She Is Mother
She doesn't wear
a pointy hat,
doesn't ride a broom,
or, lives with a black cat.
She shares with children,
the gentle drops of rain,
its name is pure dream.
She takes away our all pain.
She prepares for her dear ones,
many fabulous dishes,
if once we want to have,
our request she never misses.
She is not a sorceress,
she is not a witch rather.
She can do anything for all of us,
Oh! she is our Mother!
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Just Because
Just because you did
Doesn't mean that you should
Just because you can
Doesn't mean that you could
Just because you are able
Doesn't mean you would
Just because you sat
Doesn't mean you should‘ve stood.
Just because you spoke
Doesn't mean that you thought
Just because you looked
Doesn't mean that you sought
Just because you argued
Doesn't mean that you fought
Just because you dreamed
Doesn't mean that you wished not.
Just because you cried
Doesn't mean that you wept
Just because you had
Doesn't mean that you kept
Just because you cleaned
Doesn't mean that you swept
Just because you said yes
Doesn't mean that you accept.
Just because you gathered
Doesn't mean that you own
Just because you gave up
Doesn't mean that you were alone
Just because you saw
Doesn't mean that you were shown
Just because you expiate
Doesn't mean you should atone.
Just because your old
Doesn't mean that you have flaws
Just because you won
Doesn't mean you have to applause
Just because you waited
Doesn't mean that you paused
Just because you were you
Doesn't mean anything, because.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are We A Dying Breed?
Bread winners, protectors
a little description what a man is
providers for all, soldiers for the defenceless
Fall short we have
cowards we've become
the destruction cannot be undone
hostage takers, boogie man we are
Rapist, child molesters
woman beaters and murderers
all that describes the majority that is a few
What real is, is not existent
we are becoming extinct
heroes and the brave
we are but a few yet plenty
cowards over-populate
and we decline
in numbers and in faith
A man doesn't rape
A man doesn't pillage and plunder
A man doesn't poison the minds of little kids
A man doesn't cause pain or murder
A man doesn't lie or contradict
A man doesn't raise a hand on a woman
A man doesn't abandon his children and responsibilities
A man protects all that is dear to him
A man, a real man takes care of business
Men, humanity, are we a dying breed?
poem by Kelvin Owusu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why are butterflies free?
A butterfly goes thru one of lives greatest metamorphoses.
It starts its life as a caterpillar going thru life eating and waiting for that moment to begging its life’s journey. It cocoons itself until it is ready for its last steps in life.
Spring forth from its cocoon, it frees itself and flies off into the light. It is its begging and ending all at the same time.
It doesn’t care about what the future brings
It doesn’t care about lesser things
It doesn’t care about the rain
It doesn’t care about the pain
It doesn’t care about where it belongs
It doesn’t care about a silly love songs
It doesn’t care about right or wrong
It doesn’t care about the road being to long
It doesn’t care if the sun sets in the east
It doesn’t care about war and piece
It doesn’t care about the world in helter skelter
It doesn’t care about a warm shelter
It has no idea about mass destruction
For that takes too much contemplation
For politics it has no reaction
It needs no constitution
Just being is its satisfaction
It looks to no one for absolution
No homeland for repatriation
It has no skin for condemnation
It has no time for recreation
It has no room for damnation
A butterfly lives its life like there is no tomorrow
For a butterfly there is no tomorrow
A butterfly just wonders the earth sapping up life as it goes by
It owes nothing to anyone
Fly butterfly, fly and be free
Be free to be free
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Brooms Witches And Mothers
Witches have broom's
When i a child
Mother's had broom's
Mother's ran with broom's
Mother's ran fast with broom's
I was a very swift boy
I had to run from many broom's
Sometimes mother would strike with broom
Therefore throwing herself of balance
As i ran i would laugh
Like a kookaburra
She would become a angry mother with broom
She would call for me to stop running
So she could give me her broom
I would keep running
For i did not like broom's
Witches like broom's
Mother's like broom's
poem by Allan James Saywell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unborn Child
She said to me:
Mother, do you love me?
Yes, my dear, I did say back
She said to me:
Mother, do you want me?
Yes, my love, I cried back
She said to me:
Mother, when and how?
I said to her:
Never ever dear,
only in my dreams,
You are here…
You are my wish
That may never come true
Thanks to the Man,
Who never wished to…
My daintiest darling,
looked at me,
and did ask me:
Who is it, Mother,
Who doesn’t want me?
Tell Him: being born of love,
I’ll only love, and love ever more,
Him and Thee, and this world for sure…
Tears streaming…
Heart wrenching out…
I said to her,
It is, your daddy dear,
Who doesn’t want you…
He loathes you, and loathes me too,
to make my dream ever come true.
