Honour Your Mother Quotes

Your friend is intellectually honourable," Jimmy's mother would say. "He doesn't lie to himself.

If you honour your mother, the Mother of the Universe will guard you against harm.

A mother is an irreplaceable gift that God has given every mankind. Your (a child's) duty is to honour, adore, respect and serve her. Your blessings are tied in how honour she felt.

Greet your brother with warmth And sincerity Protect your sister and honour your mother For she bore you in pain And made you who you are KhoiSan Book of Wisdom

By the sea and in the eyes of the Mother and the Lord of Judgement, I declare myself to you. I come to you without distinctions and without glory, without the trifling and meaningless trappings of mortal honours. I come to you as nothing and no one but myself. Take my hands and see that they are empty - I offer you no wealth but that of my heart, and ask for none but that of yours. Hear my words and know that they are true - I swear myself to you and none other

your father is an image of the lord of Creation, your mother an image of the earth. for him who fails to honour them, every work of piety is in vain. This is the first duty.’ (hindu. Janet, i. 9)

And there is always the argument-closing ‘Villain, I have done thy mother’, a retort from Titus Andronicus of such eviscerating wit that we still honour it today with jokes beginning with ‘your mum’.

Eros mumbled something. "I'm sorry?" said Aphrodite. "Whatwouldjesusdo." "What would Jesus do?" said Aphrodite. "Let me tell you something. Jesus was a very good boy. He would do exactly what his mother told him to." "But-" "Jesus was supposed to be a god, right?" said Aphrodite. "Ergo, he did revenge. All gods do revenge." "Not exactly. He said you should turn the other-" "What else does your Jesus say?" Aphrodite interrupted. "I thought you didn't care." "Let me see," said Aphrodite. "I remember. 'Honour thy father and mother'." "One, that wasn't Jesus. And two, it's hard to honour your father when there are so many candidates for who he might be." "That's not very nice," said Aphrodite. "You know who your father is. It's your cousin Ares." [...] "I wish the Virgin Mary was my mother," grumbled Eros eventually.

what is the expression which the age demands? the age demands no expression whatever. we have seen photographs of bereaved asian mothers. we are not interested in the agony of your fumbled organs. there is nothing you can show on your face that can match the horror of this time. do not even try. you will only hold yourself up to the scorn of those who have felt things deeply. we have seen newsreels of humans in the extremities of pain and dislocation. you are playing to people who have experienced a catastrophe. this should make you very quiet. speak the words, convey the data, step aside. everyone knows you are in pain. you cannot tell the audience everything you know about love in every line of love you speak. step aside and they will know what you know because you know it already. you have nothing to teach them. you are not more beautiful than they are. you are not wiser. do not shout at them. do not force a dry entry. that is bad sex. if you show the lines of your genitals, then deliver what you promise. and remember that people do not really want an acrobat in bed. what is our need? to be close to the natural man, to be close to the natural woman. do not pretend that you are a beloved singer with a vast loyal audience which has followed the ups and downs of your life to this very moment. the bombs, flame-throwers, and all the shit have destroyed more than just the trees and villages. they have also destroyed the stage. did you think that your profession would escape the general destruction? there is no more stage. there are no more footlights. you are among the people. then be modest. speak the words, convey the data, step aside. be by yourself. be in your own room. do not put yourself on. do not act out words. never act out words. never try to leave the floor when you talk about flying. never close your eyes and jerk your head to one side when you talk about death. do not fix your burning eyes on me when you speak about love. if you want to impress me when you speak about love put your hand in your pocket or under your dress and play with yourself. if ambition and the hunger for applause have driven you to speak about love you should learn how to do it without disgracing yourself or the material. this is an interior landscape. it is inside. it is private. respect the privacy of the material. these pieces were written in silence. the courage of the play is to speak them. the discipline of the play is not to violate them. let the audience feel your love of privacy even though there is no privacy. be good whores. the poem is not a slogan. it cannot advertise you. it cannot promote your reputation for sensitivity. you are students of discipline. do not act out the words. the words die when you act them out, they wither, and we are left with nothing but your ambition. the poem is nothing but information. it is the constitution of the inner country. if you declaim it and blow it up with noble intentions then you are no better than the politicians whom you despise. you are just someone waving a flag and making the cheapest kind of appeal to a kind of emotional patriotism. think of the words as science, not as art. they are a report. you are speaking before a meeting of the explorers' club of the national geographic society. these people know all the risks of mountain climbing. they honour you by taking this for granted. if you rub their faces in it that is an insult to their hospitality. do not work the audience for gasps ans sighs. if you are worthy of gasps and sighs it will not be from your appreciation of the event but from theirs. it will be in the statistics and not the trembling of the voice or the cutting of the air with your hands. it will be in the data and the quiet organization of your presence. avoid the flourish. do not be afraid to be weak. do not be ashamed to be tired. you look good when you're tired. you look like you could go on forever. now come into my arms. you are the image of my beauty.

It's an honour to meet you, Aunt Sara." ... "Now," she said, "I must tell you the truth about your mother... She named you Scarlet and Ivy... like we were Sara and Ida. S and I together once more. She never forgot me.

Go in peace," I said to him; "bear no ill-will to me, for Necessity yields to no man: and do not complain of me to our mother, for her blood is on your head as well as mine. If the gods had not forbidden it, my brother, I would put you to sleep before I left you, for night comes on; this is an empty place, and the clouds look dark upon the mountains. But the blood of kindred is not to be washed away; and when a man has once felt the breath of the Honoured Ones upon his neck, he will not bid them across the threshold. So forgive me, and suffer what must be. The clouds are heavy; if the gods love you, before morning there will be snow.

Supposing I were to give you a hundred and fifty diamonds every day, even if you were an enemy of mine, would you not forgive me? Would you not treat me as a friend and give me all the graces that you were able to give? If you want to gain the riches of grace and of glory, salute the Blessed Virgin, honour your good Mother.

So. Siblings first, for you. And then . . .’ ‘Then your mother. You always, always honour and respect your mother, even if you don’t like her.

Of all the homes I have known, yours has been a shining model of wisdom and kindness and honesty. For what you and your mother have done in the past, for me and for the child, I owe you a profound debt of honour. You have that claim on me. So has your mother. But if you press it too far; if you will accept no appeal and continue to press it, over and over; if you move into my life, both of you, and take your stance there and feel obliged to command and instruct me in how I should or should not behave, you will destroy our relationship. I shall walk away from you both; I shall deny you both; I shall repudiate all you have done for me. It will all be as if it had never happened … I don’t know what you fear for me, but that you should fear. For I cannot afford it.

There was a time when women totally honoured and celebrated their monthly cycles. For real. It was the cycle that moved a woman from girl, through to mother, through to wise woman, through to crone. Back

Tatyana’s Letter to Onegin I’m writing you this declaration— What more can I in candour say? It may be now your inclination To scorn me and to turn away; But if my hapless situation Evokes some pity for my woe, You won’t abandon me, I know. I first tried silence and evasion; Believe me, you‘d have never learned My secret shame, had I discerned The slightest hope that on occasion— But once a week—I’d see your face, Behold you at our country place, Might hear you speak a friendly greeting, Could say a word to you; and then, Could dream both day and night again Of but one thing, till our next meeting. They say you like to be alone And find the country unappealing; We lack, I know, a worldly tone, But still, we welcome you with feeling. Why did you ever come to call? In this forgotten country dwelling I’d not have known you then at all, Nor known this bitter heartache’s swelling. Perhaps, when time had helped in quelling The girlish hopes on which I fed, I might have found (who knows?) another And been a faithful wife and mother, Contented with the life I led. Another! No! In all creation There’s no one else whom I’d adore; The heavens chose my destination And made me thine for evermore! My life till now has been a token In pledge of meeting you, my friend; And in your coming, God has spoken, You‘ll be my guardian till the end…. You filled my dreams and sweetest trances; As yet unseen, and yet so dear, You stirred me with your wondrous glances, Your voice within my soul rang clear…. And then the dream came true for me! When you came in, I seemed to waken, I turned to flame, I felt all shaken, And in my heart I cried: It’s he! And was it you I heard replying Amid the stillness of the night, Or when I helped the poor and dying, Or turned to heaven, softly crying, And said a prayer to soothe my plight? And even now, my dearest vision, Did I not see your apparition Flit softly through this lucent night? Was it not you who seemed to hover Above my bed, a gentle lover, To whisper hope and sweet delight? Are you my angel of salvation Or hell’s own demon of temptation? Be kind and send my doubts away; For this may all be mere illusion, The things a simple girl would say, While Fate intends no grand conclusion…. So be it then! Henceforth I place My faith in you and your affection; I plead with tears upon my face And beg you for your kind protection. You cannot know: I’m so alone, There’s no one here to whom I’ve spoken, My mind and will are almost broken, And I must die without a moan. I wait for you … and your decision: Revive my hopes with but a sign, Or halt this heavy dream of mine— Alas, with well-deserved derision! I close. I dare not now reread…. I shrink with shame and fear. But surely, Your honour’s all the pledge I need, And I submit to it securely.

