Mama, this is your black sheep
In this life that you have given me
There is sadness and misery
I can hear you whispering prayers for me
But I can also see you very clearly
Deeply regretting giving birth to me

Mother, this is your wayward baby
I’m sorry that you can’t understand me
The state of my hair or the clothes I wear
The fact that I’m never really there
“Always living life without care” you said
But I swear I’m better off elsewhere

Birth giver, this is your son of a gun
Your boyfriend has always made me feel
Unwelcome and emotionally numb
I left home so you don’t have to sleep alone
But since then my heart has turned to stone
And my mommy issues are starting to show

A mother sits on the edge
of a hospital bed with her
baby daughter lying on her lap.

The air throughout the hospital
is suffocating, stifling with the
stench of filth and death.

The walls amplify and echo the
anguish of women and children,
and jets fly somewhere overhead.

But she tries to sing a lullaby
through her parched throat
beneath her grubby niqāb. The skin
and bones that make her frame
cannot sway the child for comfort.

She cannot feed her; even if her
******* could provide sustenance,
the child’s sickness would puke it
back up. She craves to cry for God
to spare her little one, but her
bloodshot, sunken eyes no longer
produce tears. All she can offer is
her lullaby, the same one she sang
to all her children. All that remains
of them and their father are fragments,
scattered throughout dirt and debris,
blown to bits a week ago by a blast
in her village. When the only one left
became sick, she started the trek to
the nearest hospital. The journey
greeted her with dust and unbearable
heat, with the agony of an empty
stomach, with a child in misery and
excreting white diarrhea. And when
she finally reached the hospital, the
doctors could not provide treatment.

The disease had progressed too far,
and they did not have the means to
save her daughter. So she sits on a
hospice bed, surrounded by other
sickly and starving bodies, singing a
lullaby. Soon the child closes her eyes
and stops breathing, a thick white
drool leaking down her cheek. Her
mother wipes it away.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

The one who brought me down to earth
And held me close every day
The one who gave me birth
And loves me in every way
She taught me everything
Like how to crawl and walk
She guided me to sing
After learning how to talk
She is always  there for me
Just talking to her can make me happy
She tells me of the hard times she's been through
hoping that I won't go through them too
This poem is crafted for you, mom
Because I want this poem to be
My means of showing you
How much you mean to me

Once, when my garden lay bare, I stood and stared, so sad
So sad inside, where loves resides, and needs to flourish glad

I found the good, then understood, the whole is built of parts
And, if so true, then something new, was needed in this heart

Around the soil I gently toiled, and saw the wasted rain
The empty sight of black and white, where no colours remain

And set my mind, to try to find, the undiscovered whole
That secret thing, that gives man wings, and completion for his soul

I would tend, this garden friend, and cultivate with zeal
To craft anew, and see it through, make something that is real

So set about, with cry and shout, and prepared my heart and ground
Gave strength to earth, and joy to birth, and planted all around

And soon my seeds were growing free, and pushing up to light
Their little tops, a wondrous crop, were dazzling to my sight

Oh there was pain, when in cruel rain, my flesh was bruised and hurt
And the heat of day did I dismay, yet did remain alert

And while they grew, I hacked and hewed, at weeds that tried to choke
Laboured and fought, till my flesh was taught, until I almost broke

For all new plants have needs, demands, and must the shade soon seek
I stretched and leaned, so they could glean, in my shadow, but left me weak

And finally, the red and green, the gold and shades of blue
Oh breathless was my frame that day, as I beheld these buds anew

They changed and climbed, and painted time, and lit the soil below
And filled the air with song and prayer, and joy I'd never known

And the sun now shone down upon, my saplings bright and soft
I glanced at the dance of their spiral ascent, as they sought the sky aloft

Now my sun had cause to shine, my rain a need to fall
For in the soil of my love and toil, three flowers now stood tall

Three blooms of peace, were now released, to fill my life with hope
And enrich my days, and light my way, when meaning seemed remote

The first was gold, bright to behold, it stood against the sky
It's stem so proud, it's petals loud, they seemed like they could fly

As sunflower climbed, I felt it's sigh, as parasites tore it's flesh
Yet not in vain, it bent and swayed, and gave shelter to the rest

My strongest flower, this giant tower, reaches for the sun
It's face ablaze, yet still afraid, to search for the sowing one

And by it's side, I saw arrive, a different kind of bloom
One that grew, but then withdrew, then sprouted much too soon

A crimson rose, with zeal it grows, and soaks nutrients around
It rambles wild, yet trembles mild, when winter comes around

So full of glee, yet, solitary, it's thorns keep all at bay
Climbing alone, it's joy undone, beauty hidden in the day

Last of all, grown in the fall, a pretty white sweet pea
With slender leaves it grows and breathes, and needs some company

Soft right through, yet determined true, it's fragrance fills the air
And though subdued and unassumed, it's innocence it shares

This little sprite, rare and contrite, embellishes the scene
Yet craves no space, just embrace, to know it has been seen

As I stood still, in the Autumn chill, and surveyed this garden wide
I trembled deep, began to weep, at neglect I caused by pride

For here I see my beloved three, these flowers of my love
Their seeds anew, they now flung true, and caught the therms above

I watched them climb, and swirl in time, taken up with ease
And knew my hopes would gently float, with their seed upon the breeze

