The Merchant
Imagine, mother, that you are to stay at home and I am to travel
into strange lands.
Imagine that my boat is ready at the landing fully laden.
Now think well, mother, before you say what I shall bring for
you when I come back.
Mother, do you want heaps and heaps of gold?
There, by the banks of golden streams, fields are full of
golden harvest.
And in the shade of the forest path the golden champ flower
drop on the ground.
I will gather them all for you in many hundred baskets.
Mother, do you want pearls big as the raindrops of autumn?
I shall cross to the pearl island shore.
There in the early morning light pearls tremble on the meadow
flowers, pearls drop on the grass, and pearls are scattered on the
sand in spray by the wild sea-waves.
My brother shall have a pair of horses with wings to fly among
the clouds.
For father I shall bring a magic pen that, without his
knowing, will write of itself.
For you, mother, I must have the casket and jewel that cost
seven kings their kingdom.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Related quotes
Mother In Law
(a. toussaint)
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
The worst person I know
Mother in law, mother in law
She worries me so
Mother in law, mother in law
If she leaves us alone
We could have a happy home
Sent from down below
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Satan should be her name
Mother in law, mother in law
To me theyre about the same
Mother in law, mother in law
Everytime I open my mouth
Steps in trying to put me out
How could you stood so low
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Come home with my pay
Mother in law, mother in law
She asks me what I made
Mother in law, mother in law
She thinks her advice is a contribution
If she would leave that would be the solution
Dont come back no more
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law....
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mid the Piteous Heaps of Dead
'MID the piteous heaps of dead
Goes one weary golden head
Tossing ever to and fro,
Calling loud and calling low.
Mother, mother, step so light,
Mother, lay your fingers white
On my forehead like a dew !
Mother, mother, where are you?
Still so loud he makes his cry
That the dying cannot die;
All the writhing field's one groan
While he lies and cries alone.
But his mother's far away;
Cannot hear him cry and say:
Mother, I am dying, come!
Mother, I am lost from home!
Mary, Mother of all men,
Come and comfort him in pain.
Take his young head to the breast
Where your Child and God had rest.
Mary, Mary, step so light.
Mary, lay your fingers white
On his forehead! He shall dream
That his mother comforts him.
Mary, Mother, croon him o'er
Lullabies you sang before!
Mary, ease him, crooning low,
In the way that mothers know!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Fine Pearls
To the flute players,
To the professional mourners,
Don't cast your pearls before the swine;
What kind of man is this that i have to touch his tallit?
Fine pearls, fine pearls!
What kind of woman is this?
She who had been the wife of Uriyah.
To sit down with Abraham,
To sit down with Isaac,
TO sit down with Yaaqob,
Your eyes will see this and more;
For i am the one with the fine pearls.
Was Cain not Abel's brother?
Was Esau not Yaaqob's brother?
Outwitted by the wise men when,
The fine pearls were laid bare.
Meek and lowly in heart,
Where are you lovely ones?
He who is not with me is against me,
But my mind will always write.
To be trained like a bird,
To be trained like a pilot,
Like a young child and his father;
Peace to the heavens with the fine pearls when,
My mind do the writing.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Land of the Exile
Mother, the light has grown grey in the sky; I do not know what
the time is.
There is no fun in my play, so I have come to you. It is
Saturday, our holiday.
Leave off your work, mother; sit here by the window and tell
me where the desert of Tepantar in the fairy tale is.
The shadow of the rains has covered the day from end to end.
The fierce lightning is scratching the sky with its nails.
When the clouds rumble and it thunders, I love to be afraid
in my heart and cling to you.
When the heavy rain patters for hours on the bamboo leaves,
and our windows shake and rattle at the gusts of wind, I like to
sit alone in the room, mother, with you, and hear you talk about
the desert of Tepantar in the fairy tale.
Where is it, mother, on the shore of what sea, at the foot of
what hills, in the kingdom of what king?
There are no hedges there to mark the fields, no footpath
across it by which the villagers reach their village in the
evening, or the woman who gathers dry sticks in the forest can
bring her load to the market. With patches of yellow grass in the
sand and only one tree where the pair of wise old birds have their
nest, lies the desert of Tepantar.
I can imagine how, on just such a cloudy day, the young son
of the king is riding alone on a grey horse through the desert, in
search of the princess who lies imprisoned in the giant's palace
across that unknown water.
When the haze of the rain comes down in the distant sky, and
lightning starts up like a sudden fit of pain, does he remember his
unhappy mother, abandoned by the king, sweeping the cow-stall and
wiping her eyes, while he rides through the desert of Tepantar in
the fairy tale?
See, mother, it is almost dark before the day is over, and
thee are no travellers yonder on the village road.
The shepherd boy has gone home early from the pasture, and men
have left their fields to sit on mats under the eaves of their
huts, watching the scowling clouds.
Mother, I have left all my books on the shelf-do not ask me
to do my lessons now.
When I grow up and am bid like my father, I shall learn all
that must be learnt.