I Promise You A message of hope from a wonderful Mother I am here to walk you Through this journey called life I will look after you Until you can do so on your own I know you need my help for now Yes, I assure you my lovely one I shall hold your hand no matter what And stand by you, even in the darkest night Will ensure your days are bright Indeed, the Earth can be so rough Just like the ocean changes its tide Fear not, for I will be on your side With you, I will fly high Until we go to the skies And touch the shining stars I will not let my scars Stop me from being kind To you my precious child I will be there Until the end I promise you!

My Beloved Son! Special appreciation from a wonderful Mother Look at you all grown up Kind, but tough What an honour To be your Mother Truly blessed by your aura You have done me a favour By being part of my life I am grateful that you are fine May you know whose you are As your loving parent I make the commitment To share essential lessons That can help you excel In the path that lies ahead I hope you will understand How you will get there With joy, love and care Please, lend me an ear Of this, you should hear Be grounded in the Lord Pursue His Wisdom Acknowledge His grace Seek His ways all your days So, when hail comes your way You will not faint, but reign Stand tall like a tower Go higher and higher Please shine brighter My beloved son

Your mother gives birth to you only once and only once do you die,' the witcher said calmly. 'An appropriate philosophy for a louse, don't you agree? And your longevity? I pity you, Filavandrel.' The elf raised his eyebrows. 'Why?' 'You're pathetic, with your little stolen sacks of seeds on pack horses, with your handful of grain, that tiny crumb thanks to which you plan to survive. And with that mission of yours which is supposed to turn your thoughts from imminent annihilation. Because you know this is the end. Nothing will sprout or yield crops on the plateaux, nothing will save you now. But you live long, and you will live very long in arrogant isolation, fewer and fewer of you, growing weaker and weaker, more and more bitter. And you know what'll happen then, Filavandrel. You know that desperate young men with the eyes of hundred-year-old men and withered, barren and sick girls like Toruviel will lead those who can still hold a sword and bow in their hands, down into the valleys. You'll come down into the blossoming valleys to meet death, wanting to die honourably, in battle, and not in sick beds of misery, where anaemia, tuberculosis and scurvy will send you. Then, long-living Aen Seidhe, you'll remember me. You'll remember that I pitied you. And you'll understand that I was right.' 'Time will tell who was right,' said the elf quietly. 'And herein lies the advantage of longevity. I've got a chance of finding out, if only because of that stolen handful of grain. You won't have a chance like that. You'll die shortly.

In that moment, I felt truly sorry for you, Odysseus. But when the bard sang this next part, it was all I could do not to have him thrown over Ithaca’s rocky outcrops and left to drown in the darkening sea. First you asked your mother how she had died. Then you asked after the health of your father. Then your son. Then your honour. Then your throne. And then, when you had asked about everything else except the dog, you remembered to ask after your wife.

The heartwood," Rob murmured, looking at me. "You wanted to marry me in the heart of Major Oak." I beamed at him grateful that he understood. "And Scar," he whispered. I leaned in close. "Are you wearing knives to our wedding?" Nodding, I laughed, telling him, "I was going to get you here one way or another, Hood." He laughed, a bright, merry sound. Standing in the heart of the tree, he reached again for my hand, fingers sliding over mine. Touching his hand, a rope of lightening lashed round my fingers, like it seared us together. Now, and for always. His fingers moved on mine, rubbing over my hand before capturing it tight and turning me to the priest. The priest looked over his shoulder, watching as the sun began to dip. He led us in prayer, he asked me to speak the same words I'd spoken not long past to Gisbourne, but that whole thing felt like a bad dream, like I were waking and it were fading and gone for good. "Lady Scarlet." he asked me with a smile, "known to some as Lady Marian of Huntingdon, will thou have this lord to thy wedded husband, will thou love him and honour him, keep him and obey him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, forsaking all others on account of him, so long as ye both shall live?" I looked at Robin, tears burning in my eyes. "I will," I promised. "I will, always." Rob's face were beaming back at me, his ocean eyes shimmering bright. The priest smiled. "Robin of Locksley, will thou have this lady to thy wedded wife, will thou love her and honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, forsaking all others on account of her, so long as ye both shall live?" the priest asked. "Yes," Rob said. "I will." "You have the rings?" the priest asked Rob. "I do," I told the priest, taking two rings from where Bess had tied them to my dress. I'd sent Godfrey out to buy them at market without Rob knowing. "I knew you weren't planning on this," I told him. Rob just grinned like a fool at me, taking the ring I handed him to put on my finger. Laughs bubbled up inside of me, and I felt like I were smiling so wide something were stuck in my cheeks and holding me open. More shy and proud than I thought I'd be, I said. "I take you as me wedded husband, Robin. And thereto I plight my troth." I pushed the ring onto his finger. He took my half hand in one of his, but the other- holding the ring- went into his pocket. "I may not have known I would marry you today Scar," he said. "But I did know I would marry you." He showed me a ring, a large ruby set in delicate gold. "This," he said to me, "was my mother's. It's the last thing I have of hers, and when I met you and loved you and realized your name was the exact colour of the stone- " He swallowed, and cleared his throat, looking at me with the blue eyes that shot right through me. "This was meant to be Scarlet. I was always meant to love you. To marry you." The priest coughed. "Say the words, my son, and you will marry her." Rob grinned and I laughed, and Rob stepped closer, cradling my hand. "I take you as my wedded wife, Scarlet. And thereto I plight my troth." He slipped the ring on my finger and it fit. "Receive the Holy Spirit," the priest said, and kissed Robin on the cheek. Rob's happy grin turned a touch wolflike as he turned back to me, hauling me against him and angling his mouth over mine. I wrapped my arms around him and my head spun- I couldn't tell if we were spinning, if I were dizzy, if my feet were on the ground anymore at all, but all I knew, all I cared for, were him, his mouth against mine, and letting the moment we became man and wife spin into eternity.

You are wonderful!" he said gravely. "Oh, you appreciate me!" she burst out again. "I wish you didn't. You appreciate us all—see good in all of us. And all the time you are dead—dead—dead. Look, why aren't you angry?" She came up to him, and then her mood suddenly changed, and she took hold of both his hands. "You are so splendid, Mr. Herriton, that I can't bear to see you wasted. I can't bear—she has not been good to you—your mother." "Miss Abbott, don't worry over me. Some people are born not to do things. I'm one of them; I never did anything at school or at the Bar. I came out to stop Lilia's marriage, and it was too late. I came out intending to get the baby, and I shall return an 'honourable failure.' I never expect anything to happen now, and so I am never disappointed. You would be surprised to know what my great events are. Going to the theatre yesterday, talking to you now—I don't suppose I shall ever meet anything greater. I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it—and I'm sure I can't tell you whether the fate's good or evil. I don't die—I don't fall in love. And if other people die or fall in love they always do it when I'm just not there. You are quite right; life to me is just a spectacle, which—thank God, and thank Italy, and thank you—is now more beautiful and heartening than it has ever been before.

Yes and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour or inclination confined to his cousin, why not is he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?