So, my loveliest princess,
Let me cradle you…
hold you to my bosom,
and lovingly kiss you,
in my dreams…
The Reality is too harsh,
For you to be born…
So forgive me, my dear
You are mummy’s dream
That can never come true…
Thanks, to your daddy dear,
Who can never give you…
To Me.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Teeth
Like a cloud his fingers explode
On the typewriter ribbon, the shadow grows
His hearts in a bowl behind the bank
And every evening when he get home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries
While his shoes get cold
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
One summer, a suicide
Another autumn, a travelers guide
He hits snooze twice before he dies
And every evening when he get home
To make his supper and eat it alone
His black shirt cries
While his shoes get cold
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having
He feels lucky to have you here
In his kitchen, in your chair
Sometimes he forgets that you're even there
It's just a dream he keeps having
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
It's just a dream he keeps having
It's just a dream
And it doesn't seem to mean anything
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dew Drops Mist
Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Everything that lives,
She assists its growth.
And you and I can do what we like.
In between the fussing, cussing and fights.
You and I can decide to hide or be seen...
But mother Nature is there!
And always on the ecene.
It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter if we scatter without chatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
And,
We can be a little rich or poor.
Or never answer a knock on our doors.
It doesn't matter if we chit chat or scatter.
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Every morning when you're yawning and it's dawn,
On this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter in your life what's going on,
'Cause...
In this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever it is that you've been told...
As the dew drops mist,
Each morning that unfolds...
Mother Nature to this is committed.
To all things that exist.
And even you and I...
We are caught up the mix.
So,
Every morning when you're yawning and it's dawn,
On this existence the dew drops mist.
It doesn't matter in your life what's going on,
'Cause...
In this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows it and knows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
Whatever the season that comes to leave,
We may have our differences and do not agree.
But,
Nonstop Mother Nature shows it and knows...
Upon this existence the dew drops mist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If a dog doesn't put you first where are you both? In what relation? A dog needs God. It lives by your glances, your wishes. It even shares your humor. This happens about the fifth year. If it doesn't happen you are only keeping an animal.
quote by Enid Bagnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Doesn't Pay To Wear Red (A Kyrielle)
No Matter what the Captain might say
When he urges you to take part of that fray
You are better off to remain in Sick Bay
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'
The Captain will encourage you to be a brave young man
But neglects to tell you they'll use you as prey
And it is so easy to fall to his charismatic command
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'
You might want to reconsider stepping through that door
And by now I know this may sound a little cliche
Just ask any-red wearing Ensign that has gone before
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'
No matter what the Captain might say
It doesn't pay to wear red when your on an 'Away'
poem by Sheri Hockman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Would You Wear a Cowboy Hat for Me
Would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but like those cowboy hats, you see
So would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
A ten gallon hat, yeah black, now that’s the key
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you wear a cowboy hat for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
Would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but to like those cowboy boots, you see
So would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Rawhide leather, pointy and spurs yeah that’s the key
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you wear cowboy boots for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
Would you ride a horse for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
I can’t help but to like horses you see
So would you ride a horse for me?
Stallion, mustang, any kind would be
Please say yes, do not be coy
So would you ride a horse for me?
Even though I know you are a big city boy
Even though you are a big city boy
You ride a horse that’s black
Wear cowboy boots and a ten gallon hat
How can it be - you are now my cowboy
poem by Anna Pacheco
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Housework
Wash the dishes dear.
A bard doesn’t do dishes.
William Shakespeare did,
wrote his best work when cleaning windows,
for his wife.
I didn’t know that darling; anyway
windows look ok to me.
I didn’t mean the windows but the dishes.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Many Questions Our Life Arise
Not looking at anybody doesn't mean not to see,
To do the things you like doesn't mean to be free.
To be at the very verge of life doesn't mean to die.
And standing on the ground doesn't mean not to fly.
And how much to pepper so that all could be well?
And how much to sugar to sweeten the hell?
To live a normal life doesn't mean not to dream.
But how long to wait realizing that dream?
How loudly shout to suppress a whisper?
What questions to ask to recognize a twister?
Do not forgiving offense is not to keep the evil,
A beautiful appearance can hide the devil.
Not screaming with pain, doesn't mean not to suffer.
To be deceived, does not mean to be a duffer.
How cool to be to avoid the passion?
And how sensitive to be to see the affection?
Many questions in our tough life arise.
The answers are found if you are enough wise.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Winner Of This Battle
It's those...
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer.
It's those...
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer,
With a chasing away.
And...
The winner of this battle,
Doesn't ride on a saddle.
Or wear outfits,
To impress anybody they've got it licked.
The winner of this battle,
Doesn't ride on a saddle.
Or wear outfits,
To impress anybody they've got it licked.
Some do not expose,
Their woes on their sleeves.
With a showing they can be compose,
To a degree.
Although they may struggle,
With many troubles...
People like this don't deny,
They don't seek a ride to hide...
And rush away on alibis.
The winner of this battle,
Doesn't ride on a saddle.
Or wear outfits,
To impress anybody they've got it licked.
The winner of this battle,
Doesn't ride on a saddle.
Or wear outfits,
To impress anybody they've got it licked.
It's those...
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer.
