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! I  Am grown to the open world
Where my Mother only hopes and prays
She prays "may her 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 perhaps ps mother nature
Why life and growth are 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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