Yesterday is a Maze.
History is bunk some one said.
History is an interpretation of
the past said another. Yesterday
is a lost land to Mother. Her half
blind eyes scan him and she says
who are you? He informs her,
but she is none the wiser. She just
smiles and looks away. Maybe she'll
remember him another day.
Nine months she carried him
within her womb. Her first born
whom she tended, fed and bred
and suckled, whom she nearly lost,
but saved and thought of in her
unclouded days. Dribble hangs
about her lips. Her words come
jumbled as if she pulled them
randomly from a box without
knowing or looking. Some days
they make sense; others, not.
Years ago she'd talk of art or
music or how to behave in a
certain way with a ladylike
manner in her stance or walk.
Now she sits most days in her
special chair. Her blue white eyes
in vacant stare. But he loves her
none the less. Still gives her
the honour due, gazes into
her eyes. Thinking that somewhere
within or beyond his Mother lies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Page of my History
Some laughs some tears
This is it, its what we feared
We are going our separate ways
Things getting easier by the days
You’re now a page of my history
Many days of adventure and fun
But we both know we aren’t the one
The pain eases so very slow
But it’s for the best and we know it
You’re now a page of my history
The not knowing is the mystery
But us being together is history
We will get over the misery
Even though I miss yee
You’re now a page of my history
We gave it our best shot
But it was a game we lost
Our love is lost but never gone
We will find a place to keep it safe
You’re now a page of my history
poem by Stephanie Mcgrath
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The Days to Remember
Do you remember the days?
The days of Cinderella wanting to go the ball
The days of the seven dwarfs
The days when you believed in it
I remember those days
The days you held your mother’s hand
The days when you wished on a star
The days you believed that wish would come true
Do you remember the days?
The days of jump rope
The days of secret hand shakes
The days you believed it was just so easy
I remember those days
The days when you would hide and they would seek
The days of spending all day playing ball
The days you thought it would never get hard
We all remember those days
poem by Ambra Milton
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The Mother's Story! ! ! ! ! !
Once a mother
went to the school
of her son
who made her fool
for she loved him
and lived for him
he was to her
everything from sun to flower
all the classmates
came to greet
the mother of the boy
and giggled and laughed
for the mother had only an eye
and her face was cartoon like
in the evening
when the boy reddening
came home angrily
and chided his mum
that never again come to school
or else I will quit my going to school
Mother was sad
and agreed every word
and from that day
her feet never touched
the grounds of her son's
the son grew up
but the scar never healed
it hurt him
to have a mother-one eyed
he want to go
far off to shake off
the shame of life
to have a mother without eye
he went away
to a place far off
got a job
and a wife and a kid and laugh
once the mother
wished to see
the little infant
her milking tottler
she planned to visit
and visit did she
to be turned away
by the son
rudily stung and stray
days and months
life rolled away
and the days of mother
gathered no more further
the son was soon sent a word
by the neighbours attending the mad
by the time the son arrived
the mother' s body was engraved
and there she lay the sweet woman
in peace of heavens and ease of mind
a word or two and the son was handed
a letter from the dead mum lastily penned
he tore it open as he was on his way
back to his home as nothing did it worry
to say goodbye to things he have not cared
the letter carried a message
the mother has written in all her life
to the babe of her womb
who all life and flesh did her tomb
' dear son, the eyes of yours
are the eyes of mine
when in sunshine
of my youth did you meet
an accident and lost the sight
I gave you my looks
to cheer up your looks
so that the world outside
dont say things bad and blind
not you be and handsome find
though dead I see through you
you are my eyes
and I see the world
through you and your eyes......'
that was the story of the one-eyed mother
who weighed upon the sobbing future
of the selfish creature
poem by Lalitha Iyer
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Only A Limited Time
So 5 days of silence
5 days to compile
5 days to realize
This inner peace will take awhile.
Consumed by brother's weakness
Enraged by father's hate
Only now I've had 5 days
To sit and contemplate.
Showing people sides of me
That they have never seen
Giving out pamphlets
Trying to chart what all this means.
So 5 days to find an angel.
One I thought was lost.
Five days to reconnect
With time that exceeds
All past times lost.
