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Simon Soane Jan 2018
Chatting with you
is a special delight,
you could turn dark rooms free
with your splendid bright.
Inga M Jan 2018
she knows it the best
for life has taught her
whatever you do
whenever you do it
do not question it
move with it
face it
do it
advice from my mother
Salmabanu Hatim Jan 2018
He was a bachelor,
A free soul without bother.
He comes home from work,wan,
The house is ***** and span,
Every thing is perfectly placed,
The table,with food laid,
His pyjamas neatly piled on the bed,
That is the maid.

He gets married,
He comes home tired,
A little clutter here and there,
But the bedroom is done with care.
There is soft music, perfumed candles and flowers,
Romantic nights for lovers,
For dinner,mostly takeaways and leftovers.

They have children, three,
He comes home, weary,
There is chaos,
The house is a  mess,
Children are crying and shouting,
The dog is  barking,
The wife is howling and screaming,
Before she starts complaining,
He takes over the  kitchen,
Tells  her to see to the children,
For, household chores,
She abhors.

The wife and kids go to her mother,
Home is quiet, no clutter,
For a while mum has come to stay,
Once again hot meals everyday,
The house is warm and clean,
He only has to see to the bin.
Mum is the best,
But he misses his wife and kids nevertheless.
Though there are ups and down in his married life he has adjusted and loves his family.
Paul Butters Jan 2018
I wish I could say something good
About growing old and dying.
For sixty years I had a great relationship
With Mum,
But then that demon Dementia brought her
Living Death.

She thought in the end I’d
Betrayed her,
“Allowing her to be put in a home”.
And then, to rub it in,
She was allegedly abused and badly bruised
By evil members of staff.
Mum passed away
Two months later.
The last time I saw her
She was waiting to be taken to the loo
As I was ushered out.

We all grow old,
Gradually fading away,
Tormented by Diabetes, hypertension
And strokes.
Full of arthritis
And gammy knees.

The list of ills goes on,
No proverbial light at the end
Of the tunnel.

So all I can say is live for
Now.

Make the most of our Share of Time.
Take comfort in passing on the baton
To the likes of Jacob
My great nephew.
Teach him and his peers
As well as we can
To take care of The Earth
A **** sight better
Than we have.

Try to Improve ourselves,
Keep growing
Every single day.
Keep learning
Experiencing
Living
As long as we can.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\1\2018.
Trying. Mum actually died on the 12th December 2013 but it still hurts. I've waited a long time to mention it. Last time I saw her alive she was waiting to be escorted to the loo of all things. Indeed I have now added these details to the actual poem.
Simon Soane Jan 2018
At all sketches a dab hand,
the touch of deft
drawing safe land.
Salmabanu Hatim Jan 2018
I lovingly caressed its top,
Tenderly held it in my finger,
Quickly lit its bottom,
And inhaled longingly.
Slowly, my tension receded,
As I blew rings in the air,
Puff after puff after puff.
There was a knock on the door,
Quickly, I sprayed air freshener,
Opened the windows,
Slipped a chewing gum in my mouth.
It was mum,the same nag,nag,nag ....
I smiled and listened,
The special  cigarette  had stimulated me.
My mum was a nag.She went on and on without stopping.We never had peace at home and a cigaretted revived me
joel jokonia Oct 2017
i guess i do like the pain
cause i laugh after its done
how crazy it was
that my mum actually bit me
no like true story my mum bit me

you might think she is abusive
but i like her character art is impressive
she turns totally off reason
keeps her senses imprisoned

i tried to explain
but the rage rain rained upon me
all she wanted was to stroke me
i swear i lose my mum in that moment
cause i try look in her eyes and she nowhere near

she strokes me and unknowingly i hold her shambok in my hand
i stare at her to understand
but all it does it highs her temper
now she is pulling her shambok a little stronger
i try to talk but she is trying to pull
she cant listen
and she plays victim

the struggle continues
i watch her anger elevate and it fascinates me, weirdly
so i resist a little more
she starts pulling me to the kitchen
now the scene has more attention

pulling out drawers
trying to put hand on anything pain inflicting
and still i am resisting

made it to the door and out
her voice a bit loud
realising that whatever i try will not demotivate her
so i gave up and let her, as usual
let her stroke me to her satisfaction
and goes on and on
about me being stubborn because i am older
how i think i am stronger cause i am a man
man, whats wrong with mum

she strokes me with her shambok still
as i stood still
amused by her accusations
but am patient and let her

after she done she is angry still but satisfied though
now her eyes glow
she tries to conceal it by playing anger
i smile
it took me a while to understand, while
she was in her act
i had travelled mindlessly in my mind
thinking how a silly situation
of her calling me and me not responding
had become a series of chaos

little packages do become dynamites
this is what bothers me though
i do have a thrill everytime we have a misunderstanding
i dont understand this
i guess i am just my mother's child
my mum sometimes
Seema Oct 2017
Right now, I feel at ease
While sitting in the breeze
With the smell of fresh ground spice
I am getting this irritating sneeze

Right now, I wonder what's mum cooking
A set menu or making a lunch booking
Peeping through the kitchen window
Mum's busy kneading the dough

Right now, you entered my mind
My heart dazzle and my eyes roam to find
You hiding around, as I've seen
My beautiful sister, my identical twin...


©sim
This is fiction. I don't have a twin.
Lara Oct 2017
When I was 13,
I swallowed a fly.
It was an accident.
I was scared the fly would eat my brains.
So I ran to my mum
and told her I needed a doctor.
She didn't believe me.
And so the fly ****** the blood out of my brains.
And all my feelings became numb.

l.t.
Simon Soane Oct 2017
Blatantly
you say,
with typical
forthright
knowing
wonder,
I love you,
& I,
trying to gather my thoughts
say,
without the weight of thinking;
I love you too,
when I wanted summer
you made my sky blue.
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