Emotions we must conquer.
And the winner of this of this battle,
Are those...
Emotions that are conquered.
Emotions that are conquered.
Emotions that are conquered.
The winner of this battle...
Are those emotions that are conquered.
Emotions that are conquered.
Emotions that are conquered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Is Dying: Part 2 (Filicide)
Mother is infuriated
Mother is irritated
Mother is agitated
Mother is aggravated
Tormented by Her children
Sickened by Her children
Scarred by Her children
She is beginning to die
Mother was gentle
Mother was accepting
Mother was enduring
Though mother is now corrupted,
Similar to Her children
Her anger boils from her very core
Swirling vortexes of hatred dominate the skies
Her loathe floods Her children’s lives
The incarnate of Her disgust with Her children
Is devastating and cataclysmic
Her children can no longer find
Sanctuary from mother’s mercy
Mother is too enraged to rationalize
Mother will create The Rapture.
Mother will cause The Apocalypse.
Mother will eliminate humanity.
Mother will commit filicide.
poem by Alex Gomez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Just A Passenger (Box Car)
I'm just a passenger
on this old freight train
I ride the boxcar
through the night
I doesn't matter
where I might get off
I doesn't matter where I lie.
I've been to cities,
I've been to countries
I've left a lover in many towns
I don't care if
I ever get back to
Where I'd already been around.
I'm like an eagle,
I like to fly high
I'm like a snake,
I like to lay low
I'm like a black man,
I'm like a white man
Maybe a red man, I don't know.
I'm just a passenger
on this old freight train
I ride the boxcar
through the night
I doesn't matter
where I might get off
I doesn't matter where I lie.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Box Car
I'm just a passenger
on this old freight train
I ride the boxcar
through the night
I doesn't matter
where I might get off
I doesn't matter where I lie.
I've been to cities,
I've been to countries
I've left a lover in many towns
I don't care if
I ever get back to
Where I'd already been around.
I'm like an eagle,
I like to fly high
I'm like a snake,
I like to lay low
I'm like a black man,
I'm like a white man
Maybe a red man, I don't know.
I'm just a passenger
on this old freight train
I ride the boxcar
through the night
I doesn't matter
where I might get off
I doesn't matter where I lie.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Rain
There is no Golden rain in real life
But in our dreams you and I see it clear
It falls from the sky
It paints our face golden like the sun
It doesn’t matter in the dream
Because it is only in the dream that can happen
The trees and the flowers and the grass are golden also
Nothing like that would had happen in real life
Because in real life the rain is silver
And our face doesn’t change color with the rain
It only happens in our dream
Weird things happen when we are dreaming
The are no birds to see
What a strange land this is
No house
No cars
No bus
No other people
But you and me
That Golden rain keeps falling non stop
And keep raining down that creek
That Golden rain doesn’t look nice at all
Not even in our dreams
What about the weather
It is cold and miserable
It makes us even more tired
And we want to sleep more
It is happening now in our dreams
And that Golden rain in our dream is not going to hurt us
There is no acid in that Golden rain
And that land in our dream is not polluted like the land in real life
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Really Doesn't Matter
You say your ugly, i say it doesn't matter.
You say you have a dark past,
i say it doesn't matter.
You say theirs overwhelming responsibility,
i say it doesn't matter.
I don't believe in walking away when things get hard.
In fact they are my spark to continue my march.
Through thick and thin where to begin.
You say you don't have a way.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say that you cant give back what you would like.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say, you say oh it really doesn't matter,
I live one day at a time.
Choices will be made that will save the day
but hurt me financially.
It doesn't matter Choice will be made
that will set me back in my expectations.
It doesn't matter,
It really doesn't matter.
Its well worth it.
To see the beauty that
you have placed before me.
Oh how its worth it.
To settle down and not be looking to be found.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love You, Momma part 2
In my life, Momma, you've always been there.
Sometimes, it hits me how good I have it.
My monther loves me.
She doesn't abuse me.
She doesn't hurt me willingly.
She tries to understand me.
My mother helps me go The Way.
My mother doesn't use me,
For stupid little things,
She does them herself.
My mother has a careing heart and
A loving soul.
Does she know how I love her so?
All through growing up,
She was there when I cried,
Through the good times, and the bad.
At each graduation.
She is proud of my achievements,
And I of hers.
And though I am growing up,
I will remember at least most of
Her teachings.
Someday I'll teach my own children.
A mother's love has no bounds,
and a daughter's love is also boundless.
So thank you, Momma. I love you.
Happy Mother's Day
poem by Melanie Weeks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As The Rain Drops
As the rain drops, she cries
She sits close to the window crying
She sit alone wishing for someone
To hold her and kiss her
As the rain drops
She wishs for someone to fulfill
Her dreams someone to tell her
Things will be ok
As the rain drops
she sit alone in darkness waiting
For someone to come and share
Her pain
As the rain drops
we all cry
As the rain drops
I cry
poem by Obinna Nwerem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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