraid.
A strong woman keeps her head held high.
A strong wouldn’t care about what she weighed.
A strong woman never gives up.
A strong woman through hard times.
A strong woman is always tough.
Working long hours to make money,
She still makes time to ask,
“How was your day, honey?”
Instead of having a tall, strong stance,
She goes crazy
And she does the Carlton Dance.
She will turn your frown
She will always be there to help you-
For everything you go through.
She will have that shoulder to cry on.
Always- dusk until dawn.
She gives you the clothes on your back.
She gives you the food in your stomach.
She gives you the shelter above your head.
Even when she’s hanging by a thread.
You may say your super-hero is Spiderman…
But my hero is my mom…
Because my mom is a strong woman.
Yeah true she might not be flesh of my flesh or a product of my seed, i may not have carried her in my womb for 9 months but that don't mean I didn't succeed. because u will never be more of a mother than I've proven to be. U will never fill my shoes or be able to
Walk the path that I lead. She means more to me then u ever would she will be more of a woman then u ever could. Although we will never have the same blood run through our veins or the same letters spell out our last name, that doesnt make me any less relevant, matter fact just the opposite because that makes me even more prevalent. The fact that I could take on this child with nothing handed to me but a barely empty baby bag but i did it all not for u but because I could never deny a childs innocence because of your stupidness, or neglect a childs needs, the needs that u never could even see. She too nieve to have been brought up any other way then protected and loved and i refused to have her stay wit u and suffer because u didn't have your head right too preoccupied with u and your loser mans life that u didn't appreciate the gift that god gave u in order to change, u threw away the only life line that could ever save your name. If you had done right by her u could of claimed that title but because the worlds drugs and games got the best of u, u will never be entitled. u will never have any rights u will never hurt this child. Because I would die before Id ever let your influence turn her in to a abuser a loser a liar, before she will ever be a whore a freak before u will ever bring her into a world of prostitution and cheats she will never follow in your steps and be so lazy, so your words on me as a person will never faze me cuz I know what I've done I've seen what she came from and I guareentee her life will be a clean one. You will have no part in having her follow in your footsteps by being used and abused by the same type of worthless men that you've fall victim to. Cuz u chose to repeatedly lay on your back and give all the power to a man, rather then have a spine that was worthy to defend. She will never succumb to the same objects of your defeat. She is worthy of so much more than u ever will be. And that's only because she learned how to be a woman from me! U will never be worthy of calling yourself a mother to the smart independent and strong woman, that she will some day grow to be because I take responsibility for that and I only have wishes that she is not like....but yet better than even me. That she never have any needs that she'd have to rely on any one else for, she will never live off the system in order to pay her bills because she will be a well developed perfectly capable and functioning woman living by her own means making her own rules. Cuz I made it all possible I've given her the tools to be able to go out in the world and succeed and never be used, know that she will surpass every bad decision u chose to do. Because after all her real mama didn't raise no fool!
A granny I might be
A granny I might be
But I can always see
My hair is growing grey
My shape is quite okay
I still love my fashion
I guess it’s still my passion
I always look quite smart and dressy
And very rarely I look messy.
I’m older, but I'm still a lassie
Sometimes me, I do look classy
I would not change a single day
Not ever, not in any way.
How the years they will turn out
Well who knows, I’ll wait that out.
Vera Duggan 13 September 2014
They see strengths
Not the limitations
These are people who will make you proud of yourself
They will tell you why you’re special
Trust you to the point you have to answer their expectations
They make you better than you normally are
You can be proud of yourself
They respect you
For what you’ve done
Where you’ve come from
They see what you’ve experienced something real
Respect you for your courage
They live by their rules
They do not expect you to follow theirs
They are at peace to themselves
They are not proving anything to you
They are good listeners
Sincere in their interest in you
You feel important
They are available for honest
Makes you want to share yourself
In the small town of Campbell Missouri,
A young girl with lovely brown locks
Sits, having been told she might never walk again
As all aknowledge this belief in town,
A fear swept around,
And many children were kept down
But in the spirit of this child,
Desire to walk snuck over her fears
Perhaps she wished to surprise-
Perhaps she could not stand
The judgmental eyes-but all the same,
She picked herself up, smiled,
And sauntered around the room
Happiness pervaded the house
As the family friend, delighted,
Sang merrily the song,
“Have You Ever Seen a Dream Walking?”
Today, at California Mission Inn,
The same girl, now a woman
Walks her glorious walk
With confidence and grace
She is 91 years old and strong
Her eyes lighting up as she recalls
She hums the dreamy tune
As I jot down miracles
It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.
It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.
It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.
Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.
Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.
They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.
Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.
Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.
