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Prose Poetry Mother Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Mother

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

YOU ARE THE ONE


l. Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite ambrosia: she would lift her anklets in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..” Evenings touched her candle hands; hands that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights; her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan; “night and day you are the one…” And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants. ll. From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me; her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights with each veil of her almond eyes that enter into my irises: a serene sight too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word. Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles and music walked me through reality’s maze. And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study, coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet, she stayed like a moth with charm flushed in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing . lll. And only Mom could melt my temper when my raging soul paused to wonder at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head… and now, she hovers around me. I become her eyes, chanting, “night and day, you are the one” ; never balking at my surreal conquests. She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights without question; with much love dripping from her graceful movement, straying all through these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…” Carol Eastman's Story Poem Contest


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Teresa and I

Mother Teresa
She is the mother of every poor people, injured people, ordinary people...

Always we remember the great news
'Mother Teresa will get the Nobel Peace Prize.'
It was one of the best moment in our life...

She lived in our city Kolkata (Calcutta) .
She ate our Bengali foods.
She loved us so much...

One day, I was twelve years old
I met  her at Mother House along with my parents.
I looked at her heavenly eyes.
I touched her sacred feet and hands.
I heard her divine speeches.
I love her innocent smile.

I told her only the sentences, 
'You are the mother of the world, 
Mother of my parents.
So you are my grandmother.'

My father hesitated. My mother was silent.

Mother Teresa said to me with smile, 
'GOD BLESS YOU MY SON'

Today my eyes are full of tears
Mother, I miss you. 
I love you so much....


SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA



(Mother Teresa founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Roman Catholic religious congregation, which in 2012 consisted of over 4,500 sisters and is active in 133 countries. They run hospices and homes for people with HIV/AIDS, leprosy and tuberculosis; soup kitchens; dispensaries and mobile clinics; children's and family counselling programmes; orphanages; and schools. Members of the institute must adhere to the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, and the fourth vow, to give "wholehearted free service to the poorest of the poor".

Mother Teresa was the recipient of numerous honours including the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2003, she was beatified as "Blessed Teresa of Calcutta". A second miracle credited to her intercession is required before she can be recognised as a saint by the Catholic Church.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Urban Forest

  All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens.  A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind. 

   I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My God on Earth: My Mother

A heart that cries more than me 
in my pain. 
Whose congenial and benign teachings 
make me sane. 
A warm touch that dispels from me 
the gales of worry. 
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm 
protected by her under furry. 
A helping hand that always hold me 
whenever I'm about to lose. 
& my first teacher who makes me to 
distinguish between donts' and dos'. 
A voice and nothing more, an Angel 
who is entirely mine just after my birth. 
And she is none other but 'My Mother', 
The God on Earth. 
  
Although to define her in words is 
beyond my skill. 
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in 
my life, none can fill. 
She is the one who needs not a single 
word of me to understand. 
In my devastation, she is always there 
to provide effusively her hand. 
In the weariness of my life, with her, 
I may lose to be in link. 
But she ever remembers me whenever I 
breathe or my eyes blink. 
I can say that in search of heaven, 
I needn't to go anywhere. 
I would like to put my head in my 
mother's lap, as its only there.. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seaside Memories

Modest swimsuits, bathing boxes
 White-blue flesh ice cold
Scratchy towels, sandy sandwiches
 Pots of tea being sold
Foxford blankets, picnic baskets – 
A donkey ride on the strand
Flowery summer frocks, mischief brimming 
 A practical joke being planned 

Hesitant breast strokes – high pitched laughter
 Terror, delight ‘the cold’! -
Sunburn, windburn, scalded skin – 
‘You’ll remember this when you are old’
 Your mother is calling ‘the picnic is ready’
 ‘I’ll be there in a minute’, you say.
As you dive down again under – 
The sea bed to plunder -
‘There is treasure down there, Mam’ you say!’

