Mere looks at the hooks in my life
Makes me bruise the knee of my cruise
My life is full of strife
I just calm and listen to the blues
Men and women chattering
I pass feeling pain
May I now say my life is battling
With great cane and disdain?
When from my mothers breast a suckling
I feel protected
Where do I go cuddling ?
Am I  now too big to fit into my cradle basket!!
Alas! Am grown to the open world
Where my mama only hopes and prays
She prays "may chimmas dreams not grow null''
May she surpass turbulent  gates
 I Am out in the solitude of the local bushes
The one with beautiful unwanted fruits
Free to pluck as it lays there rot and languished
Am I like the forest fruits?
Beautiful  yet unwanted!
I will go home and ask my mother
or perherps mother nature
Why life and growth is so tormented....
.ps; picture from the web..cheers

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  1. I loved this! A beautifully penned poem. Life is a struggle, for some more that others. I particularly loved the last stanza. This is just beautiful in it's entirety.

    1. wendy thank you very much ..life is indeed a struggle..sorry am only just replying now..and i do really like your name

  2. πŸ˜šπŸ˜šπŸ‘awesome poetry

  3. Indeed, let's go back to our mothers, when the vision seems so blur and unreal. ...
    The glittering rays of hope remanates from there... .
    Such a lovely poem 🌹 😍😍😍

  4. Rose you are good.. Keep it up


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