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#1
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Mother ( Blessing of god )
Princess of stars
Mother is a gift of god A great gift from my lord she is a symbol of love and affection She takes away all over tension She teaches us to walk She teaches us to talk She takes care of us all The greatest personality, Affter God is mother As our prophet (PBUH) has said That Paradise below the mother`s feet |
#2
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mother's love
A Mother's love is something
that no on can explain, It is made of deep devotion and of sacrifice and pain, It is endless and unselfish and enduring come what may For nothing can destroy it or take that love away . . . It is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking, And it never fails or falters even though the heart is breaking . . . It believes beyond believing when the world around condemns, And it glows with all the beauty of the rarest, brightest gems . . . It is far beyond defining, it defies all explanation, And it still remains a secret like the mysteries of creation . . . A many splendoured miracle man cannot understand And another wondrous evidence of God's tender guiding hand.
__________________
ஜ иστнιπg ι ιмթΘรรιвlε тσ α ωιℓℓιиg нєαят ஜ |
#3
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Whats a Mother Worth?
I humbly appraise my mother's worth,
It began with pain to give me birth, Which triggered off a love so strong, Blossoming into a life-long bond. When needed, she was always there, Someone I realised would always care. And the older I got the more I knew, A mother's love sincere and true. Now as I watch Mum age in years, I'm happy to help and ease her fears. Privileged now to play my part, As she did for me from the very start.
__________________
ஜ иστнιπg ι ιмթΘรรιвlε тσ α ωιℓℓιиg нєαят ஜ |
#4
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Her Hands My mother's hands are cool and fair,
They can do anything. Delicate mercies hide them there Like flowers in the spring. When I was small and could not sleep, She used to come to me, And with my cheek upon her hand How sure my rest would be. For everything she ever touched Of beautiful or fine, Their memories living in her hands Would warm that sleep of mine. Her hands remember how they played One time in meadow streams, -- And all the flickering song and shade Of water took my dreams. Swift through her haunted fingers pass Memories of garden things; -- I dipped my face in flowers and grass And sounds of hidden wings. One time she touched the cloud that kissed Brown pastures bleak and far; -- I leaned my cheek into a mist And thought I was a star. All this was very long ago And I am grown; but yet The hand that lured my slumber so I never can forget. For still when drowsiness comes on It seems so soft and cool, Shaped happily beneath my cheek, Hollow and beautiful.
__________________
ஜ иστнιπg ι ιмթΘรรιвlε тσ α ωιℓℓιиg нєαят ஜ |
#5
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Her Words My mother has the prettiest tricks
Of words and words and words. Her talk comes out as smooth and sleek As breasts of singing birds. She shapes her speech all silver fine Because she loves it so. And her own eyes begin to shine To hear her stories grow. And if she goes to make a call Or out to take a walk We leave our work when she returns And run to hear her talk. We had not dreamed these things were so Of sorrow and of mirth. Her speech is as a thousand eyes Through which we see the earth. God wove a web of loveliness, Of clouds and stars and birds, But made not any thing at all So beautiful as words. They shine around our simple earth With golden shadowings, And every common thing they touch Is exquisite with wings. There's nothing poor and nothing small But is made fair with them. They are the hands of living faith That touch the garment's hem. They are as fair as bloom or air, They shine like any star, And I am rich who learned from her How beautiful they are.
__________________
ஜ иστнιπg ι ιмթΘรรιвlε тσ α ωιℓℓιиg нєαят ஜ |
The Following User Says Thank You to Sureshlasi For This Useful Post: | ||
Hurriah (Friday, November 02, 2007) |
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