"motherliness" poems
Wait before you start thinking,
You should wait and complete this reading,
Can it not be a tool for worshiping?
Inspiring idols of deities like Durgā,
You feel so cared for by their motherliness,
Can you otherwise visualise an imaginary God?
Teachings from the idols of Saraswati,
You get connected to a Goddess's wisdom,
Where else you'd rather gain blessings from?
Wealth from the idols of Lakshmi,
You gain financial security & confidence,
Or is imagining a formless promoter God easy?
Cutest idols of deities like Gaņeshã,
You will love a naughty deity Bãl Krshņã,
Why should you not use idols for worshiping?
Mature idols of deities like Šiva,
You would feel them bestowing their calm,
Should it not be fun visualising them?
Statues are made with dedicated love,
They all invite such respectful admiration,
How would you ever feel the hatred?
I am aware that none of these idols is God,
Neither stones nor pictures can be Gods.
But what bad is a peaceful polytheism?
Do not please be jealous of their art,
And do not hate idol worshipers.
Feel confident and so peaceful,
Try worshiping stone idols.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
Gently you patted my cheek,
with a tenderness piquant,
not known hitherto to us both.
Those quivering long fingers
exude motherliness,I miss ever after,
my mom has gone to her last pilgrimage,
And I crave for at moments of pain intense.
From the layers of memory darkened
by distance,I recover that feeling,
to place you instantly at a level higher,
than that of a sultry lover to whom
desire than anything higher binds together.
In to my lackluster eyes, you peer,
see the ineptly hidden drop of tear,
in the corner shivering plaintively
before rolling down to lose forever,
it's in the memory of my mother,
who rhythmically tapped my back,
led me to the cozy cloud of sleep,
when outside raged the rain storm,
I now gather, to a women I owe
when, time after time she takes
another avatar, of my mother,
momentarily, at times,when earth slips,
from under the feet
unexpectedly.
You did see the storm raging
inside and the child looking for solace.
You hold me close to your *****
and I travel to a world gone by again
even when wolves howl refusing to sleep.
and let me doze off to wake up in another world!
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
Janette Richie
didn’t like you much
as was shown
that time
in Mr Finn’s class
when she slapped
your face
for something you’d said
leaving you
with a spinning head
and a red cheek
but that aside
and her rather
plump frame
and maybe spectacles
you kind of like
her motherliness
the bossiness
around the class
the way she walked
the wiggly ***
but whatever it was
you’d said to her
to invite the slap
it was just a string
of words carrying
no malice or meaning
to hurt and the sensation
of her hand of flesh
touching your
young boy’s cheek
a nearness
she hadn’t thought on
or given any deeper
probe than the desire
to swipe an annoying boy
not realizing
that the gesture
and the plump hand
landing had more
than a momentary
feel or touch
you there after kind of
liked her in your
secret way
never repeating
the words said
about her plumpish
frame or swaying ***
or the spectacles
of thick glass
and maybe the other
boys laughed
and thought it some
joke of misjudgement
on your part
but you found
a secret place for her
in your nine year old
heart.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
Who would contradict the affection of a mother?
She who endeavored to bestow us the breath of existence;
Intensely compassionate in personality they are.
Secures us and therefore forms our defense.
Who else can obtain and sustain the duty of a sister?
She who happens to be our emotional support;
Sensible in intellect and gentle in action they are.
Guides us and therefore on no account lets us abort.
Who would constantly be dependable like a wife?
She who makes it crucial to fulfill our needs at any rate;
Gorgeous in qualities and remains beside us for our entire life,
Idolizes us and therefore desires us to be her soul mate.
Who else can be more valuable than a daughter?
She who sacrifices for the advantages of her family;
Garnished with essence of motherliness and heals our scar.
They are overflowing with responsibilities to an extreme degree.
Women stay as the most significant person in our life and soul,
And build an effort to facilitate us to accomplish our goal.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
Milka was in a mood
as we left the farmhouse
and got on our bicycles.
