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#mother
a tiny heart is beating. I feel its movements, isn’t it a miracle? I touch my belly, gently rounded, and smile. I hear your heartbeat and I cry— it happens. stories every night. your daddy is so proud of you, little one. one second. name ideas. you begin to imagine life so beautifully. the first day of school. scraped knees. drawings taped to the fridge. a tiny hand wrapped around my finger. but what did I do wrong, sweetheart? 22 weeks and 4 days. terror. where are you, little one? please, don’t leave. why are you listening to them? they tell me you won’t make it. why? how can a world so vast hold a hell so close to me? I’m just a mother. mother. I tell you stories even now. maybe you hear them. maybe you don’t. but I still tell them. and I still keep a place for you inside every dream… so please, don’t leave.
0
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 10:42 AM UTC
The Beginning That Never Was.
They were six, so small, so new, Six little hearts the morning knew. Born just days before the dawn, Soft as whispers, fragile as song. I woke today with gentle cheer, To check on those I held so dear. But waiting there beneath the light, Was a sorrow I could not fight. Three little bunnies, cold and still, Silent now beyond my will. No tiny breaths, no twitching feet, Only silence, harsh and deep. Their mother, young and frightened too, Did not know what she should do. Anxious eyes and restless pace, Fear had settled in her space. Yesterday they hopped with life, Untouched by pain, untouched by strife. I fed them milk with careful hands, Held them close in warm embrace. I checked their warmth, I watched them sleep, Promised silently I'd keep Every tiny life secure, Every little soul endure. Yet one regret remains with me, A weight as heavy as the sea. I left them in their mother's care, Believing they were safest there. Too young herself to understand, How delicate these lives were planned. She raced and jumped from end to end, Not knowing what her steps might send. Whether by panic, fear, or chance, She never saw their final dance. Blinded by emotions wild, She lost three precious little children. I opened up the cage and froze, A grief no heart can truly know. For they had grown so dear to me, Far more than they were meant to be. I cried when they first entered life, Tiny victories against the night. And now those tears returned once more, Harder than they'd been before. I lifted one with trembling hands, Refusing what I could not stand. I searched for signs, for any spark, A single light within the dark. I pressed so softly on his chest, Praying life had merely rest. While tears ran freely down my face, I begged for one more brief embrace. Even now as these words fall, I hear their silence through it all. I touched some water to each mouth, The ancient hope life flows about. I tried my best, I tried it all, To answer death's unyielding call. But they stayed cold within my hands, Beyond the reach of my commands. My poor little ones, my hearts so bright, Gone between one day and night. Three little bunnies, loved so much, Lost beyond my healing touch. Though brief their time beneath the sky, They knew warmth before goodbye. And if love alone could shelter fate, They would still be here today.
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4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 4:28 AM UTC
The Silent Nest
They were six, so small, so new, Six little hearts the morning knew. Born just days before the dawn, Soft as whispers, fragile as song. I woke today with gentle cheer, To check on those I held so dear. But waiting there beneath the light, Was a sorrow I could not fight. Three little bunnies, cold and still, Silent now beyond my will. No tiny breaths, no twitching feet, Only silence, harsh and deep. Their mother, young and frightened too, Did not know what she should do. Anxious eyes and restless pace, Fear had settled in her space. Yesterday they hopped with life, Untouched by pain, untouched by strife. I fed them milk with careful hands, Held them close in warm embrace. I checked their warmth, I watched them sleep, Promised silently I'd keep Every tiny life secure, Every little soul endure. Yet one regret remains with me, A weight as heavy as the sea. I left them in their mother's care, Believing they were safest there. Too young herself to understand, How delicate these lives were planned. She raced and jumped from end to end, Not knowing what her steps might send. Whether by panic, fear, or chance, She never saw their final dance. Blinded by emotions wild, She lost three precious little children. I opened up the cage and froze, A grief no heart can truly know. For they had grown so dear to me, Far more than they were meant to be. I cried when they first entered life, Tiny victories against the night. And now those tears returned once more, Harder than they'd been before. I lifted one with trembling hands, Refusing what I could not stand. I searched for signs, for any spark, A single light within the dark. I pressed so softly on his chest, Praying life had merely rest. While tears ran freely down my face, I begged for one more brief embrace. Even now as these words fall, I hear their silence through it all. I touched some water to each mouth, The ancient hope life flows about. I tried my best, I tried it all, To answer death's unyielding call. But they stayed cold within my hands, Beyond the reach of my commands. My poor little ones, my hearts so bright, Gone between one day and night. Three little bunnies, loved so much, Lost beyond my healing touch. Though brief their time beneath the sky, They knew warmth before goodbye. And if love alone could shelter fate, They would still be here today.
