Writer’s quote: Mother’s love

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed…

Do the above lines sound familiar? Most of us grew up reciting them. I cant remember exactly who taught me the poem, or where I was taught. Was it in school? At home? By my classmates? All I can remember is knowing the poem.

This famous poem was actually written by Ann Taylor in the 18/19th century. It was written at a time when maternal and child care was poor, and a lot of mothers would watch their children get ill and die from illnesses.

This poem reminds me of Love. I hope it takes you down memory lane…

My mother by Ann Taylor

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

The beautiful image above is gotten from: http://www.bestsayingsquotes.com/quote/who-ran-to-help-me-when-i-fell-and-would-some-pretty-story-2003.html

It’s you-

Of all who offered me their hearts,
Its yours I want to take;
Of all who peeked into my life,
It’s you I want to stay;

It’s you I chose, It’s you I asked-
It’s you who turned away.
Maybe, that’s the price to pay,
For those I turned away.

Today, I am feeling “Lang Leavy”, hence the poem above.

Facebook Page: words of a random.

Moving-

Geography lecture taught me,
That the earth does not standstill;
changing in such minute degrees,
Our naked eyes cannot see.

It makes me think and wonder,
Maybe thats why humans leave,
If the world itself keeps moving,
Whats to keep a man with feet.

Did he hear the voice of the universe
Calling, when he packed his things?
Did a silent message pass from the stars,
When he deigned- we meant nothing?

I guess- even the advanced sciences,
Have their own limits;
For no one’s yet to prove to me,
Why some just up and leave.

Facebook page: words of a random. 

Beauty (in the odd)-

 

There’s beauty in odd numbers,
And the things that don’t conform;
The sun on a winter December,
And rain when autumn draws.

There’s beauty in resilience,
Falling nine times, rising ten;
Standing strong when all around us,
Are breaking down in pairs.

There’s beauty in acceptance,
Of the flaws that make us whole;
For the only way to right things,
Is to acknowledge first- the wrong.

There’s beauty in forgiveness,
Letting things roll off our backs;
Shunning off small talks and gossips,
For our sanity, not theirs.

There’s beauty all around us,
And within our ourselves- unique,
Different sizes, shape and colour,
Each beautiful in its own being.

Facebook page: words of a random, let’s connect! 

Writer’s quote: Friendship

Welcome to another writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, where I share some of my favourite poems written by other authors. Today’s poem talks about friendship, with lines which melt the heart, written in brief verses with sequential rhymes. Talking about friendship, WordPress here, has one of the most supportive online community.

Well, a fellow blogger did something totally unexpected two weeks ago, which touched my heart. Its fellow blogger and poet, Jade M Wong. She also does these writer’s quote Wednesday series and that week, she shared one of my poems as an inspiration. Thank you very much Jade and I felt honoured with your gesture. I have written long before this blog, so I wouldn’t say I am in need of validation with my writing, but acknowledgement brings about such a wonderful feeling.

Still on the note of friendship, a dear blogger, Colin of a dog’s life, recently released his poetry book- just thinking. He has been such a support system for me here, so I’d appreciate it if you guys could take a minute to check his blog and his book too. The funds raised from the book would go towards an amazing cause. Check out this link to find out more: Just thinking. All that being said, (I hope I didn’t ramble too much), below is the poem:

The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

On being dark-

She was told as a kid,
To be fair is beautiful,
So she looked down her skin,
When she sighted a mirror,
And they pointed at others,
Saying- that girl is pretty.
And she withered inside for,
She didn’t look like those “pretties”.

8 year old and she’s taught,
To be dark is a sin,
For no man would approach,
A pigmented melanin,
And she’ll grow old and wilt,
In her lone parents home,
Well except, well except,
She did something about it.

And she did, yes she did,
More than something about it,
Now her skin is much lighter,
But she didn’t stop at her skin,
And her nose is a bit Pointer,
And her lips are much fuller,
And they point- see this fake thing,
Forgetting that they made her,
By the words they had implanted,
As a kid of eight years old.

Life (as she knows it)

What is life but a series of curveballs,
Of deaths which come unannounced,
Of heartaches and tear stained pillows,
Of forevers which end in the now.
Of betrayal by those whom you’d offer,
Your head on the pedestal for;
Of regrets and could haves, all the chances
For which a second, might not arrive.

She believed she had mastered life’s pattern,
All the crannies and nooks on its vast…
But the life that she knew was one sided,
Woven up and knitted out in pain…
She had seen loss one after another,
There was only so much she could take,
‘Fore the unbroken diamond she once was,
Lost its shine, by walling up pain.

If you see her she still is unbroken,
But her shine is never the same.

---

Side note: There has been a death in the family as a few of my blogging friends know. And that’s the reason for my absence from the blogging world for this month of may. Will get back to your comments and posts as soon as things settle down. 

The successful ones-

Would I- be amongst those,
Whose fingers would speak,
Of the goodness erupting,
From their finger tips;

On the day when the mountains,
All become flattened,
When man stands- sole,
And account for his deed.

Would I- be amongst, the few
Chosen ones, whose faces
Aglow, from the
Worship of their Lord.

At the first string of light,
They defeat the alarm,
And the grounds would bear witness,
They glorified their Lord.

Would I be amongst those,
The shaded ones,
Who bore with fortitude,
The trials of this world.

For indeed, on that day,
They’re the successful ones.
Those who walked the earth as strangers,
Knowing IT, they will become.

writer’s Quote: Solitude-

For the first writer’s quote of February, I chose an author whose poems I only recently became familiar with recently- Ella wheeler Wilcox. There, I gave out the author’s name already so no worries. There is no quiz this week. The title of the poem is Solitude.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

The verses of the poem were culled from Poetry foundation and the above image quote is courtesy of Quotesfancy.com

In the present-

I stood,
watching the sky beyond me,
fade to a brilliant violet hue.
Fade to a golden crimson colour,
In solitary fineness, I stood.

The birds-
I bet were wondering why,
I could tell from their hovering stance
Above, their noise but a minuscule
Compared to the view- I stood.

The beauty-
Early morn possesses,
At the start of summer every year,
Makes Autumn memory disappear,
Oh Lord, what blessing.

But Night,
Shall come and blanket,
The birds shall part for their nest,
Summer will eventually disappear,
So I stand… In the present.

The credit for the beautiful sunrise image above is courtesy of this blog these days of mine.com