Not less struggle
It can be felt only by mother
No creature on earth or any other
She has direct blood relation
Joy and happiness is felt with elation
Mother will weep
Take care and keep
Always to her chest
And deliver the best
Even if child has come for short stay
It was only means for her to find way
Motherhood to perfection with joy
She has only to express and enjoy
All babies are god's gift
We can feel bitter or have shift
We are helpless for untimely death
Only must have some belief and faith
Babies are like flower in garden
We call them dearly as children
Unhappiness disappear in moment
As they are gift and heavenly sent
Love and enjoy even if they stay
For less period and go away
Take as much care as possible
To attain parenthood is not less than any struggle
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Sacred relation
"What on earth can be called sacred relation"?
One friend parried a direct question
"Why the query all of sudden"?
I was not prepared to answer even
He had lost mother recently
He was keeping quiet but asked gently
I understood pain from his eyes
Even though the death of his mother was long gone by
Right from the conception she is aligned with child
Her nature undergoes change and remains mild
Everybody takes special care of her
First happy moment is shared by sister
The family is heavily loaded with movement
The child is expected at any moment
Everybody at home is right on toe
Only the word is awaited with the signal "go"
Mother has no more reason to worry
Whole world is on her steps to carry
She has complete time to spend after child
Even after child troubles her or goes wild
Such beautiful mother is heavenly gift on earth
Attachment is such that we don't forget even after her death
The sadness on part of friend was easily understood
I decided to console him and firmly stood by
I knew by folk tales that mother was no less than goddess
You can see entire world in her or on face
If world has to owe anything to any one
Then mother stands the only chance and none else
I too became sentimental along with him and cried
I put maximum words to console him and earnestly tried
He was quiet reasonable but carried away by memory
He felt so sad and had certain reasons to worry
I feel irritated at the news of mother's death
If that really happens to me then what aftermath!
I found no answer and winked at the blue sky
The birds were returning home for next day to fly
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never hesitate to leave
Never hesitate to leave!
I would never hesitate to leave this world
If my child is in danger or slips out of fold
“Mother would go to any extent” I was told
As certain things are totally free and not sold
I am totally aware that child needs total care
Some of the mother hide it and don’t dare
But what a joy on earth to feel while feeding
Pain mattered less at the time of delivery while bleeding
Each one of us may be dreaming about nice creature
As lots of expectations and dreams for making sure
What a child may bring in for our future life?
How do I feel about it as mother and wife!
My blood is directly flowing in his vanes
Lot many unsaid things are reflected as tales
But whole of world seems so tiny or small
When I hear baby’s cry or simple call
Let all babies get simple care from mother
All happiness with so much dedication and care
It is said child remembers mother when best fed
So later on holds hand of mother and leads
Whole world seems to me a tiny object
If I am to choose I will certainly reject
What a beautiful smile when I start feeding
All so more important satisfaction by her needing
I look at that curly hair
Everything looks so fair
How can I think of going somewhere?
