The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: 'At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you!'
And the daughter spoke, and she said: 'O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead!'
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, 'Is that you, darling?' And the daughter answered gently,
'Yes, dear.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Related quotes
The Old Woman And Her Loyal Maid
the old woman is very rich
she has two children, a lovely daughter and a very naughty son
the lovely daughter dislikes her
and the naughty son wants to kill her
she slaps her often and the more the daughter wants to go away from her
the son is disturbed and furious because he did not know his father enough
the daughter married a gentle man
and the son went away with no know address no known destination
he never came back
while she lives her own life away from the rich woman
the old woman has a loyal maid
who has no memory of humiliating words that the old woman more often
inflicts in her person
the old woman is dying
but the son and daughter have no respect anymore for such word
as mother.
meanwhile the loyal maid keeps swallowing the pesters of the old woman
expecting a part of the wealth
as her pay and legacy
well, this story cannot have an ending yet
the old woman is still alive and the son and daughter are still making up
their minds
what to do next.
Life is a comma. The ending always waits
for something that will be a happy one.
But who knows, except this one, something tragic may happen
at the end. Who knows?
I will for sure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Women
This world is, because of the woman
this universe is, because of the woman
nothing exists without the woman
our existence is, because of the woman.
Why being a woman then
should be humiliation?
Why a woman then
should face indignation?
always the woman becomes the prey...?
always the woman has no say.....?
The woman is a mother, also a mother–in-law
the woman is a sister, also a sister-in-law
the woman has many roles to play
a daughter-in-law perfects that night & day.
Why then a woman does
torture another woman?
Why does a ma-in-law
torches a daughter in-law?
Why does a woman destroy another’s world?
Why does jealousy overcomes a sister-in-law?
In the woman, power is manifest,
yet she is unaware and that is a jest.
she becomes Durga when in rage
telling everyone, she is no sage
the woman is where, awakening is there
her absence creates crematoriums everywhere.
Why do then a woman abhor the birth of a female?
Wants a child, whose gender is male?
the male is indebted to her for the courage and life
yet no rewards for the woman, her entire life.
This is the story of the woman, full of anguish
Plight of a woman is because of another’s wish
Exploitation of the woman could not have taken place
Had a woman given the other a little more space.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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A Mother Does Not
A mother does not raise her child for to fight and die in war
Or to kill another Human Being in a Country from home far
That her son or her daughter should at someone else shoot to kill
A person they have never known or who have never bore them ill.
Picasso's 'Screaming Woman' is for all woman kind
The mother weeps for her dead child with grief 'out of her mind'
Mothers do not raise their children for to be remembered on War Memorial Day
For to fight in war for war mongering non combatants and throw their lives away
A mother raises her son or daughter so her seed of life will live on
That her genes will still be around when she herself has gone
From the World of the living to be numbered amongst the dead
I wish for my children to outlive me that's what the mother said.
A mother does not raise her child for to meet with an early death
Not for her War Memorial Day or the words 'Lest we forget'
She wants her son and daughter for to grow old and gray
And she does not wish to hear of War and War Memorial Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mothers And Their Daughters
they struck him down hard early in life
he slaps me around plenty
i cannot leave
my daughter never cries
to feed my daughter
i will take on the whole lot of you
the young men howl
i am a mother in time of famine
my daughter dying at my breast
my husband wants a son
my first child a love child a daughter
a wedding to make it right
a family joke to keep me honest
they have a one child policy here
he took my first child my daughter
sold her to the americans
as a child they mutilated me
for fear i might become the woman i am
they will never get to my daughter
I am told to hate my burqa
it keeps my secret from him
my daughter will wear the burqa
poem by Paul Bamberger
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Examples
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke mother nature to the tree
As it stood so proudly and ever so tall
As though defying to all that it would fall
Will you place your roots deep into the Earth
Then other trees like you will then give birth
Spoke once again mother nature to the tree
Tell me please what type of example will you be.
What kind of an example will you become
Spoke the mother wolf unto her young
Will you be majestic and run fast and free
Running in packs to provide for your family.
Or will you become a mother like I became
But swearing to all you will never be tamed
While fearing no one in the the moonlight or the sun
So please tell me what type of examples will you become.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke the mother to her daughter upon her knee
Will you be a loyal and devout and virtuous woman
Never doing the things that a lady shouldn't
Being honest and caring through the days of your life
Then being truthful and trusting when you become a wife
And will you become a mother just like me
Please tell me what type of an example will you be.
