To the language from the lips
Of mother’s heart, the constant beats
Speak well meaning words
Of a good man to whom to belong
An Ode to the thoughts
That find their way to mother’s tongue- Hybrid
Me! The lady that sleeps on wooden floor
Mama rejected poverty and got on her knees
Her words were soothing,it milked its way to my stubborn heart
Bamboo sticks,carpet and a plastic cup was all mama thanked for.
She danced in David’s robes,her waist twisted like a King’s loins.
Her room became a land of Gold.-Rachel Charles
This ode cannot address
The number of times you laid to rest
Agony, sadness, hate and disdain
The scars on your knees countless
Each letter, a word, each word, a stick to my nest
Yes, i listened mother, your tongue i learned not in vain. – Leon
Always back on her blistered knees,
Her cares and worries dripping from her wearied lips.
Those her lips couldn’t express,
Her rod met buttocks to transform a no to a yes,
Lighting lamps to lead through our lonely land.
Amen to mother’s prayers, now the items we hold with thankful hands. ~ Tee2emm
Learning sessions almost same with pleasing session.
Placing kisses on my forehead is her obsession.
Held on to my hurts, so I don’t know that hurt actually hurts.
Her voice on the lullaby puts me to sleep without thoughts.
She “said” I should let things go and never forget.
Ode to my momma’s prayer, keep me straight ‘fore I regret.. Hypermind
I don’t have a few words to follow your suite
an ode is just a taste of soup my words may draw.
For nights you fought against demons, days I was still a red bloke – brute,
undergoing the fingers of the maker poking how tall I stand.
She wouldn’t help the rain in her eyes, as her voice became an ode of sad flute.
These words may just be few, but from my heart it is true – Ruddapoet
Not all girls grow to be women.
Considering these days and then.
Ye, ushered in me a disposition built through nights spent on knees.
To make a man, a man with the fortification of his own peace.
Ye did sell me a guidance at the loan of the man i have become. Mild.
God did build you a grown beard man, but to you mum i’ll always be a child. – Northpriest Judha
Ya Allah, oh God, ólórun oba, ohmorihi am, she prayed,
Using all dialects she could muster,
Where her voice failed, tears rained,
Hoping her turbulence cease, He straightens all that is strayed,
How proud I am to be your daughter,
Abashed with blessings, for all she prayed.- Hijab Gurl
With every crease on my face lips never ceased
For all my frown you went down
Whispers of your prayers on my heart still lingers
Countless hours you were restless
To my needs you always tended
On your knees, beautiful kneaded words to your Lord you tendered. – Vera
Her palm between the bones of my back lands so hard
Shaking my senses,
putting them where they ought to be
Her words in my life like complimentary card
Looking at me with her finger pulling down her lenses
Her warning like madea’s rod,she always gave to me ––Bangwan