The Priceless Job of Motherhood God of Heaven I am here on Earth To follow a Divine mandate Of being a loving Mother I know I have no strength To do this on my own I pray for your wisdom To perform this task Without a fright As I raise these children Please help me remember I was never hired for this role But highly favoured To find myself in it Hence, I acknowledge this privilege Of being a parent to them Lord, I lift my hands And bow to Your majestic Name I say at top of my voice Thank you, Father For the priceless job of Motherhood!

You must honour and obey and conciliate your country when angry, more than a father; you must either persuade her, or do whatever she commands; you must bear in quiet anything she bids you bear, be it stripes or prison; or if she leads you to war, to be wounded or to die, this you must do, and it is right; you must not give way or retreat or leave your post, but in war and in court and everywhere you must do whatever city and country commands, or else convince her where the right lies. Violence is not allowed against mother or father, much less against your country.

I cannot quite warm to your suggestion that I accompany the ambassador to ––. I am no great friend of subordination; and we all know that, what is more, he is a disagreeable person. You say that my mother would like to see me kept occupied, which made me laugh. As if I were not occupied now; and does it make much fundamental difference whether I count peas or lentils? The affairs of the world are no more than so much trickery, and a man who toils for money or honour or whatever else in deference to the wishes of others, rather than because his own desire or needs lead him to do so, will always be a fool.

My Darling Child Yesterday, I was a child Today, I am a Mother So much like your Grandmother I realised another life Was growing inside of me I had to embrace another being As part of my daily living That is how I found my healing You are my precious gift My love for you is so deep When I held you in my arms I could not help but admire Such a beautiful Soul I sang you a song To express my joy Of being a parent to you I knew there was a reason You were chosen To journey with me So, here is my promise Will be the best Mom I can ever be I will stand by you forever And no one can take on The role I play My darling child

I Promise You A message of hope from a wonderful Mother I am here to walk you Through this journey called life I will look after you Until you can do so on your own I know you need my help for now Yes, I assure you my lovely one I shall hold your hand no matter what Stand by you, even in the darkest night And ensure your days are bright Indeed, the Earth can be so rough Just like the ocean changes its tide Fear not, for I will be on your side With you, I will fly high Until we get to the skies And touch the shining stars I will not let my scars Stop me from being kind To you, my precious child I will be there Until the end I promise you!

I Should Have Told You Child, I love you I wished to be with you longer But I had to go to a place up yonder My time on Earth was over There is something I should tell I hope you receive it well Here is a vital fact Not every parent might share Please lend me an ear Learn while you can I want you to know That life comes with its highs and lows Stand for yourself, whether or not it snows Pray more and fast more Trust the Lord your God When storms come your way Do not doubt your faith Put on a brave face Run in the right lane You shall win the race Be a good learner Always be eager To become an achiever Keep being a dreamer Never fear to be a leader Because you were born to prosper And that my adorable one Is what I should have told you

The Things Mommy Taught Oh, my child! You are beautiful, without a doubt Love the person you are Look in the mirror with a smile Seek after things that matter Allow nothing to ruin your good heart Shun anything wicked for you to hear Listen, so you too can be heard Choose to be of good influence Invest in a better tomorrow Become no one’s shadow Learn not to be shallow Lead so others can follow Let go of what brings you sorrow Know where to find joy Even when I am gone Remain strong In the storm, do not get lost Fix your eyes upon the Lord Fill your mind with the Word of God For in it are infinite wells of wisdom Hold on to His promises Pursue your purpose Say a prayer Make sure you prosper Each day on this Earth Remember the things Mommy taught

As we celebrate International Women’s Day, I would like to take a moment to honour and appreciate all the incredible women who have touched our lives in so many ways. To all the mothers, sisters, daughters, grandmothers, and friends who have shown us kindness, wisdom, and grace. Your strength, resilience, and perseverance continue to inspire us every day. You have been a constant source of support, and your guidance has helped us navigate through the toughest of times. No amount of gratitude is enough to thank you for everything that you have done for us. May you continue to shine your light and inspire others to do the same. May you be blessed with love, happiness, and success in all that you do. Happy International Women’s Day to all the incredible women out there!

Grateful For You A gratitude poem from a Mother to her miracle child You are a wonderful treasure My love for you I cannot measure In you, God gave me an Angel Through you, I was blessed by the Heavens An answered prayer of way back Just when I thought it was over My precious gift from Above, you showed up! Filled with your bright smile and loads of fun You make me so fine Oh, what a privilege in life! To be given such a sense of pride As I call you my child While you chose to be mine You are so kind You bring me hope every time I could go through heavy tides With you by my side I always rise You help me to make many strides I cannot drown, not even once You give me a better chance To become a daring Mom I have peace, even in the storm Because you teach me to stay strong So glad you came along And never left me all alone What an honour to be your Mother! My perfect match Such a great catch! My very best friend Will you lend me a hand? To walk beside you on this land You are all I ever need And I am so grateful for you

He was walking down a narrow street in Beirut, Lebanon, the air thick with the smell of Arabic coffee and grilled chicken. It was midday, and he was sweating badly beneath his flannel shirt. The so-called South Lebanon conflict, the Israeli occupation, which had begun in 1982 and would last until 2000, was in its fifth year. The small white Fiat came screeching around the corner with four masked men inside. His cover was that of an aid worker from Chicago and he wasn’t strapped. But now he wished he had a weapon, if only to have the option of ending it before they took him. He knew what that would mean. The torture first, followed by the years of solitary. Then his corpse would be lifted from the trunk of a car and thrown into a drainage ditch. By the time it was found, the insects would’ve had a feast and his mother would have nightmares, because the authorities would not allow her to see his face when they flew his body home. He didn’t run, because the only place to run was back the way he’d come, and a second vehicle had already stopped halfway through a three-point turn, all but blocking off the street. They exited the Fiat fast. He was fit and trained, but he knew they’d only make it worse for him in the close confines of the car if he fought them. There was a time for that and a time for raising your hands, he’d learned. He took an instep hard in the groin, and a cosh over the back of his head as he doubled over. He blacked out then. The makeshift cell Hezbollah had kept him in in Lebanon was a bare concrete room, three metres square, without windows or artificial light. The door was wooden, reinforced with iron strips. When they first dragged him there, he lay in the filth that other men had made. They left him naked, his wrists and ankles chained. He was gagged with rag and tape. They had broken his nose and split his lips. Each day they fed him on half-rancid scraps like he’d seen people toss to skinny dogs. He drank only tepid water. Occasionally, he heard the muted sound of children laughing, and smelt a faint waft of jasmine. And then he could not say for certain how long he had been there; a month, maybe two. But his muscles had wasted and he ached in every joint. After they had said their morning prayers, they liked to hang him upside down and beat the soles of his feet with sand-filled lengths of rubber hose. His chest was burned with foul-smelling cigarettes. When he was stubborn, they lay him bound in a narrow structure shaped like a grow tunnel in a dusty courtyard. The fierce sun blazed upon the corrugated iron for hours, and he would pass out with the heat. When he woke up, he had blisters on his skin, and was riddled with sand fly and red ant bites. The duo were good at what they did. He guessed the one with the grey beard had honed his skills on Jewish conscripts over many years, the younger one on his own hapless people, perhaps. They looked to him like father and son. They took him to the edge of consciousness before easing off and bringing him back with buckets of fetid water. Then they rubbed jagged salt into the fresh wounds to make him moan with pain. They asked the same question over and over until it sounded like a perverse mantra. “Who is The Mandarin? His name? Who is The Mandarin?” He took to trying to remember what he looked like, the architecture of his own face beneath the scruffy beard that now covered it, and found himself flinching at the slightest sound. They had peeled back his defences with a shrewdness and deliberation that had both surprised and terrified him. By the time they freed him, he was a different man.  