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83
I don't think I have it in me to be a mother, for the same reasons men supposedly can't cry, I cannot muster myself to look at what my face would look like, Post-Partem or sunken by the burn-out of sleepless nights, Coddling a baby I am yet to hold, My mind already holds so many fissures; There's already so many splinters that'll likely stay that way, dug into the grey matter like wooden fragments underneath the layers of skin, I fear the day I break apart in front of them, like my father's done a million times, I cannot muster to look in the mirror and see him instead, as the wailing I created, once my own breath, drills into this hollow skull, I cannot even bare to face my brother, his rumbling coos from a full-grown throat, His world surrounded in childish fantasies, Coddling a baby he's always been, All I've known was noise, Shouting, Hitting, The curling sneer of an angry man, Teaching through fear; a spineless intimidation, as the wailing I listened to, blaring between the ear-aching music, shook the car I just barely lingered in, My mind already holds so many facets, There's already so many voices that'll likely speak in their tones, I know the days we've all barked the same, Snarled at the threat in an infantilized face, Could I bare it? Bear the idea of baring my teeth, towards the child I may one day raise? If I cannot muster the patience, The compassion, The capacity to carry all these burdens the Mother heaves, If I cannot hold back the tightness in this chest, If I cannot repress the sneering hiss, If all I've learned is now instinct, What kind of mother am I?
0
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 5:12 PM UTC
Post-Partem Depression
I don't think I have it in me to be a mother, for the same reasons men supposedly can't cry, I cannot muster myself to look at what my face would look like, Post-Partem or sunken by the burn-out of sleepless nights, Coddling a baby I am yet to hold, My mind already holds so many fissures; There's already so many splinters that'll likely stay that way, dug into the grey matter like wooden fragments underneath the layers of skin, I fear the day I break apart in front of them, like my father's done a million times, I cannot muster to look in the mirror and see him instead, as the wailing I created, once my own breath, drills into this hollow skull, I cannot even bare to face my brother, his rumbling coos from a full-grown throat, His world surrounded in childish fantasies, Coddling a baby he's always been, All I've known was noise, Shouting, Hitting, The curling sneer of an angry man, Teaching through fear; a spineless intimidation, as the wailing I listened to, blaring between the ear-aching music, shook the car I just barely lingered in, My mind already holds so many facets, There's already so many voices that'll likely speak in their tones, I know the days we've all barked the same, Snarled at the threat in an infantilized face, Could I bare it? Bear the idea of baring my teeth, towards the child I may one day raise? If I cannot muster the patience, The compassion, The capacity to carry all these burdens the Mother heaves, If I cannot hold back the tightness in this chest, If I cannot repress the sneering hiss, If all I've learned is now instinct, What kind of mother am I?
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38
The market roared, a sea of voices, dust clinging to her weary face— a lone star against an unyielding sky. No father’s hand to steady her steps, only the fire within, the will to carve a future, to mend the fractures of fate, to gather her children whole. She called out, soft whispers woven with quiet pleas, her hands, though illiterate, grasping the key to a world she longed to know. She dreamed in pages, in letters she could not trace, in knowledge untamed, boundless as the wind. Each book a burden, each book a grace, bought with coins stained in toil, held with reverence, a relic of sacrifice. A blue-bound dictionary—treasure wrenched from hardship, an offering for her child, she who first taught me the rhythm of life in the warm, sanguine recess of her womb. Through years of struggle, through halls of learning, her faith stood, unshaken, unwavering. She listened, she bore my fears, her love, a quiet, steady tide. No comfort claimed, no rest embraced— only the weight of dreams not hers, but mine to carry. And when the title came, etched in scholarly ink, it was hers as much as mine, a monument to all she had given. Tawakalitu Amope— my first haven, my guiding light, the pillar upon which my dreams stood tall. Now silence lingers where her laughter once bloomed, an absence that fills the room with longing. No earthly hunger shall touch you now, no sorrow, no creeping shadow of pain. Only the feast of angels, only the glow of paradise, only rest—finally, softly, completely. Sleep well, Mother. Your love remains, woven into the rhythm of my days, the pulse of my being, the song you first sang to me in the crimson warmth of your womb. © Lanre Adebayo
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May 20
May 20, 2026 at 3:42 PM UTC
The Rhythm of Her Sacrifice