Landladies’ rules, pubs with high stools
‘– A large bottle, sir, if you please -
And may be a chaser?’ ‘You are a disgrace, sir -
The night will blow away with the breeze’.
A day at the races, smiles on mens’ faces,
Jingles in pockets, dinner in ‘Rocketts’ -
 A beer and a fag, a joke and a drag – 
‘This is grand, Sir!’
   
Which horse do you fancy – I think Mary Nancy
Called after his missus – and just as delicious
‘A winner for sure, sir
 And what are you bettin’?  Think of what you’ll be gettin’
When you win on the jackpot –
 It is certain, sir!’
 
Sea-side rock plastic,
 Coloured windmills fantastic
Naughty postcards to be hidden
 – Their content forbidden, 
By your mother – 

The day’s nearly over – 
You are tired – you’ll recover
For a night at the amusements – you have one and twopence
Clean clothes, polished shoes and a song.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

WORLD WITHOUT WOMEN www

Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,


But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Warrior

The strength of a woman
Is not in her tongue
Or the length of her hair
Or the songs she has sung

Control is not found
In the clothing she wears
Or seduction she offers
Or the child that she bears

Her honor and glory
Comes not from what shows
Except her reliance
On God that she knows

For God gives her power
Beyond height and length
And makes her much stronger
To display her strength

It’s there deep within her
And flows through her being
Revealing a boldness
And strength we are seeing

For man cannot crush
All the things she can do
For she is a woman
And warrior too


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mom

I love you with all my heart we will never be worlds apart

If by chance you went away

Please just trust in what i say

Your in my heart each and everyday

My love for you will always stay and it will never sway

Even if time stood still my love for you never will

You are my hero I must admit and that I will not forget

You held my hand when I was in pain and it was not in vein

I could not ask for more

Your the reason I was born...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MOTHER TONGUE

We had a steel-coiled fence 
that kept us apart;  kept in purity,
spoke out in purity.

We played Barbies in a tree that
bordered each side, not knowing
it had a
zone.

Our Barbie world was created; 
dresses hung on branches
little mirrors for wee doll hands;
leaves assigned our closets.

I gibbered and you jabbered, and
the worst thing happened, I learnt
English, but what happened to your
French?

Language traveled through the holes
of our steel-coiled fence.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Nature And Me

I don't know why 
I am writing 
I don't know what 
will come out of it
 I don't know how 
this has happened
I feel like it's me
   my good luck

Mother nature begged
to dictate my now
during that long walk 
towards my new path
the sun burned 
my negativity 
asked me to start having 
    a healthy attitude 
towards life and death

Mother nature urged me
    to remember
life was good to you
you are not the owner here
you are just passing 
       through
  
She transmitted in her own way
telling me we all live with 
     uncertainties
    once in a while
there are reasons to life
just add a meaning to it
make it real enjoyable 
visible full of life
     and love

She projected her light under
 extraordinary circumstances
where are you when you're thinking
a lifetime has gone by in a glimpse
          remember
 a person can't live two lives 
tonight pick up an option
everything you will do has to be
       worth living for

It's your decision 
your responsibility
having faith without hope
    you will not live 
        in peace

This is real what's next in your life
    whatever it might be 
  you would always want 
      that next minute
 make it count don't see weakness 
           everywhere
             I will try
               Terry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unconditional Love

In the warmth of a massive cozy bed, I lie
Enjoying the freshness of a washed sheet
Lost in a make believe world
Lovely enough, I can’t wake

But while in the deep of my fantasies 
I am suddenly awakened by my little one’s silent echo!!!

Her turns and sucks, 
Her little hand-full tummy, rumbling
Yet again, wet diaper.

Oh no!!! Why now? 
Sleep never felt so lovely
But I just can’t ignore this growl
Am I not her supper-mom? 