Rejoice, O father Adam, and exult yet more, O mother Eve—you who, though the parents of all, were their destroyers even before you became their parents. Be consoled now in your daughter, and in such a daughter! you especially, O Eve, from whom the evil first originated, and whose reproach passed as a disgraceful legacy to womanhood. The time is at hand when that reproach shall be taken away. Wherefore, O Eve, hasten to Mary; hasten, O Mother, to your daughter. Let the daughter answer for the mother; let her take away her mother’s reproach; let her satisfy also for her father Adam, for if he fell by a woman, behold, he is now raised up by a woman. God gave a woman in exchange for a woman; a prudent woman for one that was foolish; a humble woman for one who was proud; one who, instead of the fruit of death, shall give you to eat of the tree of life, and who, in place of the poisoned food of bitterness, will bring forth the fruit of everlasting sweetness. Change now, O Adam, your wicked words of excuse to the song of endless thanksgiving, and say: “O Lord, the woman whom thou hast given me, gave me of the tree of life; and I have eaten, and its fruit has been sweeter than honey to my mouth, and by it thou hast given me life.” This is why the angel was sent to the Virgin. O wondrous and most honourable Virgin! O woman singularly venerable! admirable among all women! thou who hast satisfied for thy parents, and restored life to their posterity.

I know High Ladies are probably supposed to wear a new dress every day,' I mused, smiling at the gown, 'but I'm rather attached to this one.' He ran his hand down my thigh. 'I'm glad.' 'You never told me where you got it- where you got all my favourite dresses.' Rhys arched a dark brow. 'You never figured it out?' I shook my head. For a moment, he said nothing, his head dipping to study the dress. 'My mother made them.' I went still.' Rhys smiled sadly at the shimmering gown. 'She was a seamstress, back at the camp where she'd been raised. She didn't just do the work because she was ordered to. She did it because she loved it. And when she mated my father, she continued.' I grazed a reverent hand down my sleeve. 'I- I had no idea. His eyes were star-bright. 'Long ago, when I was still a boy, she made them- all your gowns. A trousseau for my future bride.' His throat bobbed. 'Every piece... Every piece I have ever given you to wear, she made them. For you.' My eyes stung as I breathed. 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'He shrugged with one shoulder. 'I thought you might be... disturbed to wear gowns made by a female who died centuries ago.' I put a hand over my heart. 'I am honoured, Rhys. Beyond words.' His mouth trembled a bit. 'She would have loved you.' It was as great a gift as any I'd been given. I leaned down until our brows touched. I would have loved her. I felt his gratitude without him saying a word as we remained there, breathing each other in for long minutes.

Hymn to Mercury : Continued 71. Sudden he changed his plan, and with strange skill Subdued the strong Latonian, by the might Of winning music, to his mightier will; His left hand held the lyre, and in his right The plectrum struck the chords—unconquerable Up from beneath his hand in circling flight The gathering music rose—and sweet as Love The penetrating notes did live and move 72. Within the heart of great Apollo—he Listened with all his soul, and laughed for pleasure. Close to his side stood harping fearlessly The unabashed boy; and to the measure Of the sweet lyre, there followed loud and free His joyous voice; for he unlocked the treasure Of his deep song, illustrating the birth Of the bright Gods, and the dark desert Earth: 73. And how to the Immortals every one A portion was assigned of all that is; But chief Mnemosyne did Maia's son Clothe in the light of his loud melodies;— And, as each God was born or had begun, He in their order due and fit degrees Sung of his birth and being—and did move Apollo to unutterable love. 74. These words were winged with his swift delight: 'You heifer-stealing schemer, well do you Deserve that fifty oxen should requite Such minstrelsies as I have heard even now. Comrade of feasts, little contriving wight, One of your secrets I would gladly know, Whether the glorious power you now show forth Was folded up within you at your birth, 75. 'Or whether mortal taught or God inspired The power of unpremeditated song? Many divinest sounds have I admired, The Olympian Gods and mortal men among; But such a strain of wondrous, strange, untired, And soul-awakening music, sweet and strong, Yet did I never hear except from thee, Offspring of May, impostor Mercury! 76. 'What Muse, what skill, what unimagined use, What exercise of subtlest art, has given Thy songs such power?—for those who hear may choose From three, the choicest of the gifts of Heaven, Delight, and love, and sleep,—sweet sleep, whose dews Are sweeter than the balmy tears of even:— And I, who speak this praise, am that Apollo Whom the Olympian Muses ever follow: 77. 'And their delight is dance, and the blithe noise Of song and overflowing poesy; And sweet, even as desire, the liquid voice Of pipes, that fills the clear air thrillingly; But never did my inmost soul rejoice In this dear work of youthful revelry As now. I wonder at thee, son of Jove; Thy harpings and thy song are soft as love. 78. 'Now since thou hast, although so very small, Science of arts so glorious, thus I swear,— And let this cornel javelin, keen and tall, Witness between us what I promise here,— That I will lead thee to the Olympian Hall, Honoured and mighty, with thy mother dear, And many glorious gifts in joy will give thee, And even at the end will ne'er deceive thee.' 79. To whom thus Mercury with prudent speech:— 'Wisely hast thou inquired of my skill: I envy thee no thing I know to teach Even this day:—for both in word and will I would be gentle with thee; thou canst reach All things in thy wise spirit, and thy sill Is highest in Heaven among the sons of Jove, Who loves thee in the fulness of his love. 80. 'The Counsellor Supreme has given to thee Divinest gifts, out of the amplitude Of his profuse exhaustless treasury; By thee, 'tis said, the depths are understood Of his far voice; by thee the mystery Of all oracular fates,—and the dread mood Of the diviner is breathed up; even I— A child—perceive thy might and majesty.

Flower killers ( PART 1 ) Flower killers There is a war going on out there, Wherever you turn to see, it is everywhere, Guns firing bullets that bear one address: kill, Who? Just anyone do it at your free will, And the guns spray death in all directions, Giving rise to endless predilections, That of a father, a mother and a lover, Whoever the bullet may hit, is lost forever, And when bullets turn stray, They hit anything that comes in their way, It does not matter whether you are a foe or a friend, That time the bullet, only its purpose does defend, That to kill and shoot anyhow and anyone, It can be a father, a mother, a daughter, a lover, or just a human someone, And as the victim falls and collapses on the ground, The bullet pierces deeper like the canines of a hungry hound, And no matter how hard you tried it cannot be bound, Because the war is everywhere and so is its echoing and deathly sound, That tempts the bullet to travel and shoot someone, somewhere, And it couldn't be happier than now, because the war is everywhere, Yesterday a stray bullet whizzed through the air, And it hit a flower that had just bloomed and looked fair, Its petals got shredded into countless pieces, The pollen grains flew in the air and fell in different places, And as they fell, they all cried, “murder!” But the bullet had no intention to surrender, The tattered flower petals fell on the ground, I realised there is a new gang called, “flower killers” and they abound, The bee and the butterfly desperately searched for their missing flower, And ah the pain they felt as a dismayed lover, Their wings dropped and they fell to ground like dead autumn leaves, Where except the bullet, even death grieves, The other flowers looked helplessly at the fallen youth and it's still falling memories, And in honour of the killed flower, they named their garden, the garden of tragedies, And to pay their homages, they all wilted on the same day, The garden looked barren even on a new Summer day, The bullet that killed the flower lies embedded in the fence, Same bullet that killed someone who possessed nothing in self defence, Continued in part 2...

Knock-knock on the door. ‘Beg pardon, your honour. Loblolly boy’s all in a mother, sir. Young Mr Ricketts has swallowed a musket-ball and they can’t get it out. Choking to death, sir, if you please.

Getting a nickname is a very common thing in Australia, and when your friends honour you with one, you don’t have a choice; you have to accept it. I knew a guy at school who was super thin, so he scored the nickname ‘Skin’, for ‘skinny’. My mother’s name is Shirley, but Dad only called her ‘Girl’ and hardly ever said her real name. Either it was because she always looked so young and pretty, or he was playing it safe to avoid slipping up and calling her by a different woman’s name when he was drunk.