The market roared, a sea of voices, dust clinging to her weary face— a lone star against an unyielding sky. No father’s hand to steady her steps, only the fire within, the will to carve a future, to mend the fractures of fate, to gather her children whole. She called out, soft whispers woven with quiet pleas, her hands, though illiterate, grasping the key to a world she longed to know. She dreamed in pages, in letters she could not trace, in knowledge untamed, boundless as the wind. Each book a burden, each book a grace, bought with coins stained in toil, held with reverence, a relic of sacrifice. A blue-bound dictionary—treasure wrenched from hardship, an offering for her child, she who first taught me the rhythm of life in the warm, sanguine recess of her womb. Through years of struggle, through halls of learning, her faith stood, unshaken, unwavering. She listened, she bore my fears, her love, a quiet, steady tide. No comfort claimed, no rest embraced— only the weight of dreams not hers, but mine to carry. And when the title came, etched in scholarly ink, it was hers as much as mine, a monument to all she had given. Tawakalitu Amope— my first haven, my guiding light, the pillar upon which my dreams stood tall. Now silence lingers where her laughter once bloomed, an absence that fills the room with longing. No earthly hunger shall touch you now, no sorrow, no creeping shadow of pain. Only the feast of angels, only the glow of paradise, only rest—finally, softly, completely. Sleep well, Mother. Your love remains, woven into the rhythm of my days, the pulse of my being, the song you first sang to me in the crimson warmth of your womb. © Lanre Adebayo
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49
SACRED PLACE The Womb: a sacred place, Gifted by God, almighty, inside the women’s body; Where her unborn baby grows: The only Cradle of our comforts! Life and Love together; Flesh and blood shared; The place where God occupies his Initial resting avenue ! Hence, someone who is on a High altitude told women: “Be productive; Possess as much as; and shelter in your womb; the pure shelter ; without any hurt and dirt ! WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
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5d ago
May 28, 2026 at 10:17 PM UTC
SACRED PLACE
Shield of Warmth and laughter Forged by grief and pain Serene ship of alabaster unbothered by battering waves Through wind and storm Against the odds She sails still straight and true If ever you should cross her path The angels have smiled upon you
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May 25
May 25, 2026 at 3:12 AM UTC
Mother
What a plight; The mother wound! Passed from generations, down— Adult bonds are doomed to drown. On this grief I must expound– Hidden currents pull them under; No matter how the daughters swim. Clinging blindly to the brim, Maternal love becomes a blunder. Though the basic needs are met, And crystal clear, the love is there— It waits to trap the coming heir, To inherit the lifelong debt. Trauma ripples, she knows no love, Just the price of strict compliance Trapped in absolute reliance, Driven forward with a shove. Treading waters, dark and vast, Flailing like a drowning fawn. Used and broken as a pawn, Where no empathy has been cast. Finding love is lost at sea, Watching every lifeline drown. Nothing left besides a frown, And an anchor, to break free— Monitoring resilience from afar, The green eyed monster does appear. Her words are masked to hide the jeer, Ensuring there's a lasting scar. Emotionally waterlogged, Forced into absolute restraint. Without a voice to make complaint, The Outward channels remain clogged. Fighting the anchor to stay afloat; The anchor breaks the heavy chain, Casting away the source of bane, To watch the drift of mother's boat. Lifed up by those who rescue Floating on a raft of restoration; A new life enters creation Relearning peace beside the fescue
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May 21
May 21, 2026 at 8:23 PM UTC
The Inherited Anchor
I did not spend those hours in labour I did not make my voice hoarse from screaming I did not feel like every bone in my body was breaking I was not torn open, raw and bleeding To not let that primitive instinct take over the moment my baby was in my arms To not let the rage bubble and overflow the moment someone ignored her cues To not become a wave, a bushfire, a ******* hurricane to shield her Only the people who didn’t protect their babies are the ones who don’t understand.
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May 21
May 21, 2026 at 7:52 AM UTC
A Hurricane
You were a well unto me, Drawing yourself from some unknowable source deep under skin and roots A place we would never see Yet was as reliable as the sun rising. You could set your watch to it That flow of water, of honeyed words and Hot chocolate in the morning And milk at dinner And we drank, And drank And drank But the well never emptied. A child forgets to thank the earth For a well that never runs dry. But, as we grow, We sit under trees whose roots run from the water below, And we are grateful for the shade And we are not thirsty Thanks To the well.