As we have all come to know and accept
That within certain parameters we find ourselves trapped
It’s either you’re stuck with wearing pants to rule and impress
Or socially considered inferior and wearing a dress
Well, I for one, fortunately belong to the latter
However, at the excruciating sensation of being perpetually overlooked, I shudder
For I know my worth exceeds that of just another fine lady
A woman who ignores harsh Reality and hides behind a smile, looking dandy
A conformist, being looked down on by what is called a man
So from this awkward position of helplessness, to remove myself without delay is my plan
This feeling of constantly being emotionally and socially dormant
Exhausts me – utterly drains my energy, to be used as a dusty doormat
Then carelessly, I am cast into a sea of vulnerability
Viewed by society as a mere object of instability
I, being of greater value, will remove myself from behind Male’s shadow
For I refuse, the social norm of this world, to follow
Even though seen as nothing, for myself I have respect
And to the world, my greatest strengths I shall reflect
Because I possess rare beauty that goes deeper than the skin
So onto my strengths, I shall trustingly lean
Where man exhibits his pompous ways I humbly outshine
For I am a woman of worth and that, the beauty in me shall always define
As a woman, I am made perfect in my weakness
For I thrive, where man tries his best to impress
She is strong but also weak
with that beautiful smile
so graceful and meek
Her touch is soft
and her words ever so sweet
Never a dull moment
always bright and sometimes lenient
with a positive outlook
even when it's clearly out of the books
She wipes the tears, and forces the smiles
touches the heart
and never you dare cross her child
Mother, Mama, Mom, Mommy
the many names that she goes by
All quite fitting for the warrior inside
with the love giving and super healing ways
she never makes a mistake
Even when you thought she was wrong
give it a day and you'll realize exactly what she was trying to say all along ( you soon realize she was right all along)
She is the all knowing, all loving, super talented and magical gift from the God above
I do not know?
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
Dear Mother of all
Sweetest mother of all Time
Queen of the world of women
You never aborted me
You raise me with your hard earn
You teach me the way of the righteous
You Bless me with the blessing of your mouth
Who will I praise if not you
Who will I believe if not you
Who will I trust if not you
You that carry me for nine months
You put me to bed on the 17th Day of the Sixth Month of the Glorious Year
You breast feed me till I am fit for the race
You put together your earning for my first birthday
You work under the sun and the rain just for me to be among equals
I understand it is not easy in this part of the world
Yet you gave me a reason to live
And even though I heard I use to be stubborn when I a little kid
Yet your love for me never ceased
Memories fade me not of my past failure
You hold me close to you and whisper to my ear saying
"Foluso The sun still shine, you can still make it"
No wonder I am reaching my goals now because your Sweet words still live in me
Words are not enough to express how I feel
But I have to tell you this Sweet mother
Ain’t a woman alive that can take my mama’s place
Up in that old attic are an antic Raggedy Ann Doll and a rocking chair well used by my grandmother.
Grand she was and as great as she to be; she instilled value and principality.
Up in that attic is an old Raggedy Ann Doll and an antic rocking chair my great grandmother rock from.
Short in statue but tall in her stance, my great grandmother guidance departed wisdom.
In that attic is all kind of memories of how my great grandmother and I loved each other as family.
Friends bonded and she as a life-long mentor, in that old attic resides expressive art.
In a far corner that was east to the sun stood a portrait of my great grandmother.
Knowledgeable was the face with eyes of hazel brown painted at the age of seventy-five (75).
The reminiscence of youth is a mural seen as I sat down in the rocking chair thinking… (“Mama, let’s read The Bible together.”)
In this old attic is love unknown because of the time I had with my great grandmother before she was beacon home.
The gracious woman grows through her own self-reflection
Everything she goes through in life is a lesson
Her beauty is of essence such as her presence
Full of integrity, compassion, and optimistic guessing
The courage that she brings
Screams a strong woman destined
With the passion of a soldier at war
She is honorable, respectful, worthy and more
Qualities that must be adored
I do not know?
(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)
Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,
they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.
They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,
and white was right in South Africa back then,
but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,
you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.
You, my mother, would not, could not break,
You stood firm, you stood tall.
You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.
You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,
the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,
my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,
by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.
You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.
You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,
you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,
you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.
Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,
all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.
I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,
the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.
I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,
you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,
of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.
I salute you!
(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
Her Father and brother appear smaller and smaller
through the tear blurred back window of the Austin A40
the separation of Mother and Father was for her good...
so they said.
The memory scars the heart
dulls the feminine senses.
These graves in the mind
bring her strength of soul.
The wisdom of her times
are transferred by affection and not words of advice.
Her flowered kitchen apron
expresses her love and mind.
Her faith in Christ: her strength yet purpose
are preached by wordless sermonettes.
This is a life that reaches
deep into the unreachable .
