An poem for my mother

A poem for my mother


When darkness fills all around

And I look for some love I turn to you , Maa

You, with that unassuming charm

In that endearing manner

Show me that life is worth living

Past this moment

I feel your comforting hand

Stroke my head as though

Assuring me that

It would last for eternity

I lay on your lap

And I don’t mind the darkness

I don’t care what

I care only that you are around

To take my sorrows away

And have me do the same

I see the stars Even without the skies

I see the moon

Down here, not that high

I see an angel Beckoning me

Luring me

To sunshine

I part the darkness And take a closer look

And I really knew

It was what it was

It was you, maa

That’s who you are to me

My angel, my God

My loving Ma

A Blessing

The Mother's heart, the hero's will,

The softest flowers' sweetest feel;

The charm and force that ever sway

The altar-fire's flaming play;

The strength that leads, in love obeys;

Far-reaching dreams, and patient ways,

Eternal faith in Self, in all,

The light Divine in great, in small;

All these and more than I could see,

Today may "Mother" grant to thee!

- Swami Vivekananda

The Beginning

"Where have I come from, where did you pick me up?" the baby asked its mother.

She answered, half crying, half laughing, and clasping the baby to her breast-

"You were hidden in my heart as its desire, my darling.

You were in the dolls of my childhood's games;

and when with clay I made the image of my god every morning, I made the unmade you then.

You were enshrined with our house hold deity, in his worship I worshipped you.

In all my hopes and my loves, in my life, in the life of my mother you have lived.

In the lap of the deathless Spirit who rules our home you have been nursed for ages.

When in girlhood my heart was opening its petals, you hoveredas a fragrance about it.

Your tender softness bloomed in my youthful limbs, like a glowin the sky before the sunrise.

Heaven's first darling, twain-born with the morning light, you have floated down the stream of the world's life, and at last youhave stranded on my heart.

As I gaze on your face, mystery overwhelms me; you who belong to all have become mine.

For fear of losing you I hold you tight to my breast. What magic has snared the world's treasure in these slender arms of mine?"

- by Rabindranath Tagore

Clouds and Waves

Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me -"We play from the time we wake till the day ends. We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."

I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?" They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."

"My mother is waiting for me at home, " I say, "How can I leave her and come?" Then they smile and float away.

But I know a nicer game than that, mother. I shall be the cloud and you the moon. I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the blue sky.

The folk who live in the waves call out to me -"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know not where we pass." I ask, "But how am I to join you?"

They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves." I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-how can I leave her and go?" They smile, dance and pass by.

But I know a better game than that. I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore. I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with laughter. And no one in the world will know where we both are.

- by Rabindranath Tagore

Always wanted my Angel-

Always wanted my Angel; One who takes away my worries

With those big eyes and that smile, My gift from my God above.

Always adored her power, Her strength to create miracles.

The way she brings that mystic fog And fills the environment with happiness.

Her aura has spark in it, Her glance has a balm in it;

The sweat that her work brings, When touches gloom turns into pearls.

Always wanted my Angel-What I got; was me as an Angel.

I became that gift, that balm, A reason to bring a smile.

I was an answer to someone's prayers

The burner to evaporate someone's salty drops.

I had to pick thorns from someone's path

And plant my beautiful flowers there.

With me was that power - Miracles were not mine but from me;

Sadness was all i absorb - Exhailing joy in its purest form.

No one knows how it feels, The feel of being that Angel.

It took time to sink in; Reverse role was the greed.

And then an oracle explained I was God's special little darling

What I spread was euphoria, What I got was eternal satisfaction.

Beggarly Heart

When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy.

When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song.

When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond,
come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest.

When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a king.

When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder

- by Rabindranath Tagore

Baby's Way

If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment. It is not for nothing that he does not leave us. He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot ever bear to lose sight of her.

Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth can understand their meaning. It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak. The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words from mother's lips. That is why he looks so innocent.

Baby had a heap of gold and pearls, yet he came like a beggar on to this earth. It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise. This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterly helpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.

Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon. It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom. He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little corner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught and pressed in her dear arms.

Baby never knew how to cry. He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss. It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears. Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother's yearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troubles weave the double bond of pity and love.

- by Rabindranath Tagore

The Child-Angel

They clamour and fight, they doubt and despair,
they know no end to their wrangling.
Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light,
my child,
unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.
They are cruel in their greed and their envy, their words are like
hidden knives thirsting for blood.
Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts,
my child,
and let your gentle eyes fall upon them
like the forgiving peace of the evening over the strife of the day.
Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the meaning
of all things; let them love you and thus love each other.
Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless,
my child.
At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming
flower, and at sunset bend your head and in silence complete the
worship of the day.


- by Rabindranath Tagore

The Angel

I Dreamt a Dream! what can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen:
Guarded by an Angel mild;
Witless woe, was neer beguil'd!

And I wept both night and day
And he wip'd my tears away
And I wept both day and night
And hid from him my hearts delight

So he took his wings and fled:
Then the morn blush'd rosy red:
I dried my tears & armd my fears,
With ten thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was arm'd, he came in vain:
For the time of youth was fled
And grey hairs were on my head

- by William Blake

Touched by An Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free।


- by Maya Angelou