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May 19
May 19, 2026 at 12:40 PM UTC
The well
today the sun came out & it was glorious light sparked your hair its golden glow seared at the edges curls bouncing as you swung higher and higher you giggle staring right into my heart I ask, what are you looking at you, mama and somehow on this brightest day the most radiant light is still your face lighting everything my sunshine girl
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May 18
May 18, 2026 at 10:21 PM UTC
eilley
I wish I didn't have skin, the weight, the discomfort, too tight, too visible. Your scars are lightening up nicely. no. Have you been using the cream I bought? no, no, no. Summers coming up, what will we tell grandma? No, no, no, no, no no! Those will be there on your wedding? NO, NONONONONONONONONNN Please don't call me striped, or say I look like a tiger, or how dark my scars are, or how unsightly, or how they'll impact my future, or ask if I regret it. I regret a lot of things. like ever, telling you.
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May 18
May 18, 2026 at 10:43 AM UTC
She Painted Stars to Cover My Scars
what a vast and wondrous compensation this thing we call poetry is! behind it, i run like a child who has yet to know the world and it never says a word to me about how i should slow down how it approaches me like an ancient mother! and how protective it is, like the father in the nature! if i were to go mad and lose myself with all my strength, at every moment and in every place, forever that would be its way of taking pride in me!
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May 15
May 15, 2026 at 4:22 PM UTC
poetry
It's a letter to my mum, To tell her how miserable, I am. I know you left, Left for good. But I still crave the taste of your food. I know you suffered enough, To get this sleep. But I'm little selfish mum, I too want to sleep. They say I look like you, Talk like you, Behave like you. But how can I tell them, I just need you. They say now you live in me, when I cry, You cry with me. When I laugh, You laugh with me. But I want you to live with me, Not to live in me. This is another letter I'm writing, I know this will never be read. I wish I could cherish you, When we used to cuddle in bed. I know mum, I'm too late, But now I can't, tolerate this weight. I know i deserve it all, But can you please, forgive me for all? You know mum, They hurt your child. Thinking that I don't have my mayi. I know mum, You care for me. So please come back, And save me. You know mum, I'm so broken. No one looks at me, For once. I cry all the night, But no one even, Look at my sight. I know mum, You care for me. So please come back, And save me. Even when I'm burning up, Drowning in the pain for months. No one look at me, For once. Mum, They say I'm acting up. Taking your name, for them to look up. I don't wish they feel the same, Let them be unaware of this pain. You know mum, I can bear it all. Indifference, or taunts they throw. But my heart pierced, at the thought, When they say, I'm the reason, You are gone. Mum i know, You don't blame me, for this. But they all fed, this to me, I'm the reason, You are gone. I'm the reason, You are gone. Mum, I'm sorry, I failed you. You wanted me to live, But I failed you. Just don't hate me, mum. I can bear it all. Just don't hate me, mum, I can survive it all. Mum, I love you the most, But can you please, come home. This home doesn't, Feel the same. As if the walls, Lost their paint. The flowers you had grown, those forget how to bloom. This house feels so empty, So, come back, and fill this home. I'm sorry for the scars, I made. I'm sorry for the trial, I made. I was just tired, mum. I just wanted to be numb. I'm so sorry, Mum. Please take me with you, mum. I'm so tired, to run. Please take me with you, MUM.
