The Golden Mother

The Golden Mother long poem

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The Golden Mother
In her tommy, I had lain for
three hundred days,
a single, but multi-purpose room;
there I slept and played
there I ate and bathed.

A blanket that warmed me in winter
the linen that refreshed me in the summer,
a protective cover of all times and seasons
from harm and disease.
A gymnasium of every sort-
where I ran and skipped,
where I relaxed when wanted and desired.
Where I changed body position,
whenever necessary.

Her discomfort was my comfort,
her varied and numerous pains
gave way to my happiness and
joy within.
Her groaning, I care less to know,
her overweight, the load I passed
over to her,
her edema, my waste she carried.

Her arms my couch and
sofa of three years,
her breasts, my never-
her legs the spinning chairs
that always put me to sleep.

Her laps I bed wet for years,
her clothes I turned to diapers
to hold my waste;
her head-tie I used as
handkerchief to clean my face.
Her back-a mobile crèche
without equal,
her mouth-the lullaby
gramophone devoid of
musical instruments,
unbeatable by any
world class musician.

My cries she understands,
my pains, she bears and soothes,
my joy, we both share-
when I smile, she laughs.

My concern her concern,
My emotions, she reads easily,
My feelings, she interprets with

Her name I knew before other names,
her voice, I recognized with distinction,
her face, the first image ever recorded
in mind.

When I play she responds positively,
modest, yet very inviting are
her challenges for my growth and
out of love, she challenged
me to begin the
walk of life by steps.
Challenged me to crawl by
throwing dice at me,
tasked me to stand up
raising objects atop of me;
tasked me to walk by holding
my hands,
taught me how to run by
running with me.

From her I learned the
first sermon of life,
all-round teacher in those
formative years;
all-time companion,
who does not abandon
even in tough times.

The inner room counsellor-
who assures, supports, and
shall I forget you,
even with a few failings
and noticeable errors?

Never! Never!!Never!!!
May you continue to live,
let your pride of motherhood
manifest to ALL.

A poem dedicated to ALL MOTHERS around
the Globe.

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Silas O. Abayomi

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Communication expert, education researcher, pollster, gender/physically challenged advocacy, linguist, poet, and a writer.
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1 Comment on "The Golden Mother"

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Shabeeh Kamoonpuri

A golden poem indeed.A beautiful tribute to all mothers.It touched the string of the heart.


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