Now I'm regaining energy
It is so hard to behave.
I'm ready to move on to
Passions.
It is real feelings that I crave.
I want to feel beauty
Happiness
Some release.
I say the feeling surpasses
Comfort and soars right on to peace.
5 days to make sure
Heart has to relate straight to mind.
5 days to realize that you
Really want only one flows free kind.
5 days it has been
To get back to ground.
To make sure that
I would not miss out
On this new flow that I have found.
5 days contain so much
5 days that seem so gone
5 days to become lost
5 days to carry on.
poem by Raechael Woodroof
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Half The Man
yesterday i was half the man i used to be
maybe that's because you're the other half of me
like the spring in bloom
the summer of our love is soon
every bird will sing
the melody of our love tune
sent down from above
unconditionally love
likened to a flower
stronger love grows by the hour
stormy weather days
make us go our separate ways
where our love was so at ease
now you got me down on my knees
yesterday i was
brighter than the morning sun
now my love is lost
and lonely days have just begun
a solitary chair
for a silent love affair
a king has lost his throne
and now he sits alone
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An American
An American,
she thought he was,
the hair cut
and the style of clothes
gave her a clue,
at least that
and the drawn out
drawl like he was drawing
the words
from a deep well.
Her father called him a Yank,
didn’t take to him at all,
wouldn’t even speak
when he said, Hello Sir,
all kind of polite,
thoughtful and well bred,
and her mother
was always gazing at him,
taking in his walk,
his talk and remembering
years before,
some similar American
with his big blue eyes
and wide wallet
brushed her off her feet
and broke her heart
and left a bundle
in her womb,
a daughter,
wanting to go
with an American now,
history trying to repeat,
break a heart
after sweeping of her feet.
poem by Terry Collett
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Unseen Visitor
You imprisoned in
Mother’s womb
When I was arrested and imprisoned
In social prison womb
Without seeking the sun and moon
Days and weeks
Months and years passed
And in the meantime you released from uterus
Keeping eternal pain
in my heart no one seen
Without a name and a born father
Grew up in a transitional time
And I put a name after three months
Relatives knew
But it concealed to neighbors
“Her father has been in abroad”
After almost six months
My daughter with mother
In front of the prison
Where crowding packed room in prison
Between the wall and through a small window fixed a
Small holes net
They have come to see me
.
Touching the iron bar
She was looking at me
Tears collapsed
Out of eyes of mother
But my eyes dried up
As the heart weeping
“This is your father”
Asked with sighs
She smiled
Looking at me
Touching the iron bar
Udaya R. Tennakoon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Remeber
'All my life,
I've been searching,
until that day when,
I met you.'
These words seem foolish,
to me now,
just looking back,
I fell for that? !
What did I know,
nothing I suppose,
for now I see,
you never meant a word.
I hope one day,
I can look back,
and understand why,
you did what you did.
But until then,
I just sit,
in pain and agony,
because of you.
I hope one day,
you'll feel such pain,
then realize how badly,
you hurt me.
I know it's wrong,
to wish pain on another,
but I really want you,
to understand all this.
But that's long in the past,
though days I still dream,
of the times we shared,
and what you meant to me.
We had something special,
but it never lasted long,
but those days leading up to it,
I'll never forget.
The way you let,
your heart do the talking,
the way you just,
were all you could be.
The way our eyes met,
the way our hands touched,
such perfect days,
now just dreams.
I would get lost,
in your eyes,
and keep silent,
as you spoke.
I remember those days,
do you as well,
remember the time,
my heart skipped a beat?
The laughs,
the tears,
the love,
and warmth.
But I guess,
it's all in the past,
there's nothing I can do,
but just let go of you.
poem by Katherine Bryce
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Language from Womb to Tomb
It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.
It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.
It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.