So, what exactly did Ignita tell you about me?” he hissed, sounding decidedly peevish, even to his own ears. “All good?” “Besides that you are her favourite great-nephew by any measure under the suns –” wielding the foot-wide ladle with aplomb, she poured one last bucketful of dragonwort soup, a noted restorative, down his throat with a pleasant gurgle “– she said that you are honourable, faithful, creative, artistic, misunderstood, a Dragon whose heart lives in his poetry, which you have sadly neglected to admit to me; you are finicky to a fault, severely short-sighted and lacking in firepower.” Gnarr-rum-blasted-death! he swore unhappily. “Nice list. Thanks for sharing.” Blithely, the mite added, “Ignita is also furious that you did not come to her earlier with your eye problems.” Blitz said something even ruder. “She even claimed that I’m more stubborn than you, which I believe was meant to be a compliment. Now, hold still. The eye drops are next.” “She specifically said, ‘Lacking in fire power?’ ” He sighed moodily, unable to break the sense of being utterly defeated. This was not a happy place for a Dragon. His wings drooped as if they weighed a tonne each, and his food stomach churned with nausea. “She didn’t use words such as disabled, worthless, fireless lizard, witless fool, cold-hearted undraconic worm, a Dragon who is no Dragon at all, or –” “Blitz, stop.” “So, why don’t you just run back to Daddy, little Princess? Go on. Go home. Why be dragged down in the maelstrom of a worthless loser?” “Blitz! Shut your stupid fangs.” “Whinging being so charismatic in a Dragon …” Grinding her teeth furiously, the girl who was climbing his neck leaned over to his left upper ear canal and hissed, “Do you know what I would go back to, you thumping great moron? Let me give you the salient highlights. Since I was old enough to walk and my mother passed, it has been impressed upon me that my sole purpose in life is to get married to the richest fool I can charm into my bed, no matter how despicable he might be. I will not inherit. That privilege is for my brothers. Instead, I am merely an entry on my kingdom’s asset register – a very fat entry. I am commanded to be charming, accomplished and perfectly presented at all times. I go to balls to catch wealthy Princes. Can you imagine what it is like to be valued for your dark, beautiful skin, and nothing else? To only ever be seen skin-deep – I mean … you know?” Blitz groaned softly. “So aye, I don’t really want to go home, in case that was somehow unclear. I would rather live with an enormously unreasonable, complaining, crabby, haughty chunk of a Dragon, because among your many admirable qualities and your damnably beautiful honour, you have one gift I value above all others. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?” He croaked, “Of course, aye … sort of … not a whole lot. Sorry.” Nonsensical, but true. Warm moisture dripped into his ear. Crying! Oh, by his wings, what had he done now? The Princess whispered, “You see me, and accept me, just as I am.

I did a variety of things. I’m still ashamed of some of them. I finally became a mercenary. My life after that unfolded, as you might imagine, predictably. Victorious soldier, defeated soldier, marauder, robber, rapist, murderer, and finally a fugitive fleeing the noose. I fled to the ends of the world. And there, at the end of the world, I met a woman. A sorceress.” “Be careful,” whispered the Witcher, and his eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Vilgefortz, that the similarities you’re desperately searching for don’t lead you too far.” “The similarities are over,” said the sorcerer without lowering his gaze, “since I couldn’t cope with the feelings I felt for that woman. I couldn’t understand her feelings, and she didn’t try to help me with them. I left her. Because she was promiscuous, arrogant, spiteful, unfeeling and cold. Because it was impossible to dominate her, and her domination of me was humiliating. I left her because I knew she was only interested in me because my intelligence, personality and fascinating mystery obscured the fact that I wasn’t a sorcerer, and it was usually only sorcerers she would honour with more than one night. I left her because… because she was like my mother. I suddenly understood that what I felt for her was not love at all, but a feeling which was considerably more complicated, more powerful but more difficult to classify: a mixture of fear, regret, fury, pangs of conscience and the need for expiation, a sense of guilt, loss, and hurt. A perverse need for suffering and atonement. What I felt for that woman was hate.” Geralt remained silent. Vilgefortz was looking to one side. “I left her,” he said after a while. “And then I couldn’t live with the emptiness which engulfed me. And I suddenly understood it wasn’t the absence of a woman that causes that emptiness, but the lack of everything I had been feeling. It’s a paradox, isn’t it? I imagine I don’t need to finish; you can guess what happened next. I became a sorcerer. Out of hatred. And only then did I understand how stupid I was. I mistook stars reflected in a pond at night for those in the sky.” “As you rightly observed, the parallels between us aren’t completely parallel,” murmured Geralt. “In spite of appearances, we have little in common, Vilgefortz. What did you want to prove by telling me your story? That the road to wizardly excellence, although winding and difficult, is available to anyone? Even—excuse my parallel—to bastards or foundlings, wanderers or witchers—” “No,” the sorcerer interrupted. “I didn’t mean to prove this road is open to all, because that’s obvious and was proved long ago. Neither was there a need to prove that certain people simply have no other path.

Do not understand only the words; also understand their contexts since they illuminate you precisely. If you vote wisely, you won’t have to fight for your rights and peace everywhere. The political mafia is the mother of all mafias and often causes wars and uses vetoes to disrupt global peace. My every minute of life is for the entire humanity and human rights; it is a core prayer of all my prayers. What is a mafia, how do you understand it, and when do you overcome it? It is neither easy nor difficult; just be brave for your rights and never ignore them. No one can stand in front of your rights if you truly believe that. I have described the context of the mafia in the form of quotations that may guide and enlighten your life journey honourably. When a nation faces the Mafia Judiciary, which employs and applies an unfair way that fractures justice, the criminal mafia groups become licensed, and freehand is a juristic disaster. Wherever the medical, trade, business, media, and political interests of the mafia prevail, there is certainly neither a cure nor freedom possible nor justice nor peace. A vote holds not only significant power; it also carries a key to a system, essence to the welfare, surety to the career of a future generation, and a magnet to the stability of the state. The wrong choice or emotional pledge and favor of the vote-casting can indeed victimize a voter himself as a consequence. Realize this power and use it wisely, disregarding all external influences and tricks. Such a political party remains the proprietorship of a particular family, a rich circle, a corrupt mafia, or an establishment that accomplishes neither transparent democratic legitimacy nor fair democracy. Undoubtedly, such a party enforces majority dictatorship when it comes to power. It is mendacious dishonesty and severe corruption in a precise democratic voting context. I have been critical of the undemocratic rule, but now I think it may be the option of neutral law, but not martial law, which is essential for the stability and unity of Pakistan’s state, constitution, economy, and institutions to eliminate the democratic mafia and terror. International intelligence agencies and their hired ones avoid the weapons now; however, they utilize deadly chemicals to kill their rivals, whether high-level or low-level, whereas doctors diagnose that as a natural death. Virtually becoming infected and a victim of deathly diseases through chemicals is neither known publicly nor common. As a fact, the intelligence mafia can achieve and gain every task for their interests.

A few days ago I was at a private ball given by Mr Ashburnham. As my mother never goes out she entrusted me to the care of Lady Greville who did me the honour of calling for me in her way and of allowing me to sit forwards, which is a favour about which I am very indifferent especially as I know it is considered as conferring a great obligation on me. 'So Miss Maria' (said her Ladyship as she saw me advancing to the door of the carriage) 'you seem very smart tonight - My poor girls will appear quite to disadvantage by you - I only hope your mother may not have distressed herself to set you off. Have you a new gown on?' 'Yes Ma'am,' replied I with as much indifference as I could assume. 'Aye, and a fine one too I think -' (feeling it, as by her permission I seated myself by her) 'I dare say it is all very smart - But I must own, for you know I always speak my mind, that I think it was quite a needless piece of expense - Why could you not have worn your old striped one? It is not my way to find fault with people because they are poor, for I always think that they are more to be despised and pitied than blamed for it, especially if they cannot help it, but at the same time I must say that in my opinion your old striped gown would have been quite fine enough for its wearer - for to tell you the truth (( always speak my mind) I am very much afraid that one half of the people in the room will not know whether you have a gown on or not - but I suppose you intend to make your fortune tonight -: Well, the sooner the better; and I wish you success.' 'Indeed, Ma'am, I have no such intention -' 'Who ever heard a young lady own that she was a fortune-hunter?' Miss Greville laughed, but I am sure Ellen felt for me. 'Was you mother gone to bed before you left her?' said her Ladyship - 'Dear Ma'am, ' said Ellen, 'it is but nine o'clock.' 'True, Ellen, but candles cost money, and Mrs Williams is too wise to be extravagant.' 'She was just sitting down to supper, Ma'am -' 'And what had she got for Supper?' 'I did not observe.' 'Bread and cheese I suppose.' 'I should never wish for a better supper,' said Ellen. 'You have never any reason' replied her mother, 'as a better is always provided for you.' Miss Greville laughed excessively, as she constantly does at her mother's wit.