Sleep-walking; I grab some warm milk and fresh diaper
For who came from me, same flesh and blood!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Children Laughter

Beautiful as they are, so is their laughter and smiles
Echoing noise of melody throughout the open sky,
Touching the hearts of parents everywhere, eradicating despair 
The children laughter often makes your day,
In spite of the hard work you put in today
It’s a delight to observe their faces as their laughter fills the air
Bringing rays of sunshine even on a cloudy day
Laughter of gladness, laughter of joy naturally flows from within
Never a dull moment and is harmonious to the ear
A Child’s laughter brings a mother’s joy any time anywhere.
Often changing the mood when there is sadness in the air
The beauty of the children laughter tell of 
The happiness of their heart
With sparkles in their eyes and a laughter that cannot be denied
Is a tribute to a mothers’ ear
Little children everywhere, filled this earth with pleasant cheer






Details | Prose Poetry | |

About INDIA

Americans say that India is the largest democratic country .

Asians say that India is the country of spiritualism .

Australians say that India is the country of huge crowd . 

Africans say that India is the country of great M . K . Gandhi .

Europeans say that India is the country of philosophy . 

Politicians say that India is our strategic partner .

Economists say that India is one of the best place for investment .

Communists say that India is the perfect soil for communism . 

Capitalists say that India is the market of products .

Historians say that India is the center of history .

Poets say that India is the country of Rabindranath Tagore and lovers

Everybody says many many sentences about India !


Although soul of India says to her people
"You are citizens of India but residents in the world .
And the World is your original mother land ." 

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Like Mother Hen

"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it"
Swedish Proverbs

All the while I went my way
Hot hostility halt my been gay
Anger defiled my melodious voice
Frightened love, fled far from been mine
Each dawn grew my melancholy phase
Still you cared, it made me amazed
Each of thy smiles slightly faded my repugnant scowl
It a little, shamed by burning anger
My heart pictured if thy world was true
I began to believe for I was always at rest with you
Many a time I would have gone back
But amidst my distressing scowl,
Mama smiled like my scowl was a charming smile
Felicitations of envy I'd give to men
But you were ever gentle and patient 
An insolent child is not thrown away, I'd
Hear her say
Just before hate could ruined me
You gave me reason to believe love is true  
Slow ridding years mended my heart
Your incessant warmth refined me
Your warm embrace taught me the 
Way of love; comforting, reassuring 
Ever patient and forgiving
You showed me the beauty of love
Now the world is a mirror
When I smile they smile bright too
You are the constant sky in my life
I love you mama


For the contest “The Right Time” written by Ingibo Benson
Fourth July 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beyond Horizon Reentry

Dropped out of whap five, hyperdrive is fried and so am I. Cruised through
a seven eleven, picked up some goodies for me mates. Bottle of Jack Daniels
Black for me British mate Paul Beadnall, lovely coconuts for me Aussie
mate Don Johnson nutter on planet forty two. Hit the atmoshpere of 
planet forty two, things gettin hot my fantasy ship is falling apart. I'm in trouble
need a rescue before my goose is cooked and I become cosmic dust.
Sent out an SOS ...---... on all frequencies to me mates. This is old Jack
cobber, I'm in trouble pick me up please on the double. All systems off line, I 
was about to panic, when they came into view. Don's trusty old Sunderland 
so thrilled to see. Beamed me on board, and I said thank ya me maties!
Handed Paul his bottle of black Jack, and Don his lovely coconuts. 
I said pour me a stiff one Paul to calm me nerves please. I said Don
if you don't mind, keep your Coconuts in your pants please. I was just relaxin
when a giant Mother ship from planet forty two popped into view
Don said that thar be a big mother nutter old cobber Jack, and me 
and Paul agreed. Don said bring er around Paul, We're gonna crack this
mother nutter. I looked at him with panic written on my face, he said no
worries mate. I've made some modifications you'll see they're great. He popped
up a puter screen, had a red and blue button. He pushed the the red one
and the puter said launching all torpedos brace yourselves please. Torpedos
lit up the inky dark space, Don chuckled and said take that you alien
buggers. His aim was true, huge flash mother ship cracked like a rotten nutter.
Paul laughed and said switch to auto pilot to his purter, let's drink a toast to
victory maties,we should be back to the Soup in a light year or two.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Mother, First Son - The Unspoken Words

 …What he found told that they each live lives which revolve around an ever deepening sense of a mother’s regret;
 … a weighted loneliness, held only by the truly broken of heart that surrender to their own pain. 