But just for today, tell me, mother, where the desert of
Tepantar in the fairy tale is.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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What is a mother? pt 2
What is a mother? A mother is a friend.
What is a mother? A mother is your hero.
What is a mother? A mother is someone who can make your wishes comes true.
What is a mother? A mother is sugar and spice.
What is a mother? A mother knows all the coolest music and style.
What is a mother? A mother is everything in between.
What is a mother? A mother is a better version of you.
What is a mother? A mother is your mommy till the day that you leave this world behind.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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What is a mother?
What is a mother? A mother is a friend.
What is a mother? A mother is your hero.
What is a mother? A mother is someone who can make your wishes comes true.
What is a mother? A mother is sugar and spice.
What is a mother? A mother knows all the coolest music and style.
What is a mother? A mother is everything in between.
What is a mother? A mother is a better version of you.
What is a mother? A mother is your mommy till the day that you leave this world behind.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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In The Footprints of My Mother
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall step to you.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall stay innocent and true.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall not give up hope.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall give you my love note.
In the footprints of my mother,
Lead me to a better path.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall releive in her wrath.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall cure all of your pains.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall bring you great reigns.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall unleash the angels of truth.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall defeat the evils booth.
The footprints of my mother,
led me straight to you.
The footprints of my mother,
Shown me I have nothing left to loose.
The footprints of my mother,
Guieded me towards the compelling lights.
The footprints of my mother,
Guided me towards the love of my life.
poem by Erin Grantham
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I still need a mother
I need a mother who would love me
I need a mother who would take care of me
I need a mother who would understand me
I need a mother for who I am
I need a mother to know me
I need a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would not yell at her son
I need a mother who won't push her son away
I need a mother who would not throw me out of her life
Even though I still need a mother
Everyday I try to be nice
Sometime she don't care about me
What I need is a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would watch me grow
I need a mother who would celebrate my birthday
I need a mother who would miss me
I need a mother to cry on
I need a mother to know that her son loves her
But she won't let me know her
What I need is a mother
Who is no more now.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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I still need a mother
I need a mother who would love me
I need a mother who would take care of me
I need a mother who would understand me
I need a mother for who I am
I need a mother to know me
I need a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would not yell at her son
I need a mother who won't push her son away
I need a mother who would not throw me out of her life
Even though I still need a mother
Everyday I try to be nice
Sometime she don't care about me
What I need is a mother who would be there for me
I need a mother who would watch me grow
I need a mother who would celebrate my birthday
I need a mother who would miss me
I need a mother to cry on
I need a mother to know that her son loves her
But she won't let me know her
What I need is a mother
Who is no more now.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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May Mother Be...
May mother be felt like a love garden
My mother feels me just like fragile flowers
May mother be just like a huge sky
My mother keeps me a star in the sky
May mother be just like a love stove
My mother feels me just innocent smoke
May mother be just like a imaginary picture
My mother feels me a coloured picture
I might be cloud to my mother
My mother feels me just like a rain drop! !
My Real Goddess
Today my mother
Came to my house
With lots of blessing
And full of good wishing
To live long
Happy and healthy
Progressive and wealthy
My mother
My sweet mother
My beautiful mother
My loving mother
My real goddess
My ever goodness
My first lady I loved
My life my mother
My soul my mother
My God-gift my mother
My pride my mother
My aim my mother
My teacher my mother
My friend my mother
My preacher my mother
My daughter's face look-like my mother
My daughter my little mother
O the Absolute Almighty
Give me my mother
Again and again
And again and again
My mother
Only my mother.
poem by Dr. P. K. Verma
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Random things about my Mother
My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue
My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake
My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane
My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine
My mother who knew
No contentment in living
My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two
My mother who it is true
Stopped living long before she died
My mother from whose mouth flew
Words of disappointment and fury
My mother whose lips
Tasted bitter tears
My mother sat impatiently
In sorrow through her years
My mother who like Kunta Kinte
Was tamed by Diabets
My mother who was tamed
By my father
My mother who was captured by my father
My mother who fought with my father
The two them struggling false teeth piercing each others flesh
My mother who my father told to go and cook the mint
My mother who would beat us and cause wounds and bruises to our skin
My mother who love to walk about
My mother who gave a toe
A day away
My mother who kiked with her stump of a leg after she lost her foot
My mother who was a great dresser
My mother who could sing
Sang on the church choir
My mother who would be at the front of the church earliest every Saturday
My mother who insisted I be baptized and save by the holy ghost
My mother had beautiful handwriting
My mother who had nine children for five different men
My mother who tried to settle down with my father
My mother who could never swim
My mother who loved to sing
My mother who would tie us up on leashes and take us for long walks through the town
My mother who sought out hand me-downs – for our clothing
My mother who was active in the Welfare Society at church so she could cream the crop for her family
My mother who instigated many a conflicts with her numerous friend was left with only a few in the end.
My mother whom I so wanted to help evolve
My mother who I helped to live
My mother who I had to let die
My mother who lives in me
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Childhood. (From The Danish)
There was a time when I was very small,
When my whole frame was but an ell in height;
Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do fall,
And therefore I recall it with delight.