0
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 2:31 AM UTC
A Daughter's Plead
It's a letter to my mum, To tell her how miserable, I am. I know you left, Left for good. But I still crave the taste of your food. I know you suffered enough, To get this sleep. But I'm little selfish mum, I too want to sleep. They say I look like you, Talk like you, Behave like you. But how can I tell them, I just need you. They say now you live in me, when I cry, You cry with me. When I laugh, You laugh with me. But I want you to live with me, Not to live in me. This is another letter I'm writing, I know this will never be read. I wish I could cherish you, When we used to cuddle in bed. I know mum, I'm too late, But now I can't, tolerate this weight. I know i deserve it all, But can you please, forgive me for all? You know mum, They hurt your child. Thinking that I don't have my mayi. I know mum, You care for me. So please come back, And save me. You know mum, I'm so broken. No one looks at me, For once. I cry all the night, But no one even, Look at my sight. I know mum, You care for me. So please come back, And save me. Even when I'm burning up, Drowning in the pain for months. No one look at me, For once. Mum, They say I'm acting up. Taking your name, for them to look up. I don't wish they feel the same, Let them be unaware of this pain. You know mum, I can bear it all. Indifference, or taunts they throw. But my heart pierced, at the thought, When they say, I'm the reason, You are gone. Mum i know, You don't blame me, for this. But they all fed, this to me, I'm the reason, You are gone. I'm the reason, You are gone. Mum, I'm sorry, I failed you. You wanted me to live, But I failed you. Just don't hate me, mum. I can bear it all. Just don't hate me, mum, I can survive it all. Mum, I love you the most, But can you please, come home. This home doesn't, Feel the same. As if the walls, Lost their paint. The flowers you had grown, those forget how to bloom. This house feels so empty, So, come back, and fill this home. I'm sorry for the scars, I made. I'm sorry for the trial, I made. I was just tired, mum. I just wanted to be numb. I'm so sorry, Mum. Please take me with you, mum. I'm so tired, to run. Please take me with you, MUM.
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111
bringing out a cake seven years ago today knowing well that it would be her last mother's day making that day go well enough to keep in mind seeing that ball bounce four times on the rim to win
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May 12
May 12, 2026 at 11:06 PM UTC
seven years
You stay with me in light, You stay with me in darkness. You love me when I'm sweet, You love me when I'm not. You care for me when you're happy, You care for me when you're struggling. You apologize when you're wrong, You apologize when you're not. You smile when you're happy, You smile when you're sad. You stand with me when I win, You stand with me when I lose. And if God ever approached me and asked me to choose between Him and you, I wouldn't think for a second before choosing you. He told me that He was you. -v.
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May 12
May 12, 2026 at 4:47 PM UTC
Dear Mother
The tidepool waits, mother moon. You pulled your silver strings too tight. Left me to bake in the sun’s neglect, no current, no cool, no deep of night. You say, “come close, now, child of salt--- let me braid your anemones, count your scars.” But I learned the hunger in a dry rock’s mouth, the prayer of a limpet under empty stars. You raised the wall of barnacle teeth. You taught the urchin how to sting. When I reached for a soft, dark wave of you, you offered low tide’s skeleton thing. Now father sun, you burn my back and wonder why I drift from light. You starved the darkling zone in me--- don’t ask for phosphorescence at midnight. The abyssal plain is made of time. You don’t get to flood it now with heat. You don’t get to call my bioluminescence warm when you left me cold for eighteen years at your feet. So sit, mother moon, on your dry shore. Sit, father sun, in your blazing room. You raised the tide that pulls away. This distance is your own heirloom.
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May 12
May 12, 2026 at 4:24 PM UTC
- The Moon's Silver Noose -
You didn't deserve that. It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You don't have to prove anything. You deserve love. They shouldn't have done that. You weren't stupid, Or childish, Or immature, Or sensitive, Or overly emotional, Or too much. You didn't take things too far. You were a child. You were young. You didn't know better. I cry, They have no idea how long I've waited, For those words. Hands wrap around me, A warm embrace, Telling me everything will be okay. I wipe my tears, And step back, Take my arms from around myself. And stare pathetically, At the mirror.
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May 11
May 11, 2026 at 8:16 PM UTC
No One Is Coming To Save You
you look at me like that and expect me not to shutter. your glare burns through glaciers and pierces through titanium. you glare to all yet it's me who gets the most painful glare you got? i'm down on the ground and see the evil glowing behind your eyes. im down. and still. you. look. down.
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May 11
May 11, 2026 at 2:08 PM UTC
eyes of a thousand spears
Your love lives in strange places in art, in flowers, in the way you always leave the hallway light on like a small moon for me to follow. You stay with me, mother, even with your body aching, even with my persistence, even with the hallway light on, like a small moon for me to follow. You stay with me, And maybe that is the closest thing to holiness I have ever seen.