When heaven and happiness is all here
I would love to sink when time comes
I won’t bother whether child later on welcomes or not
At present I see best part on feeding
It is the best present after my wedding
Many mothers may think it as absurd
But it is mother’s love with caring word
Sincere prayer along with it for her well being
My gesture will be after all less of doing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Yvonne
Who’s gonna take care of the children
Now that she is gone
Who’s gonna see that all the little babies
Will somehow get along
Who’s gonna take care of the children
When the time has come to say goodbye
When the little babies start to cry
Who’s gonna be right there to wipe their eyes
Now that she is gone
Yes I know that it’s a hurting tragedy
But death to everyone is guaranteed
Life isn’t promised to any one of us
So we must learn to deal with reality
Who’s gonna take care of the children
Who’s gonna be there when they call
Who’s gonna help them when they fall
Who’s gonna take care of the children
When the little babies start to cry
Who’s gonna be right there to wipe their eyes
Who, tell me who, please God tell me who
I’ve tried to do the best I can
They’ve all been fathered by different men
Who’s gonna take care of the children
Dear God you know I love them so
I gotta take my son and I must go
Yvonne, I’ll always love you
I just can’t stop thinking of you
Reach out, please tell me girl
Who’s gonna take care of the children
Now that you are gone
poem by Mustafa Marconi
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From The Moment
from the moment
you open your eyes
until the moment
you close your eyes
your children
are constantly
under your feet
always next to you
seeking you out
your presence touch
when they sleep
they want to be
always next to you
during a nap by day
long hours sleep by night
from the womb time
these are your babies
your little children
little minds personalities
like brood chicks
to mother hen
under your wing
they seek comfort
warmth security
love protection food
this love this bond
this motherhood
this is a gift divine
this blessing children
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lovely children
Life can be useless, dull and boring
The land will remain unfertile even if enough rain will be pouring
Some of the factors are playing dominant role in later age
We feel lonely and confined to golden cage
It is said that if home is without child
The human being may turn wild
He or she can not remain descent and kind
So much influence is exerted and we can easily find
A person becomes irritated
Though it is presumed and related
It feels some of the void
It is God gift and can not be avoided
Childless life is really curse
Their little presence helps for wounds to nurse
It is the movement that gives us joy
Life becomes purposeful to enjoy
Not all couples may be lucky to have children
Their life remains full of concern
The young age can pass of peacefully
But old age later on affects fully
It is like beautiful garden not having flowers
It is also quite pleasing to watch the showers
The flowers are product of that beautiful act
The God has gifted us them and it is fact
They are future of life and country as whole
The life may be remorseful and develop the holes
There may be no one to look after welfare and care
Life may be seemed as burden and place to go no where
Not necessary to have child from own blood
There are many under nourished and staving of food
They are most deserved flowers to be attended to
The God may be kind and merciful if we are true
The garden is desert if no flowers appear
What a pleasant and beautiful show it bears?
We would prefer to see then when go very near
The flowers should not plucked as they are very dear
The flowers of different colors are like children’
White. Whitish and black colors are seen often
The smile worn by child remain same and heavenly
We got to enjoy it and accept evenly
It is holy means to get easy with the on going passage
Children do help in spreading the love and message
It is only medium where by person can be persuaded
To lead normal and decent life and even dissuaded
No one can be that cruel to heavenly gift
The child can bridge the gulf or remove the rift
It is great momentum to witness the total shift
The life is elevated to decent level by affection and lift
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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One Of The Holy Object
Woman has been named as one of the holy object
She may have nothing on hand except one project
Fulfillment in life with or with heavy struggle
Life must flow on without any trouble
I see in picture a well defined woman
Not that she has nice company of man
Not well placed in life but as happiest female
That she might have got from male counterpart
She has every reason to look heaven in child
Rare occasion and all happiness to find
Woman can't be a full woman until have child
A beautiful world to live in and build
Whenever I find good couple on screen
I just slip in memory as if something divine thing is seen
Mother with child is rarest occasion to observe
A selfless duty and that too mother only can serve
What is there in world to see other than this?
We have nothing pay something like fix fees
You see it daily around but get no real glimpse
It gives lot of relief when you see feel no tense
The child may pick her mothers pulse
Even if said gently with no need to converse
I regard such phenomena as divine gift
Where you will never find in mother any shift
Roses have appeal and fragrance may be spread
It is felt by person but can never be read
Like wise motherly feeling is seen and felt
So is the fragrance in air is simply smelt
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Being A Mother Means
Being a mother means when you pray for your children God will hear
Being a mother means that you can give a hug when they are near
Being a mother means endless chores
But always with love and it should be something we adore
Being a mother means unconditional love
Even though they do aweful things
Being a mother means we remember the day they were born
Being a mother means they are a gift to cherish, one that we should Not ignore
poem by Zelda Gerkin
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The Empty Box
This I will not put into my normal rhyme and verse, for it is a story of
Faith and hope.