Now my garden is complete, and I can cease to till
Because my precious flowers three have now my life fulfilled

And I if I did hide regrets inside, 'twas that I stayed away
And lost the sight of seedlings flight, as they embraced the day

I could have, should have poured out more, more rain of love on them
Wish I had knelt and so near them dwelt, and learned to be their friend

For tree, sky and ocean blue, have not moved me so much
As my dearest blossoms, young and good, with their loving gentle touch

And though one day, they will fly away, I will be sad and yet
To have shared my life with them, I declare, no regrets, no regrets, no regrets

don’t you know how much I
love you I love you I
only want what I
think is best
for you I
really do know best I
will take care of everything honey I
promise you I
just want you to be happy I
just want you to behave

I have been a pilot and a doctor, and a chieftain, I've run a café and a veg stall and a shop
Discovered forests down the road, and caught a magic toad, and stormed the castle high upon the mountains top
I've walked about on Mars, flown a rocket to the stars, and been to places that are yet unknown to men
And just to cap it all, to amaze you, and enthral, I did all that before I was even ten

There are no boundaries for young minds, no comprehension of time, they are eager to explore this fun-filled place
Kids are free and are unshackled, from the first shake of their rattle, they refuse to run with rats in our sad race
I grew up with simple toys, simple pleasures, simple joys, yet life was then so full and so untouched
Not ashamed of mummy's hand, or a bucket in the sand, we had so little yet, we really had so much

We grazed our knees and ruined our clothes, raced around on tippy-toes, and turned a mangy dog into our bestest friend
We camped out, we camped in, went too high upon the swing, yet we never thought the fun would ever end
Daddy's voice was law, mummy's whack was sore, and being grounded was so harsh and was so tough
But we knew that we were safe, and we knew we were secure, and we really knew our home was full of love

Children were children and grown ups were grown ups, and teenagers were somewhere in between
Bad things were small, like the punctured old beach ball, or the sadness of a melted ice-cream
Park-keepers were alert, and everything actually worked, and if we hurt ourselves, mum didn't want to sue
She would kiss it where it was sore, cuddle us some more, then we'd be off and start our climbing up anew

A boy's first kiss was his mum, and love was bubble-gum, and his first crush was simply lemon or lime
Girls were chased but never kissed, cause you deliberately missed, and names could only hurt you if they rhymed
Little girls dressed in mum's shoes, and didn't get the blues, and they'd only dance in front of cuddly toys
They loved dolls and Winnie-Pooh, playing bubbles with shampoo, and they had no time for silly things like boys

Batman was always kind, and it would never cross his mind, to **** a villain, or ever break the law
You'd always be polite, always kiss your mum goodnight, and you'd always leave your cabbage for the poor
To be gay was to be glad, being bad meant simply bad, and there was no such thing as being overfed
Phones were just pretend, and your dog was your best friend, to protect you from the troll under your bed

But this world is ever changing, with more stress and much more danger, and the children must adapt or they will fail
Where once our kids were shy, and pleasing to the eye, we are now forced to grab a tiger by the tail
Like the trickle of the stone, before the mountain crashes down, life is gaining speed at an alarming rate
They are pushed and are in pain, carry guilt and carry blame, and there is no one to shield them from their fate

Home alone, and alone away, taught how to text but not to play, they just exist within their messed up little world
Forced to survive and take the knocks, always governed by the clock, too soon they are men and women, not boys and girls
Good and bad are now retired, you can do what you desire, it's no longer sin, but a life choice for childrenkind
And is there's a price to pay for this new fun, and for looking at the sun, there's always credit, which is far off (in their mind)

Goblins and trolls have become vampires and ghouls, and Batman is a nasty growling man
The train set is no longer cool. Its trains and stations are for fools, Playstation is now the thing that makes the man
Advice comes from the web, or magazines instead, because these sources have all the answers we need to know
Goodbye to picnics, sandcastles, parks, finger-puppets in the dark, these simple joys our children now let go

Today the little ones know too much, and their knowledge is that such, they are aware of all that mum and dad now do
The facts of life, thanks to the web, terrorism's dread, ***, carcinomas and Avian Flu
Immersed in the occult, and books that teach how to insult, they spend more time with gadgets than they do with humankind
The things they watch would scare grown-ups, the door to innocence is shut, while their music feeds the anger of the mind

“No” is spoken, never heard, simple manners never learned, “Love thy neighbour” is replaced by “dog eat dog”
But they are children, not our pets, they need to love, and not regret, and they need to find the time to think of God
Like arrows that are aimed, we can steer them through life's game, to ensure they find the target that they need
That of happiness and hope, take their hand, don't let them *****, and we may yet behold the day when they are free

So enjoy their childhood years, feed the ducks, and not their fears, and if they've gone too far, help them to rewind
Let them skip, let them skate, let them even lick their plate, and the memories will be forever in your mind
And before you do regret, and your little ones forget, and this life comes and sweeps them from your door
Give them back their childish ways, and keep the world at bay, and let the children just be children once more

A mother's love
Can take many forms:

It can be the water
So blue
Cooling you, on a hot day.

It can be the little green five
You "randomly" find
in your pocket.

It could even be the "luck"
Of catching the soft white bundle
At a wedding.

A mother's love
Can be lifetimes long...