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May 11
May 11, 2026 at 2:00 PM UTC
Mother
కనులిప్పిన పసికందుకి తొలి పరిచయం.... అమ్మ కుట్రకుతంత్రాలతో అట్టుడుకుతున్న ఈలోకంలో నిష్కల్మష ప్రేమనురాగలకు ప్రతిరూపం... అమ్మ తేనెలొలుకు తియ్యదనాన్ని తన గాత్రంలో నింపుకుని జోలపాడుతున్న అమ్మే మన తొలి గురువు ఓర్పు కి ఓనమాలు నేర్పింది అమ్మ భగవంతుని కరుణకు ప్రతి రూపం తల్లి ప్రేమ పొదుగుల్లోని పసికందుకి ఆమే ఒక రక్షణ కవచం అమ్మ అను పలుకే మృదుమధురం అందుకేనేమో ఏ కష్టంలోనైనా మనసు అప్రయత్నంగా పలికే పదం అమ్మ అదే కష్టాలను దాటించే తారకమంత్రం... అమ్మలు గన్న అమ్మ ముగ్గరమ్మల మూలపుటమ్మ అని స్తుతిస్తేనే ఆ జగజ్జనికి ఎంతో ప్రీతి మరి ఆ జగజ్జనని ప్రతిరూపాలైన మాతృమూర్తులందరికి మాతృదినోత్సవ శుభాకాంక్షలు...
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May 11
May 11, 2026 at 2:34 AM UTC
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కనులిప్పిన పసికందుకి తొలి పరిచయం.... అమ్మ కుట్రకుతంత్రాలతో అట్టుడుకుతున్న ఈలోకంలో నిష్కల్మష ప్రేమనురాగలకు ప్రతిరూపం... అమ్మ తేనెలొలుకు తియ్యదనాన్ని తన గాత్రంలో నింపుకుని జోలపాడుతున్న అమ్మే మన తొలి గురువు ఓర్పు కి ఓనమాలు నేర్పింది అమ్మ భగవంతుని కరుణకు ప్రతి రూపం తల్లి ప్రేమ పొదుగుల్లోని పసికందుకి ఆమే ఒక రక్షణ కవచం అమ్మ అను పలుకే మృదుమధురం అందుకేనేమో ఏ కష్టంలోనైనా మనసు అప్రయత్నంగా పలికే పదం అమ్మ అదే కష్టాలను దాటించే తారకమంత్రం... అమ్మలు గన్న అమ్మ ముగ్గరమ్మల మూలపుటమ్మ అని స్తుతిస్తేనే ఆ జగజ్జనికి ఎంతో ప్రీతి మరి ఆ జగజ్జనని ప్రతిరూపాలైన మాతృమూర్తులందరికి మాతృదినోత్సవ శుభాకాంక్షలు...
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To the women who sacrificed their life To raise the ones who were carried in their bellies Who can be selfish, depressed, children To the women who care for a kid Who isn't even related to them But still becomes the shield of wisdom & spirit To the women who put themselves 2nd So they could see the one they raised run to 1st place And become a little star no matter the circumstance To all the mothers who care and raise kids Who will one day be the next Hollywood star The next Michelin chef The next president We thank you for being there For being our guide on life's tall mountains For being the shelter that cover us from the rain of depression For being the small flame when everything goes dark And even though we push you away And the volcano of anger erupts into distress When children scream at you for feeling hurt You all still care and protect us You wish hope and faith upon us every night You want the best for us And we should be better at being more thankful To the protectors that make life feel softer
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 7:02 PM UTC
The Protectors (Mother's Day Poem)
A journey without you— unimaginable. From my cradle days to my bike, I remember every road— and every ride. You know my poems even before these words came to know me. The images I see— they do not belong to this world, but to the vision you gave me. Oceans, seas, and clouds— a baby knows them from his mother— so shall I. Like every newborn, I too long to cuddle you— the one who, in stories, they called a Night Fairy. Taller trees stand small in front of your strength and energy. My life giver; my synergy. What can I write more— what can I define? I have seen warriors taking a bow in front of your love— no one can decline. You are my verses. You are my rhyme.
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 12:35 PM UTC
You are my rhyme.
I know you didn't ask for this The yelling crying anger hatred I know I've said I hate you many times I know I've caused you pain I know you feel like you failed me But Mother I Love You.
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 8:10 AM UTC
Mother
Your mother called you a fraud, Said you trick woman. And even though they really are, You play the victim. They think you’re something you’re not. Your a curse, They are the victim. You’ve been alive long enough now to know, That this only gets harder, Everyday. more and more. And so you just let it go, Bury it deep. Until you develop a victim complex And I know it must be hard to sleep at night. With these faces in your dreams. Of girls who loved you, And you just threw away. Who is this victim, Them or you? All they want from you is everything. its not that bad of trade. But you don’t pull the trigger, And you lose another. The list get bigger.
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May 10
May 10, 2026 at 3:39 AM UTC
Victim