What kind of an example will you be
Spoke GOD to mother nature as she planted the tree
And what kind of an example have you become
Spoke GOD to the she wolf as she spoke to her young
What hind of an example will you then be
Spoke GOD to the mother with her daughter on her knee
The young ones will do and become from what they see
As the examples will be you spoke GOD to all three.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Nursing You
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
'second sex'
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you 'second'
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
rowling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the First Night
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
'second sex'
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you 'second'
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
growling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Daughter Of Darkness
Woman, I can remember a woman
Warm were her kisses and tender was she lying there in my arms
Why
Why, did you deceive me so?
What devil inside made you go when I needed you most of all-ll
Oh daughter of darkness
Stay out of my life, my life
You took my heart and broke it apart, you daughter of darkness
Daughter of darkness
Please, leave me alone forever
Daughter of darkness, gone is the love that we shared together
Heaven, we had our own kind of heaven
Sharing together the magic of love in a world of our own
Then oh so suddenly you were gone
The love I depended upon disappeared when you werent away-ay
Oh daughter of darkness
Stay out of my life, my life
You took my heart and broke it apart, you daughter of darkness
Daughter of darkness
Please, leave me alone forever
Oh devil daughter of darkness, gone is the love that we shared together
Oh daughter of darkness
Stay out of my life, my life
You took my heart and broke it apart, you daughter of darkness
Oh daughter of darkness
Stay out of my life, my life
You took my heart and broke it apart, you daughter of darkness
Daughter of darkness
Please, leave me alone forever
Oh devil daughter of darkness, gone is the love that we shared together
[fade]
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For a Daughter Who Leaves
A woman weaves
her daughter's wedding
slippers that will carry
her steps into a new life.
The mother weeps alone
into her jeweled sewing box
slips red thread
around its spool,
the same she used to stitch
her daughter's first silk jacket
embroidered with turtles
that would bring luck, long life.
She remembers all the steps
taken by her daughter's
unbound quick feet:
dancing on the stones
of the yard among yellow
butterflies and white breasted sparrows.
And she grew, legs strong
body long, mind
independent.
Now she captures all eyes
with her hair combed smooth
and her hips gently
swaying like bamboo.
The woman
spins her thread
from the spool of her heart,
knotted to her daughter's
departing
wedding slippers.
poem by Janice Mirikitani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nursing You
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
"second sex"
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you "second"
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
rowling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother And Daughter...
Mother and daughter,
Are very close,
They are best friends,
And can be enemy's sometimes,
They laugh and cry,
Call each other names,
And mess around,
And there still as close as ever,
Nothing will ruin their mother and daughter relationship,
Not even boys,
They may keep secrets,
From one another, but there still there,
to care and help,
their still mother and daughter.
Wrote about a mother and daughter love
poem by StaceyLeigh Olner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Not A Woman...
I am not a woman that loves with a heart
I am not a woman that's silly and smart
I am not a woman with open wounds
I am not a woman that's more attuned
I am not a woman that you hold dear
I am not a woman that has no fear
I am not a woman that's loved or lost
I am not a woman that doesn't know the cost
I am not a woman that's hurting inside
I am not a woman that has no foolish pride
I am not a woman that can't look you in the eye
I am not a woman alone that cries
I am not a woman that's imprisoned with chains
I am not a woman that holds her will in vain
I am not a woman, or mother, or friend
or wife, or daughter, or one to depend
I am not a woman of all and more
Because I gave it away to the one I adore
what's left is all you see
Just a woman that truly believes
Mother and Daughter Love
Mother and daughter love can be so fun...
A mother should love her daughter at all time
A mother have connection with her daughter
A daughter should love there mother with in and with out
A daughter should talk to her about anything with each other
A mother and daughter should love each other
That what some people call mother and daughter love.....
poem by Valentine White
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My Daughter Brittany
On the special day of October 4,1995
God gave me the perfect daughter,
A mother can dream about
You fill my life with laughter
Our love will never doubt
The moment my eyes first looked at you
I knew my dreams had all came true
As a little girl you were very shy
You're important in my life i'll never deny
The bond we created from my womb,
To the day you were born
Its a mother and daughter bind, that can
never be torn
I could'nt be any prouder, than I am today of you
You are my daughter, and my friend
And a wonderful person too
I know that i am not perfect, Its the best i can do
But every day I thank the lord for giving me
A daughter as special as you.