This was a pain obviously based on guilt; with enough for him to realize, - could’ve led her young mind to find comfort in his presented destiny… 

“…but at what price?” he asked out loud!

Edifyingly, the few times she spoke of the adoption, in her voice there always maintained a high level of doubting inflection. 
This was a conscience still ensconced at the summit of its grief; there would never be a fulfillment of her self-sacrificing penance.

That was the way her life ended…

   In stark, contrasting analogy of her coercion, – was that he too, has since found himself on same like hilltop. 
This place was real, in overlook and earth. 
One that evokes true ironies, where metaphors in life’s journey’s reflections do view from both sides …, 
but sometimes, - these stop you cold!
 
    His person just stood there mesmerized, while staring at this lonely snow fence, still dripping after a late summer storm's rain. 
Upon fleeting touch, he back away when felt was the wet of sorrow’s myriad of shed tears; … he would soon feel the stinging salinity of his own!
    It then occurred, and not by volition, an eerie loosing of these forlorn and mystic cries; 
a sounding that had instantly chilled the autumn air. 
These were the conjured bring from tailing empty winds that rush thru and by a fence’s waiting pickets...
 …In this field of view were the unknown mothers of different circumstance;
 each knowing what he had heard only all too well.
  They were his gone but stalwart Praetorian Guard, only long gleaned of any shown emotion… 
And now, through his welling eyes, a vision became this phalanx of weathered but now endeared souls,
 - yet still howling for the cold, cold company charged to their every winter’s keep. 
His tears now began to fall – and follow…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Mama

Dedicated to my mother who, in my youth, I did not fully understand.. 


I wish my callings be sweet to thee; 
Abate not Oh lady the tenderness I'd missed 
Prolong thy tenderness and never a dreary; 
Your genteel should I suck from thy breast. 
From being a toddler remember I; 
That not so often I heard thy lullaby. 
And thence I asked Oh whence I came? 
I sought for answer; I didn't think ‘twas fine. 
Then years rolled by I attended school; 
Why art thou the source of my ridicule? 
The boys would laugh by what thou hinted; 
That I didn't fit a sport; I couldn't hit a target. 
It confused me much – yeah it hurt me badly 
The way thou saw me was never comely. 
Mama! Oh mama! I beseech thee 
Tell me the truth in anyway thou tell me 
Thou needest not to be subtle in telling the truth 
Let it be that I can have peace in my youth. 
The future is waiting and thither I goest 
Wish me luck; I don't want to be the lowest. 
Oh Mama, Willful as thou art, bestow in me some courage 
That even in my lowliness, I can live my life the fullest… 


                                    Date & Time of Writing: 
                                    October 4, 1988 
                                    12:03am - 10:10am 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Our Mother's Song

We sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
she sings back as an angel from beyond and drops a tear 
as we sleep so we won't wake and weep

On earth she gave us birth and strength to shine in this universe
and to remember family comes first for even in death
we have rebirth and a life of worth

So, we sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
we will remain strong and will carry on for this beautiful angel
from beyond who has bygone for our mom. 