I sported in my tender mother's arms,
And rode a-horseback on best father's knee;
Alike were sorrows, passions and alarms,
And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me,
Then seemed to me this world far less in size,
Likewise it seemed to me less wicked far;
Like points in heaven, I saw the stars arise,
And longed for wings that I might catch a star.
I saw the moon behind the island fade,
And thought, 'Oh, were I on that island there,
I could find out of what the moon is made,
Find out how large it is, how round, how fair!'
Wondering, I saw God's sun, through western skies,
Sink in the ocean's golden lap at night,
And yet upon the morrow early rise,
And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light;
And thought of God, the gracious Heavenly Father,
Who made me, and that lovely sun on high,
And all those pearls of heaven thick-strung together,
Dropped, clustering, from his hand o'er all the sky.
With childish reverence, my young lips did say
The prayer my pious mother taught to me:
'O gentle God! oh, let me strive alway
Still to be wise, and good, and follow Thee!'
So prayed I for my father and my mother,
And for my sister, and for all the town;
The king I knew not, and the beggar-brother,
Who, bent with age, went, sighing, up and down.
They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished,
And all the gladness, all the peace I knew!
Now have I but their memory, fondly cherished;--
God! may I never lose that too!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Mother may I
Mother may I
throw food around
because I am contrary as an infant?
Mother may I
play in the mud
because I like when you have to bathe me?
Mother may I
eat all the cookies
just because they taste so yummy?
Mother may I
draw on the walls
because I like your attention?
Mother may I
not do my homework
because I want to grow up faster?
Mother may I
stay out all night
because I feel like I'm suffocating at home?
Mother may I
have sex in your bed
because you arn't home to know about it?
Mother may I
borrow the car
so my friends and I can get high on the bridge?
Mother may I
take the TV
because I'll need something to do at college?
Mother may I
borrow some money
because I spent all of mine on the raised cigarette tax?
Mother may I
take you for granted
because I don't know any better?
Mother may I
have an abortion
because I am scared to become you so quickly?
Mother may I
cry in your arms
because I finally know what it feels like to be used?
Mother may I
come home to you
because I still love you more than anything?
Mother may I
have another cookie
because now I know to ask?
Mother may I
take your advice
because I want to know if he's right for me?
Mother may I
fall in love
because I want to be whole?
Mother may I
have your grandchild
because I want to be just like you?
Mother may I
give her your name
because she's just as beautiful to me as you are?
Mother may I
love you forever
because you are my loving mother and never gave up on me?
poem by Erica Francis
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I fear
I fear
Ask not anything
I have no pearls
I am pearls
Ask not anything
I fear
My mother is here
She is superior
Do not go against
Anybody
I fear
And it is against you
With back-gear.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Clouds and Waves
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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While Oysters Make Pearls...
I saw God
in three dolphins
swimming
I sat in his sandbox
the seagull's footprints
reminded me
of peace signs
upside down
nature is whaling
while oysters make
pearls...
I am playing
in God's sandbox
soaking up
the sublime
Mother Ocean
Mother Earth
Mother
me
poem by L.K. Thayer
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What a mother should be
A mother is the one who loves you
A mother puts no drug above you
A mother will never make you cry
A mother will never make you want to die
A mother will help you fight your fears
A mother will help you stop your tears
A mother will keep you safe and sound
A mother will never let you down
A mother will daily say I love you
A mother won’t say I hate you
A mother won’t wish you were dead
A mother won’t forget what you said
A mother won’t close the door
A mother won’t let you be poor
Now I ask you, do you have a mother?
Cause’ I don’t, so don’t bother.
poem by Carlisa Smith
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Like No Other...Mother
Mother...
Mother, who gave us her heart...her very soul.
Mother, who's understanding never wavered.
Mother, the one who dried our tears.
Mother, she lead us to the path of His Love.
Mother, who washed our cloths and cleaned the house.
Mother, who instilled confidence in her children.
Mother, who walked us to school.
Mother, who loved us like no other.
Mother, who quelled the anger within us.
Mother, who drove us to all our practices.
Mother, who never forgot our special occasions.
Mother, who protected her family, as a lion to a cub.
Mother, who always supported our father.
Mother, who scrimped and saved for our daily needs.
Mother, who was always the last to eat.
Mother, who was always the first to rise.
Mother, who cared for the animals.
Mother, a love that knew no limits.
Mother, who forever placed her family, before herself.
Mother, who was grateful, for every passing acknowledgement.
Mother, whose eyes shined, when she heard the words,
I love you mom.
Mother, who always saw the good in us.
Mother, who always taught us to never, never, give up.
Mother, who instilled in us, to be better.
Mother, who made us believe, we could accomplish anything.
Mother, mother...mother, you were like no other.
Mother, you will always remain, in our
hearts, in our deeds, in our thoughts,
in our lives and in our prayers.
Surely, beyond the stars, there's a special place for Mothers.