It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________
May 7,2010
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Sweetmother
Let her be nice, let her be wicked is she, mother is my mother. Let her be beauty, let her be ugly, mother is my mother. A gold that can never be lost, she look after me even if am wicked, she look into my eyes when am wick praying all days for my life. Even if she don't eat, she will look for what to eat. Let her be ugly, mother is my mother when i was still a kid, she carries me gently on her hand, she willlonl into my eyes and smile, she will say my good child when you are strong, you will make it in life, you will be successful even more that mother. There is no better love than mama's care. I love you mother. May you dat the FRUIT OF YOUR LABOUR.
poem by Lekadabra Fadimu
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Rebirth / A new day has comes
Tired of walking these days
Your old body celebrates its 60th birthday
The moment, eyes too weak to be opened
Sights become too blur to welcome ray
What left only dream of past dream stained
Back to yesterday
Mourning for what u can't achieved
Living with someone with not trusted and believed
Make life so hard almost to cleave
Regret all mistakes that you've leave
Keep thinking what contribution u was gave
And actually what you've gave? ....
20years before...
Did you remember how much time you wasted?
Busy complaining of life to live in pain
Just need to end bad days, that all what you wanted
Still not to fight but surrender to illusion pain
You not kid anymore, cry and think future for granted
You big enough to make a move, to make change through the rain
15years before that
You was young and filled with energy
High dreaming, but just let dreams to be only a dream
You have many chances, but u afraid to make a change
Swept by your negative thinking, you lost your teenage dream
At this age, chances still come but you never did a change
Lost in life trick, you blind to see future beam
10years previously
Grown up as teenager, fresher time ever
Explore yourself, everything you want to discover
Got high ambitious dreams and clever
Future will be bright if u has this courage forever
Frustration crying failed to stop u ever
8years ago before that age
Smiles, laugh, cry on your innocent face
Didn't know how hard life you will face
So brave, everything possible at this little age
Keep this u will be embraced by grace
When u was a baby
Nurtured with loves and raised with hopes
Be useful person, live in joy, your parents hope
Now, do you regret to break all the hopes?
Static like a statue you injected with fear dopes
Back to the present time
You still young and just preoccupied
Just wake up, open your eyes
Let the ray bring sight to your eyes
Waste time to lost hope,
New days come, bring new ropes
You only half way in this life road
Use your intuition at this crossroad
Drop your surrender, confidence to load
Look back, think ahead, do plan and think broad
One day, at 60years old fully loaded with smiles of gold
......................................... ................................................. ......
Note: Don't give up, once you give up mean u have book
to have regret clouds for your old days...
For teenage friends here like me, let's chase dream! ! let past be the past
Unwritten Soul
......................................... ................................................. .......
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Sadness Of Being
There's a sadness to our being,
Lola thinks, now swaying to the
Movement of the train, studying
People nearby, their faces in the
Morning light, their gestures,
Their inner thoughts unknowable,
Carrying their grief, their broken
Dreams, their unfulfilled appetites.
She senses the muscles in her bottom
Tense and untense as the train sways,
Her thighs stiffening to give balance,
Her hands folded on her handbag,
Ladylike, as Mother taught, some
Time ago, among other more important
Things, how to behave, how not to behave,
What to say in public and what not.
The train stops at a station, people
Get off and some get on, different
Faces to study, others lost, possibly
To sight for life, passing ships in a dull
Night, gone now never to be known
By her, never to be dreamed of or missed
Or grieved over some future death.
The train moves on, she sways again,
Her body moving to the motion as others
Do, and watching them, the way they sway,
The dying embers in their eyes, their words
Not said, the thoughts coming and going
Inside each head, sadness or some private
Joy, not shared, least not yet, not with her.
Sit still and be quiet, Mother would say,
Children ought (she always said ought) to
Be observed not heard, and as she sways
Now, thinking of her mother and her mother's
Words and ways, she feels she wants to shout
And jump about, to flout her mother's rules and
Words and sayings and laws, but she just sits and
Stares, silently, thinks rebellion, but never dares.
poem by Terry Collett
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Days Of Our Lives
How many times have you walked through my door
How many times have you heard my song before
How many lines until the end of time
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you hear mother say
You would do fine if you didn't sleep all day
Oh mother dear, I'll get a job next year
These are the days of our lives
How many times did you walk down the street
Avoiding cracks that were thrown at your feet
These rainy days were sent to make us pay
But these are the days of our lives
How many roads must a woman walk down
How many walls will surround the town
All that I am could get us out of here
These are the days of our lives
Did you believe in the stories at night
Weren't you afraid when they turned out the light
Oh, such a gas, I'm sorry it won't last
These are the days of our lives
These are the days that some of us regret
These are the days we learn to forget
These are the days that turn us out this way
These are the days of our lives
Of our lives
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Waste My Days
In the half-twilight of my empty year
Where I crouch, hemmed in
By an avalanche of days,
I hear the trees murmur
In some long, sad fatigue,
While birds land, hover…
And break their journeys.