T Reams 2/10/2015   to my sweet sister Jenny in memory of our mother Barbara


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sacred Mother Earth- Colors Of Nature

Oh Great Woman of all Nature
  Mother of our Divinely blessed, sacred Earth
Your beauty has kissed my lips
  with the splendor of your clear, sapphire skies
 

The golden, moon bathed Sands
  that are gently caressed
 by your crystal blue clear flowing rivers
Your gentle rain that ascends from the Heavens above
  to delicately soothe and blend
with tears that flow from the broken hearted
 

Your moist, emerald green hills 
 filled with enchanting, lovely flowers 
of every elegant shade and hue
I have beheld the splendid beauty…
 of your green weeping willow's gracious bows and limbs
of iridescent greens and golds
that whisper gently in your swaying, languid winds
 

I have witnessed golden eagles fly so gracious and free
  in your pictorial, periwinkle blue skies
I've feasted my eyes on the sublime splendor
  of your enchanting, golden harvest moon
as its elegant beauty paints a rose, gold, splendid image 
  so deep within my mind
 

All your violet-blue endless horizons
  Your smoky, gray mountains so grand
in the rose blue cool light of dawn
  Your chattering bird songs in skies of azure blue
The fragrant scent of amber gold pinecones
   in the sparkle of the crystal clear early morning dew
 

I pay Ode’ to you Great Mother Nature
  for every golden ray of sun that warmed my skin
that hangs brilliant and dazzling...
   in your glorious skies of cerulean blue


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Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Black In Time

Let`s go black in time
Come with me black to history
Black to the mother land
Where we rightfully belong
Black in time before the Europeans
Tried to whitewash our
Skins and minds
Black to the kingdom and ancestry
Black, way black before slavery

Black am I 
Not just the color of my skin
The pupil of my eyes or the hair on my head
But black at heart, black in my thinking
And black in my thoughts

Black in time
Black my story, every sentence, every line
Black every rhythm and every rhyme
Black the days on their slave ships
Heading across the ocean lines
Black the shackles and the chains
Black the whips that cut our veins
Black the blood that stained the lands
Black the heart of every whiteman
Black the husbands and the wives
Black the circumstances which changed 
our lives
Black the mother and the father
Black the separation from each other

Black, black, black, black
Black the struggles and the fights
Black the system which took away 
our rights
Black the midnights we tried to make 
our run
Black the rope on the tree that hung the ones
Who wished to be free

Black, black, black, black
Let`s go black and turn the world around
Let`s take black our civilization
Every continent and every nation
Let`s take black the white man`s dominion
Let`s take black our rightful rulership
No more subjection under
The whiteman`s dictatorship
Let`s black out the pages 
of the white man`s days
And attribute the praises 
to the black liberal race

Black my eyes and the things they see
Black the visions of those who preceded me
Black Marcus, Selassie and Mandela
Black Obama and the Christ
Black the life I live because of their sacrifice


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Real Mother

She felt it on her shoulders
When her husband lost his sight
Many school fees to pay 
Much food to feed children
She was just an apprentice nurse 
Working at the government hospital
In Harper city, Maryland county

She woke up very early
Daily walk to her place of work
She retire at night in her small shop
She makes sure her children studied 
But her tears were invisible

She couldn’t afford receiving her salary
The storms of school fees and book swallow it
She work all through her years
Preparing her children for brighter future

The dark hand of civil war surface
When parents ran without their children
Children without their parents
Husbands without their wives 
And wives without their husband
But she kept her family

In the midst of terror and tension
When human bodies, human skull,
Human bones lied along the roadside
She escapes with her husband into exile
She is a real mother
Who kept her vow deep within her heart
As a treasure that couldn’t be stolen





Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poem For My Mother

The fire in Daytona                                                                                                                        Has changed everything now                                                                                                                           And pauline is finally gone                                                                                                             Farther away this time than than the lighthouse at Ponce Inlet                                                           Or the locked ward at County General                                                                                                And the only perspective that I can find                                                                                       Is that even in her own naivety she was determined                                                                                   To have things her own way in the end                                                                                                 And yet death is a way of gambling too                                                                                                      That doesn't always guarantee an integration of one's soul                                                     If there is a lesson in our mother's passing over like she did                                                                 It might be that love itself is inadequate at times                                                                          No matter how the loved ones  try                                                                                                   Or that self-fulfilling prophecies can be as dangerous                                                                 As they can be beautiful and grand                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            
                                     