I am not your mother. “No one in this world can love that girl like her mother,” they told me, the day I tore out my hair to hold you. My hair, the raft lashed with pitch darts that kept you. My hair, the mantle against less honourable creatures who blow kisses with crusted lips. They measure you for marvelous coffins. My dead hair was never your shroud.   My hair is the hundred thousand wires of my love and it holds you safe. In its jungle, you are queen. In it, you learned that ink and blood and salt, these three, grow the truest trees.   I

A Letter to My Beloved Son As you land on this place called Earth Many things shall be unearthed As the sun rises, it is compelled to set Much as you are alive It may be for a while But the key things you require So, listen my child! Honour the gift of life Value your time Please be wise Opt to be the light Even on the darkest night Do not lose sight Of a future so bright Follow what is right For things to be alright Believe in Jesus Christ Let Him be your guide Pray without ceasing Know your calling Keep on dreaming You must believe That you will succeed You are part of me I must tell you no lies The world can be harsh sometimes Remember little one To keep moving forward You will reap great rewards And be very proud With love, your loving Mom

With Love from Your Mother A letter to a beloved child I birthed and looked after you Worked hard to raise you up I never had my own time You were my priority I had to give you security And the assurance that I am there For you, I wanted what was best For me, everything was all about you Now that you are older I pray your life gets better So, I am writing you this letter To tell you it does not matter What happened in the past Your future looks bright Things may not seem alright As I am not there Child, I am only here Because my days on Earth came to an end But, like an Angel in Heaven I will hold your hand Yes, I will cheer you on Declare your blessings And countless breakthroughs With love, your loving Mother

My Dearest Child I think of you so often And I know you are important Greatness is your nature A special gift I did not deserve You are my treasure And, this you must remember As you wake up in the morning To face another day Holding on to God’s hand Go on your knees May it be your prayer To be closer to your Maker Seek His glorious face Follow a Divine mandate As you run your race Honour His grace All your days So, when you get to Heaven one day You can meet the Almighty When you rest for eternity While on this Earth Be the best you could ever be My dearest child

It Is Well At times when you are unwell As you almost drown in a pool of tears Walk away from any distress And choose to say, ‘It is well.’ When life becomes so hard And the pain you face becomes too sharp When your days feel like cold nights Be the one to say, ‘It is well.’ When you wonder which way to take And you are unsure how you will get there When you go through myriad tests Trust the Lord and say, ‘It is well.’ When everything seems unfair And people begin to doubt the God you serve When you go through things you do not deserve Learn to say, ‘It is well.’ Things will not always go your way Because it is the Lord’s will that prevails That is why in every circumstance You should pray and say, ‘It is well.

Do Not Be Silent Encouraging words from a Loving Mother to her wonderful child There is greatness inside of you Allow your voice to be heard It is like medicine for the soul With healing power to the wounded Let your gifts take you through better doors Showcase your brilliant work to the world You can only get going after you have started So, invest in what is good for you Be an agent of transformation Help those in dire situations Lead others in the right direction Be part of the solution Choose to make a mark Open your mouth Say what is deep within your heart Do not be silent

Know Your Worth My child, you are favoured In Jesus’ precious Name Your blessings are abundant So, embrace your essence Wherever you are Keep moving forward Yes, you must rise While there is still time Make sure you shine Feel the sunshine Put on a big smile Avoid what makes you cry Never ever worry You carry God’s glory As you go through life’s journey Be spectacular Straighten your crown And know your worth

You Are Wonderfully Made You have a voice And certainly, a choice Speak out and let people listen To what you have to say Believe without a doubt That you are not average You can change the world Inside of you, there is greatness Yes, you must be great Your life should not be in vain For a purpose, you were created So, do not feel intimidated Go out there and be counted Among the best of the best Shine brighter and brighter Because you are wonderfully made

Be The Best I woke up every morning Saying an earnest prayer Asking the Angels to surround you To keep you safe wherever you go Remember to play your part Please be smart And wear your crown with pride Ensure you rise My precious child! Always follow the light When it gets dark at night Continue to shine where you are Look beyond the confines Touch the skies Make history You are not ordinary My own flesh and blood Be the best!

Be Great My Child This is your own journey I cannot tell so easily Exactly how to navigate But I am here to guide you Because I truly care And wish to see you prosper My darling, whatever life brings along Find ways to deal with it Acknowledge each season Pursue your God-given purpose Choose what is right Forget that which is not Be wiser as you grow old Live the best way you can Love yourself more and more Learn to embrace who you are Say a prayer each day Create beautiful memories Dream big and be happy Wake up, make your dreams a reality Walk towards prosperity And build a long-lasting legacy Whatsoever you do child, be great!

Soar Like An Eagle Please listen As I share with you child What is in my heart I want you to realize Your own potential So, think thoroughly Understand something Do not feed your enemies Dine in front of them Never hate your haters Love them instead Put up a good fight Remember you live once Avoid any regrets Choose to be great It is my sincere prayer That you soar like an eagle

You Are An Inspiration Inspiring words from an inspirational Mother to her child Walk this journey without hesitation Make a solemn declaration Have solid determination Until you reach your destination This process has no clear definition Therefore, make sound decisions Remember, the past has no revisions Child, have a clear vision This is what I envision As a candid resolution That you will be part of the solution When you embark on the Great Commission To accomplish the massive mission Seek the right information Celebrate your liberation Fear no limitation Pursue restoration Surpass any expectation And value your contribution Can I have a confirmation? Because you are an inspiration!

It Can Be Done An inspirational poem from a loving Mother to her child It can be done! Yes, we have to believe it We have seen God do miracles for others And we know He has power To turn the situation around It can be done! It does not matter what happened in the past It may seem impossible But highly possible To the Lord of all possibilities It can be done! Even if you have failed before You can still try once more Work until you are sure Of a better outcome It can be done! As long as you do it with passion Just go on your knees and say a prayer Make sure you prosper Because it can be done!

My Lovely Child Life has never been this great Since I had you, my superstar! My shining light in the night! In you, I found delight You captured my heart For making me proud By calling me Mom Oh, my ray of hope! Your beautiful story is not yet told But you are so bold One day, you will be in history books Because you know your worth To me, you mean a lot That is why I am content And will always protect The bond we have As much as I can I will hold your hand Until the end Be blessed, My lovely child!

Prayer Works Lessons from a prayerful Mother In the darkest hour of the night During the hardest time of life When unsure if things will be alright You should pray! When your mind lacks peace And your heart is too broken to beat When you struggle to stand on your feet You ought to pray! When some things do not make sense And everyone close becomes distant When your faith is shaken in an instant You must pray! When the sun is about to set And your noontime is filled with tears When midnight is covered with fear Wake up and pray! When on the battlefield And you seem to have lost your shield When there is no sign you could win Look upon the hills and pray! When the race becomes too long And you cannot keep going on When everything seems over Kneel and pray! For prayer will: Put you back together Set you in a good place forever Keep you going no matter what Give you something to smile about Remove the weight off your shoulders Relieve you of discomfort Heal even a gaping wound Help you follow the right way Take you through another day Each and every day Remember to pray Because prayer works!

God Bless The Queen Mother Ode to her Majesty God bless the Queen Mother Grant her many years of life We need her in our lives Show her everlasting love Cover her with power from Above God bless the Queen Mother A descendant of royalty As she goes in and out of the city To serve with loyalty and dignity May she have serenity God bless the Queen Mother Whether down the valley or up the hill On the battlefield, may she win Please keep her still As she honours your will God bless the Queen Mother Throughout seasons Wherever she goes And whatever she does Let her be favoured God bless the Queen Mother!

