Poem : Love (Writing Feather)
The Hand That Rocks the Cradle
From the womb to the first suckle,
Her heartbeat ever so gentle, her warmth ever so loving,
From the closeness of her bosom, her love is for the giving,
Through her I knew what is selfless rendering.
Her watchful eyes ensures each fall is pillow padded,
For no bruise or cut could be afforded,
No mischief is spared the rod,
Even through the pain, she has been my bungee cord.
Peanut butter and strawberry splattered,
The wallpaper all drawn and tattered,
Yet, to you I am Picasso gifted,
To create an art everyone is dumbfounded.
My first few words, was ma and unrecognisable gurgles,
Her delight was painted in endless giggles,
Her smile lasted for weeks if not months,
The pride of the lady that carried me for a full 9 months.
You always assure me in adversity mommy is here,
I always knew you will be near,
Your love is one of loving warmth,
To ensure that I meet no wrath.
You’re awake so that I sleep without an empty stomach,
I couldn’t wish more for she has done too much,
From cookies and pies fresh from the oven,
Mommy, warm my soul so very often.
I wonder what is beyond her embrace,
The world seems so intimidating without mommy's trace,
But, it so beautiful and inviting at the same time,
I wonder if she will be there if I am short of a dime,
To be my bungee cord again.
Mommy,
My first love, my lasting love.
That is beautiful - your way with words is amazing. My entry to this comp was a downright rant poetry therapy style lol
Dont say that. I enjoy what u wrote.
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Hey have you heard of Beau Taplin? Follow him on instagram... his posts will make ppl cry one...
Just like your post.
But i dont wanna make ppl cry
Good post. I like
Thx n i like u 4 liking it.
Loved your poem. What you have written is so true. Mom has done for much for us and we could never repay her back. If you are writing poetry, consider using the #onehumanbasket tag.
My mom sings n she sings us french songs coz she was taught by nuns in convent school.
Look at you trying to make me feel all mushy inside.
I knew it. Soft spot for mom. Mommy's boy
Says the person who wrote the poem to begin with.
U and me brother belong to the same category.
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