What's up?
I said.
It's her
(meaning her mother)
having a go
at me about
coming downstairs
in my nightie,
and in front
of you as well,
how was I to know
you were there?
Milka said,
looking back
at the farmhouse.
It's how she is,
likes things done so so,
I said.
How do you know
what she's like,
you only see
the side she
wants you to see,
Milka said,
being all nice to you,
just because
you're young
and good looking,
I bet she fancies you.
Don't be daft,
I said,
she's your mum
not a woman
up the road.
Milka stood
gazing at me:
you fancy her
don't you?
You'd have *** with her
if she let you,
Milka said coldly.
That's stupid,
of course I wouldn't,
I replied.
She looked away
and got on her bike
and rode off.
I got on my bike
and rode after her.
She was in
a fouler mood now,
and peddled fast
as she could.
I followed,
peddling as fast
as I could
to catch her up.
She rode along
the country road
for a good half mile,
when she pulled up
by the peacocks
by a farm cottage,
and got off.
I pulled up
and laid my bike
against a hedge,
and followed her,
and stood next to her
looking at the peacocks.
I'm a moody cow,
she said,
of course you wouldn't
have *** with my mum;
who would?
I don't know how
my dad ever did.
I love you,
I said,
no one else.
She turned
and smiled,
and kissed my cheek,
then stared
at the peacocks again.
I mused on her mother
who had made me toast
and a drink that morning
while I waited for Milka.
I liked her plumpness
and her motherliness,
but that was it,
nothing more,
but sometimes
something niggles you,
and so did that,
that's for sure.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC
Who would contradict the affection of a mother?
She who endeavored to bestow us the breath of existence;
Intensely compassionate in personality they are.
Secures us and therefore forms our defense.
Who else can obtain and sustain the duty of a sister?
She who happens to be our emotional support;
Sensible in intellect and gentle in action they are.
Guides us and therefore on no account lets us abort.
Who would constantly be dependable like a wife?
She who makes it crucial to fulfill our needs at any rate;
Gorgeous in qualities and remains beside us for our entire life,
Idolizes us and therefore desires us to be her soul mate.
Who else can be more valuable than a daughter?
She who sacrifices for the advantages of her family;
Garnished with essence of motherliness and heals our scar.
They are overflowing with responsibilities to an extreme degree.
Women stay as the most significant person in our life and soul,
And build an effort to facilitate us to accomplish our goal.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
For Tess,
The daylight hours
pass by
I find no comforts,
no warmth
no person of worthwhile
time spent
And my mind
clicks back to you,
and the way you are
my recluse from the
perilous limits
of life.
Shackled to motherliness,
Womanliness, femininity
We remain under
expectations to be
met some day,
but the thought
unsettles me.
With you,
I have found
what it is I want
With you,
the world’s demands
mean little
to our pairing
With you,
I can see my dreams
and yours, too,
simultaneous and growing,
binding us together
as a gracious
one.
Beloved,
my love for you
is plentiful and bountiful
with care for your
every solace.
No blight shall harm you,
no trace of hate shall
instill,
As long as I am there
fighting for your will
- A
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
I could have listened
to her heart
all day long,
but instead
I just lay
with my head
in her lap,
seeing her eyes
looking down,
the dark green
or such
as it was
or seemed,
capturing me
in the two frames.
Her pulse beating
along the nerves
of my skull,
her small *******
hidden there
somewhere,
smelling of
motherliness
or some such,
sweet to the nose,
but out of touch.
We waited
for the school
recess bell to ring
across the field,
waited uncaring,
wanting else,
but kisses
would have to do,
lips on lips stuff,
breath mixing
with breath,
tongues invading,
mouth to mouth;
hot O boy hot,
she was,
not the weather,
staring down,
eye to eye,
my head
on her thigh,
sensing not far away,
Eve's gateway.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC