as a kid, movies were my life,
dramas, comedies, documentaries,
miniature worlds of love and strife,
i sat down and glued
my eyes to the silver screen
to violence and blood
rich reds splashed on green;
as i late-night consumed
an Iraq war drama flick,
i heard history unwinding,
wrapping its tendrils to pick
apart my thoughts one by one
flashback frames spin
past bloodstained orbs,
Iraqi bullets beat a din
in my ear drum echo chambers;
shouts shatter constructed dreams
of innocence,
sweating nightmares, muffled screams
i remembered stray bullets
ridding the body of a wayward child
red inking my green sleeves
as i cradled him, he smiled
and told me his name.
i jolt back to reality
blood forcing muscles to lift pen
capturing the totality
of my anger in writing,
film forcing finger
to tilt stylus to modern papyrus
worried thoughts linger
finger on trigger,
as I write a review,
criticizing needless dredging
of the past, through
cheap, violent thrills
meant to entertain
jaded eyes unfamiliar
with foreign terrain
my fingers move
pressing down with no direction
i transcribe his name
ink soaking a predetermined selection
of grooves, his name
echoes from the past:
Rahim.

Her birthday cards

All lined up on the mantle like

Happy paper people, waiting to give praise.

She placed her flowers just below

On the fireplace bricks like

A bouquet garden,

nurtured for ripe admiring.

It’s an impromptu display, in gentle notions reading:

“I am loved!”

Next to Grandpa’s old chair,

Where part of Grandma’s heart sleeps

At night.

What a beautiful home

She has kept

And keeps.

Memorabilia of a better time

When pride came from the simple things.

With a warm heart and keen eye,

Every adornment

In its proper home placed,

And atop the fireplace mantle

Is where you’ll find

The birthday cards.

Who in their right mind would choose to be a Mother?
For it is indeed a calling quite unlike any other
From the minute their children draw their first breath
Mothers are there for them right up until their death

They see their children as a gift from the man above
Feed them and nourish them, shower them with love
Watch over them, protect them, give them security
Let them know their Mothers love them, unconditionally
                                  
Mothers ensure their children have everything they need
Do absolutely everything they can to help them succeed
Praise, scold, and encourage them as they begin to grow
teach them all of the important things they need to know.

A Mother is on duty every single hour of every day
working the maximum of hours for little or no pay
gets very little thanks, shown precious little gratitude
in fact from kids a Mother gets mostly bad attitude!

Not one minutes break from the stress and the worry
Caused by kids who seem determined to grow up in a hurry
Who tend to question everything their Mother might say
Often accusing their Mothers of getting in their way.

Even when they cannot seem to do right for doing wrong
A Mothers love for her children remains forever strong
Mothers never give up no, no Mother will ever rest
All they want is for their children to be their very best.

Mothers guide us through childhood and our teenage years
There for us through good and bad times, laughter and tears
Often taken for granted, we don’t appreciate them as we should,
only realising how much they do for us when we reach adulthood

But a Mothers job is not done when her children are all grown
Even after they are married, have homes and children of their own
Mothers still worry and stress because they genuinely care
Ensuring their children know their Mother will always be there.

So if you love your Mother do not be afraid to say
You should tell her more often but especially on Mothers Day
While it is lovely to give flowers and gifts and such
They would mean so much more with a personal touch

For all she has done for you she deserves a big “Thank You”
It would mean so much to her to hear you say “I LOVE YOU”
though you may think she already knows it,  Say it anyway
because those three little words would make any Mothers day.