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Mariam Muttallab Poem
Motherhood,
Made,
But not a creation,
A period of celebration,
A time with impression,
Not named to be,
But how it came to be,
Stress,tears,
Possession,expression,
Depression, confusion,
Are part of the little pains ,
A mother face.
But in the space,
Of time pace,
Joy is prominent ,
Laughter, imminent,
But the means ,
Of the pains,
And a mile,
With a smile,
Are the struggle,
The hustle,
Of their fears,
And cares.
The calling,
Of the feeling,
Of fulfilment,
And accomplishment,
Are the hope,
To cope,
the duty,
of her purity.
To show off,
Is to call off,
Her duty,
Of responsibility,
Which is not so,
But just so,
Are the rights,
Like the church the tithes,
Of her sacrifice,
The first fruit,
Of her first fruit,
With is a duty made,
Not a responsibility said or paid,
As of creation,
A position,
Motherhood is to be a treasure,
And not a time of pleasure.
Copyright © Mariam Muttallab | Year Posted 2017
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Mariam Muttallab Poem
Days before the last,
A day to remember,
A form of regret,
With the picture of sadness,
The lmage of pain,
The structure of a wish,
"Had i know"
With a creation of beauty,
At the moment,
Conformed with pleasure,
A sweet desire to behold,
The art of a design so beautiful,
That it cannot be resisted,
Like a trap,
In a road,
Ever so admirable and tempting to go,
But at the end,
A creation of pain, fear, loneliness,
So vain that it cannot be repaired,
A tragedy of a decision,
Which could have been made right,
At that point in time,
But now, lost,
In a scar so eternal,
Days of smiling,
Present at this point of rememberance,
With the heart of joy, happiness,tears
With no pain,
But peace at that moment of gain,
With the choice made,
Not falling in pleasure,
But to treasure,
The presence and the present,
Of the substance and the object,
Living,
Both breathing and tangible,
With a future to behold,
Of things good,
And not to fall,
In the cases of the other direction,
Days of the last,
With the hope to create smiles,
And imbibe joy,
To your dearest,
And your dears,
Both far and near,
And by Providence Divine,
Ever sure,
With the faith,
Ever strong,
That by Him,
Things good,
are never too far,
In these last days,
To smile.
Copyright © Mariam Muttallab | Year Posted 2017
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Mariam Muttallab Poem
Pain is imminent,
in one's vain heart,
but what is the possibility,
of its capability
commonly expressed,
but not depressed,
in great vain,
oh what great pain
pain is psychological,
and also physical
but i speak of the wounds of the mind and the heart,
not of the world and of this earth,
its feeling is like fire,
but not in consciousness to hire,
it crosses the veins like infinity,
but all to vanity
Christ was confounded,
not for one to be divided
in the spirit,
and in his truth,
pain is constant,
but should not be made important
man inflicts pain
but with God, pain is made vain.
Copyright © Mariam Muttallab | Year Posted 2017
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Mariam Muttallab Poem
The world,
In it's pride,
Created a face,
Not a place,
Like a battle ground,
An atmosphere, feared,
A creation of pain ,
In the hearts of men,
Reality is ever imminent,
Ever present,
But the world of heart ,
The disaster of man and thought,
Creation of depression,
Of it's expression,
Feared,
But not formed,
Reality is to be feared ,
If ever prepared,
But victory to be made,
In the heart's of men made.
Copyright © Mariam Muttallab | Year Posted 2017
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