Hello Poetry raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.
If you're into poetry and people who're into poetry, join the community to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Hello Poetry raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.
If you're into poetry and people who're into poetry, join the community to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Prithvi 13h
When the world pinpoints every Flaw,
Destroying every ounce of Ambition,
She thwarts every judgement with Guffaw,
Rekindling a fire within like a Magician.

An abundance of delightful Cuisines,
Lights, music, what an Atmosphere,
Unmatched to the simplicity of her Beans,
No ambiance, yet so Dear.

A global footprint to Parade,
Mountains, beaches, what’s the next Place?
Sleepless until safety was Conveyed,
Her world residing in merely a Face.

Conquering every assignment, a solo Star,
Virtues unparalleled, is she Human ?
An infinite Heart, almost Bizarre,
A MOTHER or a living Superwoman.
I really think if you told your mom
You would be surprised
I hope the surprise is that she’s there for you
And that she finds the right words
Because she’s your mom
And if the surprise is hurtful
Remember the words you told me once
She may be grieving
Not because she is disappointed
But because she didn’t know
Because she doesn’t really know what it all means
Because she couldn’t find the right words at the right time
But more importantly,
Because she was the last to know
Mothers don’t like to be the last to know
We were once the first to see everything
Then we were demoted
Yet we saw more then we got credit for
Now that our children are grown and gone
It’s different
We rely on tidbits, small talk, holiday visits, sibling rumors
Mothers are often the last to know
But no matter what
And no matter how we react
When we are finally told
Or if we are never told
Every secret
Every heartbreak
Every silly encounter
A mother’s love is so strong
Our love is forever
I really think if you told your mom
You would be surprised
My father used to bring home kites
from Pakistan,
made out of colorful paper
and thin sticks.

Mine was pink and blue,
and caught my eye as soon
as it was taken out.
It was beautiful,
and i imagined it soaring through
the skies,
viewable from all the houses in town.

The yarn was grey,
and had minuscule shards of glass
woven within it.
My father told me that it was for kite fighting,
the way they used to do it from the rooftops
of the villages.

One would fly the kite
and the other would be in charge of the spool.
Together, they would change altitudes
and attempt to cut other kite strings.
The last kite left in the air would be the winner.

And my mind would run to those rooftops,
the very sand ridden rooftops he had described.
Imaginarily controlling the kite
with a friend handling the spool behind me.
Together winning the kite fighter crown,
and my father being proud of his only son.

All while i lay in bed,
with a grand imagination,
and not a single clue
on how to make the last thought a reality.
I asked my mother once,
What would you have done if I was born a girl?

She offered a name she considered,
but not the blessing—-
not the consideration that maybe,
just maybe,

I wasn’t supposed to be
quite like this.
I have no conscious memory of it
that catastrophic event planted
in my nascent childhood
ripping apart a partnership
of 15 years of wedded teamwork

When a parent outlives their daughter
given a meagre 4 years of life
halved to 24 months of good health
then 104 weeks of faltering steps
to an inevitable child size coffin
there is no prescription for grief

One route is a faithful acceptance
that God has called her early
a sinless life so straight to heaven
an earthly life evolving to spirituality
this journey taken by the mother

An alternative road leaves that faith
a belief in God destroyed by pain
tearing away layers of investment
in a religion now viewed as unworthy
to allow cancer to kill his innocent girl
this cherub whom he gently rocked
to sleep from birth to her final breath
a journey taken by the father

After a period of reconcilliation
the roads of faith with and without
were taken in a simultaneous pact
to run side by side divided by a church
but a marriage strong enough to survive

I was subconsciously damaged
my sister ailed in my first 2 years
a tender emotionally bruised toddler
became a sensitive, fragile adult
phobic of illness and mortality
writing eased my fears and tears
a poetic epiphany in a life of struggle
mine is a journey of a faith in love
on a road littered with words
Keeping the spirit and memory of my sister alive
I cannot drink the milk anymore
And I don’t remember it’s taste.
Memories coagulate together,
But only in my mind.

I think it hurts them
Remembering the bright-eyes
And seeing their friends have babies.

She once said she missed
My silent days
And I think she really missed the days
That made things easy.

Why do I feel guilty
When put at the mercy of time’s
Arrow?

I think it hurts them.
mh Sep 6
the closer you pull me,
the farther i drift away.

if you just let me go,
i'll come back to you someday.
Woke up from my dreaming to a nightmare, she was screaming
Got back to the car the radio sang about my demons
I hate heathens, singing along for no reason
As she slams the door behind me
Revenge is open season

5 days in I look like you
Broken glass back pain
Rum stains on my shoes
Redoing old never feels new
Only see myself in a car mirror view

I want her in my windshield
I want her name on my screen
Any source of affection puts worth into screams
A honk has no emotion
My notions are bleeding
Feeding on desire, I hit the gas
Before my house catches fire

Her words were knives, dipped in lies
I realize theres no easy way
I "Take a break from all my sinning"
But God made me gay

Screams turned to silence
Caution escaped violence
My bed never felt so wrong
When I left my demons in song
I long for my steering wheel
I feel I have to stop admitting
Can't help that I'm forgiving
I named my car twister
I call this twisted living
AditiBoo Sep 4
You want some more truth

Well, let me yell it off the top of your roof


I'm not a bully, I'm not a fighter

I just won't stand for ignorance and a bad temper

She's not your girl, she ain't even your friend

So stop staring if our tastebuds wish to blend

I'm not ashamed, I'm actually very proud

I'm gay and I'll say it out loud

...



But mother doesn't know

And father a fit would throw

Am I really that proud?

Because there's no echo to my loud..


I'm still a little girl

Lost in this big old world

I'm still a little bit confused

Why is my sexuality being refused?

...



This girl of mine, I love her to death

I whisper her name with every breath

I hold her hand and kiss her neck

Grab her waist and on her lips place a peck


Her curves blow me away

Her smile leads me astray

She dazzles, she sparkles, she makes me happy

Because most of all, she loves me



But mother doesn't know

And father a fit would throw

...

But I love her so

And I love them so
Next page