#praises
Some women give birth.
Some women give you a place to cry without asking why.
And somewhere between burnt toast, night prayers, and tired hands,
the world keeps confusing wombs with motherhood.
A mother is the voice that softens your name after the world weaponizes it,
the hand that checks if you ate while pretending she is not hungry.
She is not always “Mama”—sometimes she is a sister, a grandmother, a neighbor,
a woman folding your pain like laundry no one else would touch.
But no, not all women are mother figures
some are still learning how to mother the child inside themselves.
Some carry gardens; some carry storms; some were never shown tenderness enough to give it.
And maybe being a woman was never meant to mean sacrifice, but choice.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 4:48 PM UTC
When life gets to be too much let our praises become louder
When the battlefield gets to be too hectic let our praises become louder
When we fall to our knees let our praises become louder
When we feel like giving up let our praises become louder
We are louder and stronger then the struggles life throws at us so may our praises become louder
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 8:06 PM UTC
Do not go far to listen to the praises of my heart
Listen to your heart
— the praises come from there —
I am there.
Do not go far by your actions to call me to yourself
Come closer
I am not far from you
By your voice, I shall hear.
—JIBRIL ABDULMALIK ©2019
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 3:25 AM UTC
Sweet lips and kind eyes
I'd sing you all the praises a man can
My Overworked Angel
touch soft and gentle
you radiant being
a feather against my body
warm and gracious is she
perfumed voice
enough to make me bloom
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 2:30 AM UTC
*1
I was inspired by a lovely queen,
Who granted my mind a beautiful scene.
I found this picture in the rose-garden,
This sight disturbed my gaze, without a pardon:
The grayish, flowing smoke is like a curtain,
Who might be behind it? It is uncertain.
It hides perhaps the face of a beauty,
With misty clouds of locks, swinging with glee.
There is a cigarette within the rose!
The gentle breezes carry its thick smoke.
Who put that cigarette who burns at there?
It's strange, but beauty makes it look so fair;
It's in balance to my adoring eyes;
Nature who is pure meets with smoky sighs.
But what about that rose, who is embraced
By smoke? Those leaves have sorrow's taste.
To reflect upon this, that is my task,
So with curiosity I ask:
Why so sad? Your dewy tears are like silver,
How can you be so sad? I am your lover.
Why so sad, dainty flower of the fresh spring?
You are the queen; the nightingale the king.
You are the lip who does talk to my muse!
You are the pink; the rosy 'gainst the blues.
You are the cup with the wine of my love,
Who goes around with the sign of my love.
Your hue appears upon the face of beauty –
Those glows upon your face – they are so rosy!
Some faces look like roses, who don't harden,
As a matter of fact, like fine rose-gardens.
With your brilliant glows they do compare
The beauties of mankind, who're kind and fair.
Your lovely imagery they did overuse
But oh, alas; I am in love with you,
So, it's hard for me to refrain 'bout roses,
That is what my poetic soul proposes.
2: Autumn and Winter
Now let´s turn our attention to the winter
And autumn, where icy breezes saunter.
O beautiful rose, you wait and you wait,
Till this garden becomes a sunny state.
Your stem does wait patiently, asleep,
The sun won't help that time; your slumber's deep.
The rosebud-lips do open up much slower,
Like each and every fresh and fragrant flower.
And that's the way of fleeting, pretty nature,
It can dispirit, it can enrapture.
3: On the Holy Prophet, peace be upon him
I know a Friend, very dear to my soul,
That Rose – without a crime my heart he stole.
With love, to him this piece I dedicate,
The pearly Rose who's in the purest state:
I wish I had rose-leaves to write upon,
To show, to proof to him; for him my love.
So that marks of my writing will release
The scent who lies within the fragrant rose.
While dancing in the air, I will blow it
Towards his direction, from me: a poet.
A poet who loves the rose and loves him,
And loves mankind and more within this dream.*
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
Heto nanaman ako,
binabagtas ang daan papunta sayo.
Nagbabakasakaling makakahanap ng katahimikan mula sa paborito kong pwesto.
Paulit ulit akong pumupunta dito.
Paulit ulit kong sinasambit ang mga salita ko at paulit ulit **** naririnig sakin ang pag susumamo.
Paulit mo ring inaangat ang mukha kong nakalugmok sa aking mga palad
At paulit ulit mo ring pinupunasan ang aking mga pisngi na walang pawis na dumadaloy ngunit mga luha.
Paulit ulit mo rin pinaparamdam sakin ang iyong mga bisig na walang ibang alam gawin kung hindi ang kumalinga.