My life has bunched its folds,
They gather at my feet,
As clouds, grey, scud across each enterprise;
Behind my eyes are glimpses of
Lost days, more sure and wise,
While love lies, mocking me,
And each year cries…
The clock ticks relentlessly,
The dead leaves fall,
My lost friends walk at my horizon,
The things I found familiar
Have ceased to draw my gaze…
I sleep too long and often, and
I waste my days…
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Days Without You
Waking up with tears in my eyes
Knowing I may never see you again
Is like someone is stabbing me in my heart
And twisting the knife until it comes out
I know you don’t think of me
Cause you are not like that
Your too matcher for that
But I can’t to get you off my mind
It’s not fair that you can do it and
Then act like nothing happened at all
I feel like I'm being pulled apart
And you’re just fine
Or do you think of me no
No that’s what I want
And it's my entire fault
That I can’t stop thinking about you
I'm just a tramp
That can’t pass up an opportunity to get some
You are so much better then me
You deserve better then this
Then me
You deserve much more then what I can give you
I'm just a stupid teen that can’t seem to control her hormones
But I will give you all I can give you
Your wish is my command
Hours pass on by like a 300 car train
The days pass on by with out you
Like slugs crossing the road
But as slow and painful the days are with out you
Somehow I make it throw
But if I had it my way
There will not be many more days
I have to suffer with out you
Until I see you once more
But days without you
Are days with out you
And I can’t change that
I have nothing to look forward to
Other then more
And more
Days with out you
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Much That I Remember About You
I remember you
I remember the first time I saw you
Looking up and there you were, an angel on earth
It occurred when I didn’t expect it, wasn’t looking
Seeing you and thinking that you were pretty
Seeing you and wondering why, afterwards, I
Remember you more now
I remember your voice
I remember the first time I heard and it enchanted me
Dulcet tones playing hypnotic music disguised as a woman’s voice
It happened in conversation, in the harmony of all you spoke
Hearing the coy happiness in the words we shared
Hearing the smile in your tone so that I
Remember your voice now
I remember your eyes
I remember the first time I became lost in them
How it was a time when our eyes met in more than just a glance
It happened in a moment, together with you
Seeing in your eyes more than just a casual interest
Seeing in your eyes myself and us which is why I
Remember your eyes now
I remember your skin
I remember the first time I felt the touch of your skin
When your fingertips brushed mine in flirting invitation
It flashed in a moment, skin to skin
Feeling the electricity of your touch, your skin against mine
Feeling the heat passing between us as I
Remember the feel of your skin now
I remember how you made me feel
I remember the first time I admitted to myself
What I felt for you was more than just friendship
It came in a moment, talking with you
Realizing that every thought of you made me smile
Realizing that each smile made me
Remember even more how you made me feel
I remember why I fell for you
I remember this all the time now
The memory comes in thoughts, your voice, your eyes
It happens in every moment these days, loving you
Knowing that what happened between us is a good beginning
Knowing that we could be much more always helps me
Remember constantly why I fell in love with you
poem by David Terry
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Old Times
Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times;
Of the long lost golden hours.
When "Winter" meant only Christmas chimes,
And "Summer" wreaths of flowers.
Life has grown old, and cold, my friend,
And the winter now, means death.
And summer blossoms speak all too plain
Of the dear, dead forms beneath.
But let us talk of the past to-night;
And live it over again,
We will put the long years out of sight,
And dream we are young as then.
But you must not look at me, my friend,
And I must not look at you,
Or the furrowed brows, and silvered locks,
Will prove our dream untrue.
Let us sing of the summer, too sweet to last,
And yet too sweet to die.
Let us read tales, from the book of the past,
And talk of the days gone by.