Our Mothers Your eyes see hope for tomorrow Your hearts are made of gold that many wish to borrow Your minds sharp enough for others follow Your hands ensure that children grow Your feet go places where some cannot know Your courage makes you stand where strong winds blow Your presence becomes warmth, regardless of the snow Your influence can be felt within a stone’s throw You hold nothing back for whom you protect You speak words with good intent You treat others with so much respect You fight and never retract You pursue a path that keeps your faith intact You fulfil dreams and make a significant impact You pass through tough times while remaining steadfast You conquer battles as you pray and fast You instil discipline that becomes a great shield You serve others until they succeed You give inspiration among those who bleed You understand that you are rearing a rare breed You plant and nurture the right seed You help attract breakthroughs with speed You care for those in need You touch lives, indeed You lead your own to be great every step of the way You play your role very well, even without a pay You smile as if every day is your pay day You exude wisdom and put it on full display You save generations from going astray You run your race just like in a relay You pass the baton with no delay You carry so much worth as you get to be gray Hence, we salute you, our Mothers

God Bless My Darling Child This is from your dear Mother Who expected you for months Sometimes feeling distressed and exhausted Though excited about carrying another soul Eyes watched how she gained weight Tummy bulging with time Cravings shooting sky high Conduct, a little bit unusual She had many questions in mind Said endless prayers for you Believed God for your safe arrival Hoped for your survival Wished you become a responsible human And a respectable woman like her The brightest without fear Great in this world When she saw your face for the first time She embraced her treasure Looked at you and declared ‘God bless my darling child.

I Can Only Imagine A special Eulogy to my adorable Mother I can only imagine How you may have felt That very day you left Not knowing how your children would fend for themselves Thank God He made provision for them I can only imagine The questions you had A few hours before you departed From wondering when you would take your last breath To trying to understand how your loved ones would react I can only imagine That unforgettable day When we witnessed your transition to Heaven I still wonder how you went But I remember your peaceful smile Even as you steadily waved goodbye I can only imagine The place where you are now Filled with nothing but joy As you forget the sorrow of this world While you admire the beauty of Paradise I can only imagine!

I Can Only Imagine A special Eulogy to my adorable Mother I can only imagine How you may have felt That very day you left Not knowing how your children would fend for themselves Thank God He made provision for them I can only imagine The questions you had A few hours before you departed From wondering when you would take your last breath To trying to understand how your loved ones would react I can only imagine That unforgettable day When we witnessed your transition to Heaven I still wonder how you went But I remember your peaceful smile Even as you steadily waved goodbye I can only imagine The place where you are now Filled with nothing but joy As you forget the sorrow of this world While you admire the beauty of Paradise I can only imagine!

Grateful For You A gratitude poem from a Mother to her miracle child You are a wonderful treasure My love for you, I cannot measure In you, God gave me an Angel Through you, I was blessed by the Heavens An answered prayer of way back Just when I thought it was over My precious gift from Above, you showed up Filled with your bright smile and loads of fun You make me so fine Oh, what a privilege in life To be given such a sense of pride As I call you my child While you chose to be mine You are so kind You bring me hope every time I could go through heavy tides With you by my side I always rise You help me make long strides I cannot drown, not even once You give me a better chance To become a daring Mom I have peace, even in the storm Because you teach me to stay strong So glad you came along Never let me all alone What an honour to be your Mother! My perfect match Such a great catch! My very best friend Will you lend me a hand To walk beside you on this land? You are all I ever need And I am so grateful for you

My Precious Child If I had pearls or petalites Few emeralds Countless tanzanite Some diamonds Sizeable gold And granite If I had all of these On my hands All over my place Signed under my name Would that replace you? No way, not at all You are a special being in my life Positioned by God’s Divine design A gift that I treasure Oh, no! I cannot chase after fortune I am the most fortunate To be your Mother Yes, you make my days shine brighter I embrace the bliss you brought along Through you, I gained wisdom Among other things in this world You carry so much worth With you, I found wealth That is why I appreciate you For so many reasons Throughout the seasons We have been winning Hence, I need you so much My precious child

Extraordinary Woman A token of appreciation to my beloved Mother You are beautiful Undeniably great Nature’s most amazing gift Your smile is worth a million bucks You shine like a star Your presence brings calm Your laughter brightens my day Your kindness warms my nights I am fortunate to call you Mom In you, I see an angel Under whose wings I remain safe All because you are so great What can one do to appreciate Such an amazing Soul Who fights like a warrior For the sake of her children You wake up each morning Ensuring that things are in the right place There is no way one can ever replace Such an extraordinary woman

You Are So Wonderful You lay bare your brain for others to learn Great lessons you always share From you, there is so much to hear Your head is crowned with wisdom You show the world how things are done I call your name with pride My love for you I cannot hide You have a heart that is never weak It does not break, it only bends When you land into hardships You find a way to rise You manage to put on a smile Stand back up and walk another mile Despite any pain life I am yet to meet someone of your calibre With so much courage to endure And the patent instincts of a survivor Oh, woman of valour! You need no stamp of approval from anyone Because victory is your birth right Superwoman, you are so wonderful

The Sacred Place of A Loving Mother It felt so unreal The atmosphere surreal Yet, you had serenity As you said your final goodbyes With conviction, you waved at us Until you gave your last breath That was the end of you on Earth Years go by and I realise I hope to see you one more time So, I keep looking around Your departure left in me a gaping wound That wound sometimes bleeds No matter how much I try to hide it I cannot help but long for you Mommy Your beautiful smile calmed my nerves Your warm presence gave me calmness Your gentle kindness changed who I am Your wealth of wisdom helped me grow Your staunch support kept me strong Your sincere sacrifices brought me hope Your powerful prayers made me a conqueror If you could hear my voice I would whisper the words “I love you.” If you could see my face You would realise that I miss you If you could look at me now You would understand how much I need you If you could notice my tears I know you would wipe them there and there If you could get closer to me You would give me a hug and say, “It is okay.” Because right now, I feel it is not Mama! Deep in my heart, there is a vacuum A vacuum that no one can ever fill Every time I am at crossroads I wonder what you would say or do Living next to you was a great blessing You were an amazing parent to me And you will always be my inspiration In sadness, I recall how you prayed In happiness, I recount how you praised the Lord In the wilderness, I remember how you trusted God It is still hard to believe you are gone I will cherish you forever My loving Mother No one can ever take your sacred place

My Loving Mother I keep thinking of you out of nowhere I continue talking about you everywhere When days go by, when I am anywhere I wish you would appear from somewhere Though I know you have gone elsewhere Your departure left me feeling empty My heart has been heavy For I have been lonely I hold your memories closely Because you made life a bit cosy Things are not the same, without you in this world I miss the moments of prayer we shared The guidance from your end Precept upon precept Losing you is something hard to accept The silent wishes you had for me The stories you told about your folks The wonderful chats we used to have It is all gone, gone for good Just like you did Yet I appreciate That you have been great And no one can ever take Your special place My loving Mother

I Love You Mama You ran on the right lane You knew that you are in a race You became my happy place You brightened my face You kept me in your gentle embrace You taught me how to live with grace You became a powerful woman I could emulate You ought to be celebrated in essence You are truly a woman of substance You and brilliance belong to the same sentence You filled my space with a sweet fragrance You lit the room with your presence You raised me with a clear conscience You gave me profound guidance Your teachings, I still preserve Your prayers, I will treasure Your impact, I shall not forget Your commitment, I felt But, I now have to accept that you left Here is what I want you to know I love you, Mama!

If It Were Possible For a loving Mother If it were possible I would write you a letter Send it to the Heavens Just so you could read And realise how much I love you If it were possible I would get you flowers As a token of appreciation For all the great things you have done for me And the difference you made in my life If it were possible I would sit down next to you Have a deep conversation Perhaps to hear your current thoughts And listen to your guidance again If it were possible I would spend time with you Celebrate your presence Miss no precious moment And make sure it counts the most However, it is not possible Hence, I have no choice But to accept that you are gone

You Have Done Your Best A token of appreciation for an amazing Mother I remember our expectations of you We knew you would take care of us Yet we forgot you had your needs too We never thought in our little minds You could be sad sometimes Or be happy at other times You were good at hiding your emotions Because you were always in motion Making sure we had provision Oh, Mother, yours was a great vision To you, we were the priority You wanted to see us prosper To date, we still wonder How one could be so selfless That about her own life, she cared less Through you, we were so blessed We sometimes look back and are amazed At how you managed to make things happen We still do not have the answers All we know is that you have done your best!