Please don't hide anything from me
For i am here for you and always will be
Life is not always fair,
So please come to me no matter what
We will work it out together, And know i care
I LOVE YOU HONEY WITH ALL MY HEART
OUR LOVE PROVES WE WILL NEVER BE APART....
TO BRIITTANY FROM YOUR MOM
poem by Wendy Kay Tadday
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The firm cheeks
A fair woman came in
With her daughter in her teen.
The daughter went into eclipse.
The firm cheeks of the ripe spoke.
22.01.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Good Daughter
having made her way out of the nest
having made something of herself
she rubs elbows with some of the city's finest lawyers
balancing her own practice with a sad attempt at having a social life-
she calls home to her mother,
whom she visits every weekend upstate,
doing her grocery shopping &
doing whatever she can for her,
the whole while listening to a constant critique of
where she should be at the age that she is-
her mother insists that her daughter will not stay young forever,
saying she has no fashion sense,
always points out that she should try to go to the gym more often &
never ceasing to make time to moan about wishing that she had grandchildren,
asking why a woman who is as successful as her daughter
cannot find a man-
the daughter doesn't respond with anger & instead
stays up at night when mother has fallen asleep
working on cases &
watching her remaining youth drift away,
hundreds of miles away from the city she lives in
the other five days of the week-
her mother's own cervical cancer which was recently detected
now is spreading &
she is meeting with doctors in the coming weeks to begin radiation-
her daughter hopes that surgery is possible &
wonders if the operation will force her mother into a more compromised position
where she will no longer be able to live on her own-
the daughter's life could very well be uprooted altogether &
she could find herself stuck back in her home town
waiting on her mother hand & foot,
while still pretending to be able to practice law-
the clock is ticking &
her friends in the city
watch their lives prosper,
moving on in ways that this daughter
can really only dream of,
being weighed down by something
she never counted on happening
when she put it all in motion-
ever the more exhausted,
she started drinking a lot of coffee,
then moved onto caffeine pills &
after energy drinks & the lot didn't work,
she moved onto a little coke to try & get herself
through-
she tells herself that she won't need it forever,
that it's just for now
so that she can balance all that is happening in her life.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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When A Mother Cries
When a mother cries,
Her tears stab at her daughter’s heart
As they plummet to the floor
When a mother cries
Her daughter cries too
She cries because she does not know what is wrong
She cries because she can’t get rid of her mother’s pain
She cries most of all because she loves her mother
When a daughter cries because her mother cries
Her mother cries more
She cries because her pain has hurt her daughter
She cries because she does not want to see her daughter cry because of her
She cries most of all,
Because she loves her daughter
Once the tears have ceased however,
What remains is love
The love forever shared between a mother and a daughter
poem by Portia Lane
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The Grenadain Woman
Yes me woman, from my womb life was borne
Yes me woman, the young ones prune by my hands
Yes me woman, with the coves that sways with the redeem of the heart beat, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup
Yes me woman, with beauty unimaginable, soft to the touch
yes me woman, with the voice of a heavenly being, soft, gentle, comforting, encouraging
Yes me woman, determine to succeed with the strength from above
Yes me woman, the days have gone, long gone for her to depend on the strength of another man
Yes me woman, her time has come for the world to see her for who she really is
Yes me woman, creative, innovative, confident, intelligent, loving, kindhearted
Yes me woman, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, lover
Yes me woman, The Grenadian woman.
poem by Curliann Mark
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To Unborn Son And Daughter
Love not the son less
But he loved the son
Not to be born and burned
In the turbulence
And pathos and chaos
Of the barren earthly bond.
He loved to sleep
With his unborn son
He loved to talk and play
With the yet not born son
As none could enslave
As none could persecute
As none could chain
His yet to be born son!
She loved her daughter
To be in the womb
And not to advance
From embryo to fetus
As she never longed
Her daughter to fly
Like a butterfly
Loitering the flowery garden!
She talked to her daughter
Whose tickling heart
In the womb stuttered
And yearned for a lullaby
To sleep in dreams!
Her humming of lullaby
Was like a wailing
That made her daughter
Lose the sleep and the balm!
She faced the vultures
With shocking flutter of wings
That hook her daughter
In its sharp nails!
She talked to her
Not born daughter
Not to take birth
As birth is burden
And an unending ordeal!
He and she decided
To perish the love flowering
And to part to embrace
The pain of love broken
For not to father a son!
For not to mother a daughter!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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