We will turn our backs to the West, my friend,
And forget we are growing old.
The skies of the Present are dull, and gray,
But the Past's are blue, and gold.
The sun has passed over the noontide line
And is sinking down the West.
And of friends we knew in days Lang Syne,
Full half have gone to rest.
And the few that are left on earth, my friend
Are scattered far, and wide.
But you and I will talk of the days
Ere any roamed, or died.
Auburn ringlets, and hazel eyes
Blue eyes and tresses of gold.
Winds joy laden, and azure skies,
Belong to those days of old.
We will leave the Present's shores awhile
And float on the Past's smooth sea.
But I must not look at you, my friend,
And you must not look at me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Through Mother's Eyes
Through Mother’s Eyes
© 2009 (Jim Grant Sularz)
With my first Soulful breath,
it was Mother’s eyes I saw.
She counted my tiny fingers and toes,
leaned gently, to kiss my brow.
Announcements sent out right away,
my name chosen, so carefully.
The name, I think, a famous General’s claim,
was now the name, I’d call my own.
My first birthday gift,
sweet cake smeared across my face and lips.
The first steps I took, outside Mother’s reach,
she sprinkled Fairy dust, to help me Fly!
Each year, with each measured line,
Mother made my mark along the door.
But I always tried to fudge a bit,
with tiptoes on the floor.
Bumps and scrapes and crying soothed,
some ointment, she’d kiss away the pain.
Everyday, I'd come running back to Mother,
for hugs and kisses, anyway.
First day of school, anxious cries at Home,
an endless day away from Mom.
“Draw me a “choo-choo” trains, ” she said,
and I drew them - all day long.
It was through Mother’s eyes, that I glimpse the World,
both good and bad were explained.
But only good would make it past Mother’s eyes,
and the bad was chased fast away.
Warm Summer days, Family picnics at the lake,
corn dogs and ice cream on a stick.
Cold snowy nights, white frosted windowpanes,
making snow Angels, with half-frozen fingertips.
First school date, first Christmas dance,
where Cinderellas and Princes pranced.
But, the eyes I noticed now,
were no longer just my Mother’s.
Long years of school, drills and rules,
a Foreign shore, a Sweetheart missed.
And through it all, there was always Mother's voice,
calling me Home, from a War's abyss.
Wedding bells rang out crystal clear,
those other eyes I noticed, were now adored.
The years flew by, our Children grew,
and Mother grew older, too.
Thanksgiving feasts around the table,
Children born, toasts, and loud celebrations,
Birthday gifts, songs, proud graduations,
and Mother’s bright eyes, began to dim.
In her quiet manner, with a solemn look,
Mother smiled and held my hands.
“Upstairs, there’s a jar, behind my easy chair,
go there - when the time is right.'
When Death arrived, in wait for Mother,
with a chilled silence, on the darkest night.
Mother reached out for her last embrace,
then was wisked away, bathed in light.
Mother never washed off my marks along the door,
saved a flower from my first Christmas Dance.
Framed her collection of my “choo-choo” trains,
next to a portrait of General Grant.
Grand Children loved to dress up at “Great Granny’s House, ''
where Cinderellas and Princes pranced.
And upstairs - Mother left me her Fairy dust,
to help them Fly!
poem by Jim Sularz
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Beautiful Bashful Eyes
Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
I love your beautiful bashful eyes.
They remind me of a song.,
a song to describe their color
and their lids that are half closed.
They never let me see behind them.
What they're feeling is never exposed.
Big beautiful bashful eyes
are lost in timid intent.
I wish for them to open wide
to see where they have spent
their shy-retiring gazes?
Were they ever looking my way?
Or were they lost in silent thought
afraid that they might stray
And find that all around you
eyes would be looking your way?
My eyes would be among them
and you would hear me say.
'Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
you've captivated my attention
and are now the words to my song.
'Beautiful eyes, bashful and blue
my thoughts are lost in you.
Your lashes long, your lids dreamy-eyed,
no one can tell what secrets they hide.
I have secrets my eyes hide too.
They're all about my feelings for you.
Those bashful eyes have become for me
everything that I dreamed they would be.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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