The empty box
I felt empty inside, as the greatest gift had been taken away.
Like an empty Christmas box with all the ribbons and bows
On the outside showing all its beauties, but no one
Knew that the box was empty inside.
What happened? Who took out that gift?
Was it supposed to be temporary
For it was something that I truly missed.
What is the purpose of a beautiful decorated box
If there is nothing inside, to show the depth
and meaning of its wrappings.
Had I taken out the gift? Or misplaced or given it away?
I did not know!
An empty box is like a universe without its stars
Or sun or moon. Void and dark.
I felt like a floating object in space with no
Beginning and no end.
I still had my mind active and working.
I decided to back track to the times before this
And what could have happened.
I had an untimely death of a family member
Then I was laid off from work.
I didn’t have enough money to make
My car or mortgage payments, and to top it off
I wound up with a severe cold.
That was when I turned angrily and blamed god
For all my misfortunes.
But by doing this - I became empty inside
With no emotions, I then realized that this
Is one of many misfortunes to come to test my faith.
I knelt down on my knees and prayed for forgiveness
For allowing myself to weaken.
I then recalled the poem - “ footprints in the sand”
And I felt my heart start to fill up again.
For I knew that in my weakest hours
God would carry me.
Now! That Christmas gift was replenished
And filled the emptiness with the most beautiful gift
This world could ever know.
FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE.
I knew things would work out for me
If I just gave god my problems to take care of.
So if you see an empty gift box!
It is not really empty, for it contains
GODS LOVE FOR ALL HIS CHILDREN.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Babies Making Babies
They thought they would enjoy the risk.
Of doing it...
Without the benefit,
Of being prepared for it.
Babies.
Making babies!
They put their parents into fits.
Who thought they taught their kids,
To realize...
The heartache that would come from it.
But they are babies,
Making babies.
Born in these times...
When it's easy to pay no mind,
To what others say...
To have it their way.
No one can find...
A sympathy,
When these young minds are gone.
To wander,
And roam alone.
They thought they would enjoy the risk.
Of doing it...
Without the benefit,
Of being prepared for it.
Babies.
Making babies!
They put their parents into fits.
Who thought they taught their kids,
To realize...
The heartache that would come from it.
But they are babies,
Making babies.
No one can find...
A sympathy,
When these young minds are gone.
To wander,
And roam alone.
Born in these times...
When it's easy to pay no mind,
To what others say...
To have it their way.
Today!
To have it their way.
Today!
And these babies.
Making babies!
Stay that way!
Leaving a sadness,
With the rest of us...
To pay!
And arresting a joy,
That fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mother
My heart sometimes cries
As it always feels so lonely
Although, I really wish that I could feel love of my mother
Hardly ever, my sweet mother was able to embrace me
Only after Eight months of my birth, she died
Died by jumping in a well and it took her life, at the very next moment
When people realized about her being dead, she was no more
Then as I grew up I always have missed someone who would care unconditionally about me
Unconditional love and care is received through a mother
However, I lost my mother at an very early age
Life, she took of herself
I guess she was really depressed and had no strength to fight her fears
It is sad, since she was my mother and I really always miss her love and care
Without a mother, I always feel so empty
Whenever I witness a mother taking care of her child
It only reminds me of her, again and again
I miss her and I wish she would have loved me if she was present
Mother, why did you leave me?
poem by Rohit Sapra
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A look at children
I missed or enjoyed no parenthood
I used to look at children in the neighborhood
Complete innocence reflecting on face
Ready to catch hand and willing to embrace
No one has dared to displease the children
They are made angry and upset very often
They will start crying all of sudden
The house with children is considered as heaven
Days tiredness go off when you see them playing
What type of joy and happiness it is relaying?
Children are symbol of frankness and innocence
Pain and worries go off in their presence
I wanted to remain childless
I was obsessed with this idea more or less
I couldn’t figure it out or trace
This must be considered as an isolated case
How garden may look without flowers and honey bees?
