Lady of the Night. ( Out of need)

It's 4:00 in the morning and it's pouring down again.

The rain is lashing against my misty window panes.

I can see halfway down the road under the streetlight.

There stands Mary, one of the ladies of the night.

Five nights a week Mary will be there, come rain or shine.

Just trying to survive not really committing any crime.

Mary has ...

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The primrose with its glowing face held high

Brings promise of the softer days of Spring

And gazes up towards the wind ripped sky

Through branches to the sunlight, filtering

New leaves unfold beneath the solemn frost

Where clasped they lie and frozen to the earth

A voice like yours is permanent, not lost

The primrose glows to celebrate your birth

And now each year it brings...

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I am my mother's tethered umbilical cord

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ReMember the Night

How can you go meekly into the night 

When your world no longer gently goes around?

How can you go meekly into the night

When lives of who you cherish depend on you being wise?

Do you forget that in the beginning time started?

And yet this time has an end as so do you.

For if you have, forget not that all times have their moments besides one Holy one

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Am I a burden or a blessing?

Until now I've brought you pain,

nitpicked neurotic neural pathways

produced images of you burdening people

nuked your brain by old beliefs.

The pitter patter of your baby

put like a seal pup on your chest

but I was there for stop her suckling,

I didn't want her to breathe

No-one except me knew you bitch.

After all we've been thr...

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Mother, My Loving Lotus

July 3, 2020 Ujjal Mandal

My mother is a blooming lotus of mind, 
Neither Surya does burn
 its soft petals, 
Nor Vayu does plunder 
its sweet fragrance,  
Indra never does efface its colour.
O dear mother, I cry whenever I feel dreary thoughts
start crawling into my heart.
Whenever I feel the bud of my heart
fading away in the scorching heat,
I shower myself...

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She sits there her book full of latent codes,
a way of communicating so no-one knows
Rambling on my life, traces of a history unread:
a mind full of trash and misdeeds unsaid.
She's a pristine therapist, who hasn't lived,
expecting me to say all and give,
when I couldn't give a shit about her plan.

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When my mother was alive
Our home was like a bee hive
Full of nector of life
An friendly faces
Now that she is gone,
And as time races
Relationships previously healthy And warm,
Fall to mistrust and harm
Like a string binding beads together
Mothers bring people close to one-another.

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Two of my children were kidnapped as babies, and I suffered so much over it.  This poem came out of that suffering, along with many many more.

A MOTHER’S GRIEF

It’s really hard to bear
The loneliness within
When emotions test
And hearts bleed
When children’s arms
Reach out to mother’ running
As they are taken from her
And pain is enthroned
To leave her with nothing
But the pain and
...

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My Mother used to comb my long hair.

When she hit a tangle I would cry

out in pain.

She would place her gentle hands

upon my head and whisper, "I'm sorry

darling but you must endure the

pain so that your hair will be shiny

and beautiful."

When my life hits a tangle I long fo...

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Now I know the happy teeth and smiling faces, The banana stained coat and tottering paces, The hand that grasps the latent breast, The head that snuggles upon my chest, The feet that curl around my waist, Her body softly leant against. Was there ever a child so good, I thank God for my motherhood.

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