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She is the incarnation of true love
The love that is enigmatic!
She is every beats of my heart
The heart which is abundant with her love
She is the soul to my body
The body which she prudent with her love and care
She is the mentor of my life
The life where she immersed me with euphoria
She is the light of my darkness
The light of hope and encouragement
Her qualities are beyond the horizon
She loves me to the eternity, so do I

I will love her every bit,
But it saddens me that even if I give all my  love to her it will always be a shortcoming.
Because her love for me is enigmatic !!

But  still "oh dear mother I love thee!!"
A love that is inexplicable!☺
Every time I sacrifice my happiness
And devote myself entirely
Just to bring a grin on your little face
I realise,
The sacrifices my mother made
Were prodigious as compared to all I do for you.
The realization of my ‘self-sacrifice’,
Took me back to the days when your sacrifices meant nothing to me
And I hold deep remorse, mother.
It’s now that I know,
Sacrifices are what you made
Adjustments are what I’ve ever managed to do.
Blackenedfigs May 10
Golden Strands
of hair glisten
like honey

Soft, solace scent
of an old home

Goose feather pillows
Blue veins disguised
inside cautious hands

Embrace me, radiate warmth
And with the utmost careful placement
of glasses on her nightstand

once again.
For Mother’s Day.
Lainey May 10
We once were walking hand in hand when you said quietly:
“Here I am accepted, I am loved for me”.
I’ll never lose that moment,  for always it rings true;
you are cherished, you are loved for simply being you.
You sure do make it easy, for every day you show your love; support and loyalty through happy times and woe!
Your calm yet strong willed presence helps us keep our grounding and in return we hope you feel our endless love abounding!
So let me take you by the hand and say it evermore,
Mum you are so special, precious and adored!
Vanessa Apr 23
People say home is a wooded structure,
Is a flesh being,
Is my mother's arms,
Is running, crashing into her form with mine, inhaling a deep breath of her sweet scent,
Is hearing her heartbeat, the comfortable silence, only the sound of breaths being exchanged,
Is when i'm with her.

-a homesick soul
Ashley Feb 7
Black as night
Light as day
Midnight to love
Hope to pray

What is this world?
A child might ask
For living is hard;
A mighty task.

Eyes shining with hope
The child waits
For a mother can’t tell
What she hates

She just hugs
And pats his head
As his eyes close
And he lay still on the bed.

Her tears lay
By his side
For he reached
Where the shadows hide.
Arya Dec 2019
A mother is a failure in mathematics.

The child gives only half

she gives double .
Couldn't help but share it
EastWind Aug 2019
A mother's touch will never be cold,
and will always be warm.
Her scent as you hug her,
her voice as she sang to you
You'll never forget.

And she'll never forget,
the first time she held you,
the first word you spoke,
the first steps you took.

She'll be there to calm you,
bring you warmth and light
when the world is too cruel
when your world darkens.

But there will always be a day
where she forgets
but her heart won't,
Because you'll be there to remind her,
return the warmth that she gave you,
the light,
stories and love.

All of this she taught you,
because she loves you.
My mom will always be the center of my love.
Sitting in wait in a silent room,
glaring at a bright screen alone,
Wondering will you return my message?
I've always longed for what you hide,
even the things that have haunted you inside,
we're family after all; I could forgive your secrets.
Rummaging for a name never heard before,
maybe what you know will make us sore,
break our hearts in two or more,
so maybe it's a good idea you leave it vacant,
delete it all and don't call,
do what you have done best,
and just let me fall,
I’ve come to learn how to pick up the pieces.
However, there’s someone who’s always been conjointly alike,
Never been a doubt I couldn’t count on her time,
I fear the day she sheds her skin,
For that day we lose a mixture of strength and compassion,
For that woman is mother and father,
For she the hybrid we see all too often,
that can't be replaced by your presence belatedly,
for after she’s gone,
even if I had what was left of your absence,
she you could never replace,
because she knew from the start,
what had significance right away.
a poem to my mother. Who was a single mother. Even though I know my father now. Being 32 and knowing him for 8 years will never match what my mother did for us.
Regina Fable May 2019
another hull breach
most of her fortune slips away
suckled by the undercurrent
her shanties are bottlenecked messages
entangled in self-accusation
listing through distress and tide
she flags toward more sympathetic waters

love is the bright iris of balmy weather
a ballast for threadbare optimism
she makes berth in tiny lips
that pardon her insufficiency
emptiness, a welcome refuge
projected under the twinkle of satisfaction
mirroring devotion
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