Ang iyong mga mata na walang ibang alam gawin kung hindi ang maghanap ng nawawala at hindi ng mga wala.
Ang iyong mga tenga na walang sawang makinig sa mga bagay na alam mo na
at hindi sa mga bagay na gusto mo lamang marinig tulad ng iba.
Ilang beses na akong nagdasal,
nagmakaawa,
nakipagpalitan ng mga hiling
pero hindi ka nagsasawang makinig.
Nag aantay ng mga susunod kong hakban kahit alam **** hindi ko pa kaya.
at walang sawang magbigay ng mga gabay na kung madalas ay hindi napapansin dahil may ibang pakay.
Sa pagdami ng iyong bisita alam ko magiging abala ka sakanila
ngunit alam ko na ang aking dasal ay meron pa rin namang puwang sa iyong tenga.
Sa araw na ito hindi ka mapapagod magpunas ng mga luha ko.
Maglapat ng ulo ko sayong balikat.
Makinig sa walang sawa kong mga hinaing.
Dahil sa mga oras na to,
Walang ibang laman ang aking puso kung hindi tula at papuri para sayo.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
i could be told a worldwide amount of praises
and then be gifted a lifetime of abraises
feeling nearly the same throughout my phases
learning how to collocate the right phrases
i'm prolific in procrastination
hence becoming the opposite of a cation
i hope i can acquire an alsatian
to make me stable
there's no telling
when i will be able
to suffice
and be looked at like gneiss
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
She who praises me
Praises me well
Sometimes she Pampers me
Sometimes makes me feel like hell
She who praises me
Is one of a kind
Though chiseled beauty she got
She also have a mind
She who praises me
Is herself well known
Still she behaves like
Her attitude is long gone
She who praises me
Cries on what not
Then I make jokes on her
And she laughs a lot
She who praises me
Praises through her core
As she encourages me
I want to write more
She who praises me
Is not my significant other
Sometimes she be my best friend
And sometimes my mother
She who praises me
I cannot thank you more
But I'll have a corner for you
That is for sure
I wish you all the happiness
in your life
The man will be so lucky
Who will have you as his wife
Never mind I'll keep writing ****
That's from my side
And this is it…...
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
Praises and flattery
works their magic once
then they start becoming
annoying
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 5:49 AM UTC
While I crawled in the arms of my tender sleep,
Having said a little prayer,
Dreaming of reality's dread.
Mama stayed awake trying to let you out.
Sweating and fighting all the pain and strains,
And hoping you would be out soon.
Daddy kept saying little prayers and signing songs of praise in his heart.
He awaited for your arrival,
It was soon enough until you surfaced the earth.
They both couldn't wait to have you in the palm of their hands
And see your sparkling eyes open up to reality's dread.
But do not worry you little one,
For we are all here for you.
To protect you from the devouring spirits,
And every other wicked spiritual realm;
Rock of Victory youth will never let you sobber in pain in our site,
Nor let any bully bring down your flaws.
We are willing to support you all the time.
Mommy and Daddy will always keep you happy,
And they will never leave you behind.
They will groom you to be mommy and daddy's little girl.
They shall always keep you warm in the dark,
And in comfort during the storms.
The Lord shall become your refuge and your strength,
He will shower you with blessings,
An pour his wisdom upon you.
He shall lead you into the narrow gates,
And forever shall he be your fortress.
Our deep breaths we have been holding for too long have been released into the thin air.
And from them we have found an atmosphere of celebration.
With little words to describe my happiness,
I am so greatful to be amongst those to celebrate the gift of life that God has presented to you.
Nolwazi J Mabilisi®
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
I want to follow.
So I can lead.
So I can encourage.
So I can
breathe
and show the way
to the breath of life.
But the words
seem hollow
and my works
are like the products of inept inventors
falling apart before inception.
They tumble from my mouth
and rattle through my brain
never reaching my hands and feet.
My heart
still healing
sometimes flutters with doubt.
I try to shut it out....
but, God, please!
I'm not asking for easy
for less pain
or more progress.
God, I just want to know you.
Don't let my sometimes hollow
plea to follow
betray my plodding feet...
If I should stumble,
let me stand again!
With you, I can.
My life,
so short,
so miniscule,
but not meaningless.
Your plan is too complex;
the jigsaw of your perfect work
the infinitesimal steps
leading
one by seeming insignificant one
to the final future for us all
where we will bow before you!
Crying out praises!
Singing Hallelujah!
Let me be that small part you have for me.
I want to follow.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC