Your wicked tongue awoke
Between crooked teeth
And a scarred smile

An accent at the boom
Of your voice; could shatter
Cities of marble to sand

The plague you've sent
As we prayed for an end
And you took your throne

But this is love, isn't it?
You whispered to us all
Through an open palm

This was all there is
And all that ever will be
You are the omega

You've slayed and conquered
But like caped crusaders fallen
You were mortal all along

And I realize that now
Whelmed through life's storm
You, too, never knew love

for those whose mothers are no more
the annual business hype of what to give
    and where to take your mother
is but  a sad remembrance of loss
stirring up memories of happier times
when she was still a pillar in your universe
loved and revered, and sometimes feared,
who taught you, patiently or not,  
the basics of survival in your expanding world.

She knew, while you were as yet unaware  
that all her loving preparations
would over time mean separation.

When you struck out to shape your life
all by yourself and left her with her fears for you,
her wishes,  and the hopes that what she tried
to give you was enough and right,
your heart and mind were elsewhere,  far away,
focused upon the future of your independent life.

Your years run fast and busy, and suddenly one day
you stand before her coffin
and discover that it is too late
for all the questions never asked.

What you have left are memories
and a vague sense of having missed the chance
to see - and maybe even understand a little -
the woman she has also been
throughout her life, behind her loving face
of a dear mother’s care and grace.

She clung to me like willow shade,
With one step I'm in the sun;
If my day got hot and hazy,
I knew where to run.

She dropped a force field round me,
From ground up to my crown;
I burrowed once beneath her,
But I was digging down.

I want to cross the street.
I want to ride a bike.
I want to stay til morning,
To keep with her all night.

I listen for the breathing;
A sign from her eyes;
I want her lips to move and lie,
Only babies cry.

She lay with no reply.
My willow waned and died;

You can't describe a form of God in a rhyme,
Who loves you always and may scold you sometime.

She becomes a finance minister while handling the money.
& she never gives up working either the day is rainy or sunny.

She manages all the difficult situations like a manager.
She has solutions to every problem whether it is minor or major.

She cures our illness & diseases like a doctor,
Sometimes harder and some other time softer.

She is the person who works 24 hours a day & 7 days in a week.
In fact on holidays her work load would reach to the highest peak.

In spite of her so much affection some of us treat her badly.
Still she is so kind-hearted that she loves us madly.

For our bright future she thinks so much and for that she prays everyday,
And for making her feel special why we dedicate only one day?

You'll notice what she does can't be done by any other,
So, from now on just forget everything & give love to your mother.

Today I love you dearly,  you are so special to me.
But how this came about is written in our history.
I remember a chill at night, shivering in my bed.
Then the draft was gone, the blanket tucked and a kiss placed on my forehead.
I was soaked with fever's sweat when a cool sponge touched my arm.  
You stripped me down and cooled my brow and told me I'd come to no harm.
I came home with news of triumph, claiming ten from ten!
You smiled and said " I knew you could! You've made me proud again"
You see, it was the little things that you did every day that made me brim with confidence; to help me find my way.
Now every time I kiss a brow or tuck a child in tight,
I know that I am carrying my mother’s loving light.

my mom found a little *** of dirt in my room,
with a dead plant in it.

she somehow found a little leaf on it, still alive
and green in all its glory.

now, determined to keep it alive and growing,
she waters it every day.

is it true
that peace is only in the absence of war
is it true
that peace is only the sound of a locked door
is it true
that peace is only the time to reload a gun
is it true
that peace is only barren defeat under the sun
is it true
that peace is only a shadow behind a curtain
is it true
that peace is only getting high on a mountain
is it true
that peace is only while we plan our vengeance
is it true
that peace is only a word in a crying sentence
is it true
that peace is only living with our own kind
is it true
that peace is only a flower for a child to find
is it true
that peace is only for those whom we bury
is it true
that peace is only the burden God can carry
is it true
that peace is only for poets and old soldiers
is it true
that peace is only a word for dreamers
is it true
that peace is only for those who are kind
is it true
that peace is only for hearts that are blind
is it true
that peace is only a certain kind of maybe
is it true
that peace is only a mother and her baby