What image he desert may create when grown with trees?
There may prevail calm and enough joy
Life is to be lived with care and enjoy
Wherever there is poverty there is no child issue
Children are flooded their without any due
Where there is enough wealth and position
Children are not gifted and faced with lot many problems
Mother’s womb is rented child
They miss something in life and go wild
Their main concern is only to have new born
They are ready to do to address the concern
When we are helpless we may claim it as choice?
We may openly advocate and make more noise
Who will decide how many flowers garden should have?
We are assuming the role creators and brave
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My son, your mother left you and me alone......
My son, your mother left you and me alone
and she had flown to the heaven by leaving us in hell
Has she forgotten our love for her?
Her smiling picture on the wall brings me nonstop tears
There is no light or brightness in our house now
Her care for us brought beautiful life and loving nights
But now she left with us miserable life and torturing nights
I am sure she is watching us from the heaven helplessly
My son, your mother have tried to fight with death
and she want to keep us alive with her love and courage
but the heaven gates were opened for her and she felt helpless
I remember the day you were born son
Your mother held you in her arm as a precious gift from God
We had lots of plan for you and you were growing up greatly
Now you are only five years old and she left you and me
My son, as long as I live in this world
I will take care of you and give you fatherly and motherly love
and make her soul happy by up-bringing you as a great man.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Peace ambassador
"Why are you smiling always? "
"What are the secrets and ways? "
I have no trademark or special key
I think of the same and always pray almighty
I have been named by parents
As is the tradition with some consent
Those babies are to be named after
For the identification and laughter
Babies are after al heavenly gift
Suddenly you find attitudinal change or shift
In a man or in entire family
They forget pain even easily
If they are made brand ambassadors
Half of the battles may be won with honor
There won't be any bitterness or bloodshed
As world is likely to be happily led
"Little smile is worth mullions"
Did you ever observe man returning to pavilion?
Dejected, defeated and above all fully grounded
Nothing seems to him more sounded
I have seen the beautiful smile on face
That has kept me away from mad chase
I find answer in lovely and carefree smile
It' worth and if you measure it meanwhile
How beautiful garden comes up on spring?
As if to remove all kind of unhappiness and bring
The pleasure for mankind in different style
That was miles away or simply filed
I am "hasmukh"* that means smiling man
So people otherwise may find chance to comment
To tease me in most elegant way not to offend
And remind me of the pleasure island
*Hasmukh…. Smiling man
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Mother of Mee
My Mother takes care of me when I was little
Pamper me too much
Never want anyone to take me for granted
Watches my little ass when I was little
Carried me on her back
Take me out to places
Work hard for my up bringing
Till when I reached the 16th age
I never care I have a mother
I stay out their till midnight
Never think if I have a home
I have forgotten;
when I use to cry if mother don’t stay behind me
when I don’t allow people to carry me but mother alone
when I want to go wherever mother want to go
I have forgotten……
Mother query’s me of all these
Tells me she love me more than the way I love myself
How are u doing to ur Mother? Tell somebody……
poem by Sulaimon Afolabi Banjoko
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Oh! Flower, I Feel Sorry For You! ! !
I saw a nice little flower…
Enjoying herself in the nice warm fields…
The place felt fine, what a beautiful sight! !
Why didn’t it come yesterday? !
But the joy didn’t last long enough…what a pity!
‘Cause the flower was plucked away! ! !
It was no longer there
So was the beauty
How gloomy the place felt now for sight! !
Why do flowers bloom, if it has to be murdered this way? ?
Still, they bloom, though they die so prematurely…
But to beautify the Earth! !
Why do we hurt these little things, who give us joy? ?
They are the ones who blooms happiness to the world
Aren’t we too bound to be blossomed into flowers of happiness? ? ?
Oh Flower! ! I feel sorry for you! !
Can you be born again? ?