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I AM A WOMAN

I walk
I talk
I possess an image
That image
I am the woman

The woman who is 
In absolute possession
Of the courage
As brave as a warriors staff
The woman who knows her rights 
And fights for it
I am the woman
With the “man”

I feel 
I heal
I possess a heart
That heart
I am the woman

The woman with 
An inner child
With an overflowing joy
With no worries bigger
The woman whose gleeing spirit
Brings hope to all
I am the woman
With the “womb”

I make
I create
I possess an art
That art
I am the woman

The woman herself
Stringing together
All pieces of earth
And soothing the broken
The woman whose arms
Wraps those she loves
I am the woman
That woman…

©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012


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VIRTUOUS WOMAN

Virtuous Woman
5 Feet 5
Queen
Matriarch
Witnessing the untold wisdom in your eyes
Protector by nature
Shielding your offspring with 
Care
Gentleness
Flawless skin glowing as the Indian sun
Survivor
Warrior 
Bearing the scars
Burdens of
Past
Present 
Generations
Emerging as a phoenix
Transforming into your
Victorious state
A new day given by 
GOD
Walk no Run
In the anointing
My virtuous
MOTHER


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Lost

Love Lost…

Morning star shines down on me
I seek the shade 
The shade of the great oak tree
It casts a giant shadow across both of your hearts
Across mine

The cool breeze blows through the field
Between the rows of etched marble stone
And beyond the blades of overgrown grass
Your resting places I see

In the peace and quiet of the morning
I sit, I stand, I talk to both of you
I breathe; deep
Exhale in a sigh
Unable to fight the tears
Not really wanting to try

I find myself needing to spend time with both of you
But have neither Mother, nor Father
I am no longer a child, but a man?
I am all that you both have made me
Your love and guidance cannot fail me now…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

In Ten Years

there are too many indiscriminate yesterdays
in my memory
too many I'll do it tomorrows in my
vocabulary
i could blame my daddy for his absence
or I could fault my mama for her negligence
i could put it on uncle incestuous
who caused me to become promiscuous
but I'm a grown woman with plans
to be confident and advance
to inspire people not to become
hopeless mothers
or irresponsible fathers
I'll start today
not in ten years or tomorrow
but today


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The generous mother Earth

THE GENEROUS MOTHER EARTH
How generous you are the mother Earth
It is from thee that man was made
You have made man un-thirsty
And your benevolent in giving out of nothing is inexplicable
You feed the worthy and the unworthy
We are till forever indebted to you
To return what thy have taken from thee!
The heaven can never be ungrateful
For the inexplicable water supply
That has made the heaven glamour
That has made the birds of the air gorgeous and flamboyant
They can never fail to pay thee, the last tribute
As to return the expedients taken from thee!
You have continued to bring out valuables
That prompted the regalia of men
That necessitated the pride of plants and flamboyant flowers
That yielded the live of insects and man
 They wouldn’t hesitate to vomit explicitly what they have savored
To the generous mother Earth!
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Angels

Does the angels exist only in the stories?
Their magical wand and that golden glow
is all that just  a piece of imagination?

i searched , searched and searched
till i had found them
they werent as i imagined
yet they were gentle .

i saw the angels,
in helping heart of person,
in parents’s eyes
after fulfilling kid’s wish,
in innocent kid’s smile
on sharing things,
in mom’s tears,
in dad’s care,
in friend’s support,
in sibling’s love,
in person’s  surprise gifts,
in carefree laugh,
in playful childhood,

Angels do exist but
in different human forms,
spreading invisible magical charm
making our life magical

come on , cross your fingers
make a wish
who knows may be there
will an angel waiting to fulfill that ;)