She is so typical
For most part difficult
I never really could grasp her in such way
She just wants me to some how stay
She comes to my man cave and makes me obey
Shy she was and now I am scared
In such way I almost cared
She thinks she can do everything for me I swear
She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening
So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy
Ah the cake before the icing!!!!!!
Aimee Semple McPherson (October 9, 1890 – September 27, 1944), also known as Sister Aimee, was a Canadian born in Salford, Ontario. She was a Los Angeles–based evangelist and media celebrity in the 1920s and 1930s.She founded the Foursquare Church. McPherson has been noted as a pioneer in the use of modern media, especially radio, and was the second woman to be granted a broadcast license. She used radio to draw on the growing appeal of popular entertainment in North America and incorporated other forms into her weekly sermons at Angelus Temple.
In her time she was the most publicized Christian evangelist, surpassing Billy Sunday and her other predecessors. She conducted public faith-healing demonstrations before large crowds, allegedly healing tens of thousands of people. News coverage sensationalized misfortunes with family and church members; particularly inflaming accusations she had fabricated her reported kidnapping, turning it into a national spectacle. McPherson's preaching style, extensive charity work and ecumenical contributions were a major influence in revitalization of American Evangelical Christianity in the 20th century.
Verse 1 Salford is the town in which she was born
Verse 2 As a teenager she would question visiting preachers about the existence of God
Verse 3 As a child she would often play “salvation army”
Verse 4 She was known to understand men speaking in tongues even they did not know
She married a man Semple, thus the play on words, simple, Semple, they traveled the world preaching, where he does of malaria in Hong Kong
Verse 5 Her husband Semple left her with child, whom she named “Star”
Verse 6 She remarried and tried to be a good wife, however her calling was to preach, during this time she was known to be obsessive about cleaning, however her children say that she was also a very loving mother, as a housewife as well as when she went back to preaching.
Verse 7 In Los Angles she formed the the “Temple of Angelus”
Verse 8 Is about her disappearance from Venice Beach in California, and re emerging in a town in Mexico
Verse 9 The ultimate Kiss was a famous song by a Mexican group in the 1960’s from the town where she re-appeared “ Aqua Prietas” Brown Water in English. Echos, refers to Echo Park a place in Los Angles where she formed her church.
Verse 10 sensuous sermonizer is a quote by Cole Porter describing Aimee. She was known for feeding the poor during the depression, something the government was failing to do, as well s healing the sick, and although not always successful, there are some famous accounts of her success. She was known for using theater, music and radio to bring the world of god to the people, thus bring ancient ways to modern times, and many an Evangelist would copy her style, both the sincere and the false.
Verse 11 She was a known insomniac who could not sleep, and died of an over dose of sedatives. “a splendid score” refers to her ability to put on Broadway type shows to deliver her message, people would line up for blocks to see her productions.
“I have forgiven mother”
She tarries with hope
that the good woman will pray her clemency for her own sins,
but that hour is expired;
Gee grew a strong wit
"Mother is no longer my burden"
Jesus came from hard conscience to corroborate her lies
The WORD written in black and white:
“Us twain is now one; for this reason I depart from her”
Three moons less than time in the safety of the womb is slight
In the past mother was necessity,
but she grew weary of the pace;
her birth city received her
The old Jewish woman was left
with stage three pressure ulcers
while the twain bender in Atlantic City
Their backsides were not masked by mother’s conformity
My mother's now defiant fingers work dutifully in another excrement,
goat stool in her callaloo garden
Before the recession, money was tossed in all directions;
I took hold of a few green ones.
She lived to outdo her alliance,
but high seat killed Miss. Thomas’ cat
Mother watched her outshone the Jones
The recession was never her downfall;
immorality got the better of her.
Jesus was overlooked
“put the WORD to work,
compensate the guardian of your youth”
She had to let a nation know how well off she was
Her enemies know her silver spoon was achieved
Her splurges buried ethics, and smiles were wide as graves
She let me know in scripts:
“A new being I am now; My shine is unlike years ago”
Vanity is not here in show, but her heart remains the same
Like the Jewish elder, mother is spurned
with bruising on her heart.
Strange or not
Odd and fun.
That’s not all
And still are
Strange and odd.
life is life.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move
Lies are life.
Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.
Lies are truth.
Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.
Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.
Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Bows in the pigtails, bows on the dress
swinging her arms, loving all the sass
bouncing and beautiful, rounding and rue
we flow into the coming days, of kissing Sue.
Sue is immortal, holding her babes,
loving her man, cooking her meals,
wanting for the beyond, entering her days
slowing and slowing until she sits more than swings.
And there you find her bowed back all alone,
waiting for a call, wanting everyone back home,
kisses so remote, we wonder how they disappear
until we find warmth with the one who calls us home.