If I could, I would’ve fixed you into yourself again
But powerless I am…powerless except for eyes that are blind, but see evil thoughts
Why doesn’t man think before his acts? ?
Why doesn't he care about his fellow creatures? ? ?
2006
(Do you think before you act? Such as, when you pick a flower? Do you enjoy the beauty and DO YOU throw it away in the trash? Do you ever think of other people who may also enjoy the beauty?)
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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My Mother
My mother whose eyes were strained
by the happiness that filled her eyes
whose lips tasted with bitter tears
waited impatiently to hold me in her hands
My mother is the biggest gift of all gods
by the candle burn herself to light my life
whose love start and never end
who is the other name of kindness
My mother guided me and secured my life
by the stay of sleepless nights holding me
whose love that is worthless with her blessing
no one can take a place of mother.
poem by Swetha Reddy
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Lullaby
My mother's an expert in one thing:
sending people she loves into the other world.
The little ones, the babies--these
she rocks, whispering or singing quietly. I can't say
what she did for my father;
whatever it was, I'm sure it was right.
It's the same thing, really, preparing a person
for sleep, for death. The lullabies--they all say
don't be afraid, that's how they paraphrase
the heartbeat of the mother.
So the living grow slowly calm; it's only
the dying who can't, who refuse.
The dying are like tops, like gyroscopes--
they spin so rapidly they seem to be still.
Then they fly apart: in my mother's arms,
my sister was a cloud of atoms, of particles--that's the difference.
When a child's asleep, it's still whole.
My mother's seen death; she doesn't talk about the soul's integrity.
She's held an infant, an old man, as by comparison the dark grew
solid around them, finally changing to earth.
The soul's like all matter:
why would it stay intact, stay faithful to its one form,
when it could be free?
poem by Louise Gluck
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They stuck by the children.
His mother and his father's mother
Had not been in talking term for life.
Yet they had no enmity between them.
His mother let her love them, six children,
Which should have softened his grandmother.
Her care for them must have pleased his mother.
They never sat near nor scolded each other.
Yet they could not be in enmity
For both wanted the welfare of the children.
It was she who nursed her in her death bed.
Her own sisters, nephews and nieces fled
As the birds did when the tree turned fruitless.
She felt her guilt and confessed it to her
Who, as blessed, had had a good death later.
13.11.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Without A Few Good Laughs A Day
Success is only really what does matter if you go by with what most people do say
But life it would surely be very boring without a few good laughs a day
If you cannot laugh you're in trouble some even find it hard to smile
There are people with heaps of money who feel living life scarce worth-while
One has to feel sympathy for them their gift of life they don't enjoy
When they buy presents for their young child they buy the most expensive toy
Yet their money cannot make them happy they live their lives burdened by care
It Doesn't mean you will be happy when you become a millionaire
The praises of the rich and famous so many feel happy to sing
But if money could make people happy then money would buy everything
Unhappiness some people are born with and 'tis something money cannot cure
But I'd rather be wealthy and unhappy than being poor and miserable though the choice is a poor one for sure
If money could solve all of our problems then our biggest problem would be small
But money cannot buy you happiness and that's the greatest gift of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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War Babies
See the white clouds roll in
Spirits lying next to me
Catch the wildflower falling
Its the wound that never bleeds
Hear the sirens calling
Spinning out their show
Hold - the moment close to me
Take it down too slow
Be mine, be mine, war babies
Be mine, be mine, war babies
Can you still keep going?
Shattered pieces left inside
To face the final, knowing
That theres somethings you cant hide
Be mine, be mine, war babies
Be mine, be mine, war babies
So will the force let go?
Or will the phantoms stay?
Let the foreteller be your sight
- it feels like somethings happening today
Some shames like no other
And nothing feels the same
Nothing feels the same
War babies
Be mine, be mine, war babies
Nothing feels the same
War babies
War babies
Nothing feels the same
Be mine
Be mine
War babies
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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