I Love You Mama You ran in the right lane You knew that you were in a race You became my happy place You brightened my face You kept me in your gentle embrace You taught me how to live with grace You became a powerful woman I could emulate You ought to be celebrated in essence You are truly a woman of substance You and brilliance belong to the same sentence You filled my space with a sweet fragrance You lit the room with your presence You raised me with a clear conscience You gave me profound guidance Your teachings, I still preserve Your prayers, I will treasure Your impact, I shall not forget Your commitment, I felt But, I now have to accept that you left Here is what I want you to know I love you, Mama!

If you hear in my voice—I don’t know that it is so, but I hope it is—if you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice that once was sweet music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in touching my hair, anything that recalls a beloved head that lay on your breast when you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I hint to you of a Home that is before us, where I will be true to you with all my duty and with all my faithful service, I bring back the remembrance of a Home long desolate, while your poor heart pined away, weep for it, weep for it!” She held him closer round the neck and rocked him on her breast like a child. “If, when I tell you, dearest dear, that your agony is over, and that I have come here to take you from it, and that we go to England to be at peace and at rest, I cause you to think of your useful life laid waste, and of our native France so wicked to you, weep for it, weep for it! And if, when I shall tell you of my name, and of my father who is living, and of my mother who is dead, you learn that I have to kneel to my honoured father, and implore his pardon for having never for his sake striven all day and lain awake and wept all night, because the love of my poor mother hid his torture from me, weep for it, weep for it! Weep for her, then, and for me! Good gentlemen, thank God! I feel his sacred tears upon my face, and his sobs strike against my heart. O, see! Thank God for us, thank God!

Music to heal: To heal problems related to children, honour, getting a position in life, relationships with father and government - Raag Tanpura, Raag Shadbhinna, Raag Darbari To heal mental peace, relations with mother, happiness, calmness, family atmosphere, emotional trauma and pain - Raag Sudh, Raag Komal, Raag Yaman, Hansdhawani To heal property realated issues, blood related problems, violence and accidents - Bhairvai, Asavi, Thodi To heal education related troubles, fights with siblings, throid and hormonal imbalance, communication, business, friends - Gandharva, Kalyan, Poorvi To heal relationship issues, money related troubles - Nat Bhairav, Brindabani Sarang Lack of happiness, motivation, purpose, intagible happiness missing - Raag Shudha Profession problems, long term diseases, chronic troubles - Jaunpuri, Kirwani, Neelambri

A grey squirrel is crouched at the back of the cage. She is utterly still, as if she thinks they will not see her. The black orbs of her eyes gleam, gathering together all the light of the forest into two pristine points. She’s fat, isn’t she, Dad? She’s going to have babies, Dickie says, then wishes he hadn’t, suddenly remembering what the point of this is. He offers the sack to PJ. Do you want to do the honours? The boy doesn’t move, seems to dwindle in some incalculable way. Dickie sighs. You understand why we have to do this? PJ swallows. He is staring at the squirrel in the cage. The babies will have pox, the pox will kill the baby reds. If she has her babies, everything will get worse. But it’s not her fault, PJ says in a shaky voice. What? It’s not her fault she has pox. No, it’s not her fault. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just nature. But if we don’t kill the greys, then the reds will die. And they’ll die out completely. You see? You’re killing them by not taking action. He rests the cage into the sack, reaches in to undo the latch. The boy covers his face with his hands. But he has to understand, sometimes doing what is right means having to make hard choices. It’s the whole reason they’re out here, so he can teach him these tough lessons. Lessons. For a moment he is back in the summer garden, among the lilies and azaleas, fists swinging fruitlessly through the air, his father dancing in front of him, always somehow out of reach. He sighs again. Tell you what, he says. He sets the sack down on the ground and lifts out the cage and opens the door. The squirrel remains in a huddle at the back. He picks it up again and shakes it gently. Finally the squirrel tumbles out and dashes, with her load, her mother-load, zigzagging through the trees. Till she is gone.

I’m better now,” Alex insisted. “I don’t think I’m going to come across much more that’ll make me change the design again. I’m pretty sure Lord Smasho the First is coming into his final shape.” “No!” Selina shouted. “No, not that name!” “Alex, I swear on my mother and father’s honour,” Khalik warned him. “If you name your war golem ‘Lord Smasho the First,’ I will pick you up and toss you into the sea myself, then blindfold Grimloch and tell him there’s a wounded seal for him to eat in the waters.” “Alright, alright, jeez! I was joking!” Alex said, laughing. “Come on, guys, it’s just a joke! Even I wouldn’t name a golem something stupid like Lord Smasho the First.” Selina and Khalik exchanged glances. Later that evening, Alex Roth opened his golem-building notebook, flipped to the page that had his list of potential names and crossed out Lord Smasho the First.

To those whose eyes may fall on these lines, may I not be excused saying, 'See to it that you honour your father and your mother, not only that your days may be long in the land, but that you may not, in after years, be disturbed by useless longings to have back again the precious ones who so ceaselessly and unselfishly toiled with heart and brain for your profoundest well-being.

Chanakya has considered the Mother who gives birth to you, the Brahmin, who performs your religious thread ceremony, the Guru, who teaches you, the person, who feeds you and one who dispels fear, having the status of your Father. He says man should be indebted to them and should always respect/honour them.

To those whose eyes may fall on these lines, may I not be excused saying, 'See to it that you honour your father and your mother, not only that your days may be long in the land, but that you may not, in after years, be disturbed by useless longings to have back again the precious ones who so ceaselessly and unselfishly toiled with heart and brain for your profoundest well-being.

Prayer Works Lessons from a prayerful Mother In the darkest hour of the night During the hardest time of life When unsure if things will be all right You should pray! When your mind lacks peace And your heart is too broken to beat When you struggle to stand on your feet You ought to pray! When some things do not make sense And everyone close becomes distant When your faith is shaken in an instant You must pray! When the sun is about to set And your noontime is filled with tears When the midnight is covered with fear Wake up and pray! When in the battlefield And you have misplaced your shield When there is no sign you could win Look upon the hills and pray! When the race becomes too long And you cannot keep going on When everything seems over Kneel and pray! For prayer will: Put you back together Set you in a good place forever Keep you going no matter what Give you something to smile about Remove the weight off your shoulders Relieve you from discomfort Heal even a gaping wound Help you follow the right way Take you through another day Each and everyday Remember to pray Because prayer works!

My Lovely Child Life has never been this great Since I had you my superstar! My shining light in the night! In you, I found delight You captured my heart For making me proud By calling me Mom Oh, my ray of hope! Your beautiful story is not yet told But you are so bold One day, you will be in history books Because you know your worth To me you mean a lot That is why I am content And will always protect The bond that we have As much as I can I will hold your hand Until the end Be blessed my lovely child!

It Is Well At times when you are unwell As you almost drown in a pool of tears Walk away from any distress And choose to say, ‘It is well’ When life becomes so hard And the pain you face is too sharp When your days feel like cold nights Be the one to say, ‘It is well’ When you wonder which way to take And you are unsure how you will get there When you go through myriad tests Trust the Lord and say, ‘It is well’ When everything seems unfair As people begin to doubt the God you serve When you go through things, you do not deserve Learn to say, ‘It is well’ Things will not always go your way Because it is God’s will that prevails That is why in every circumstance You should pray and say ‘it is well

You Are an Inspiration Inspiring words of an inspirational Mother to her child Walk this journey without hesitation Make a solemn declaration Have solid determination Until you reach your destination This process has no clear definition Therefore, you must take sound decisions Remember the past has no revisions Child, have a clear vision That is what I envision As a candid resolution That you will be part of the solution When you embark on the Great Commission To accomplish the massive mission Seek the right information Celebrate your liberation Fear no limitation Pursue restoration Surpass any expectation Value your contribution Can I have a confirmation? Because you are an inspiration!

God Bless My Darling Child This is from your dear Mother Who expected you for months Sometimes feeling distressed and exhausted Though excited, from carrying another Soul Eyes watched how she gained weight Tummy bulging with time Cravings shooting sky high Conduct, a little bit unusual She had many questions in mind Said endless prayers for you Believed God for a safe arrival Hoped for your survival Wishing you become a responsible human And a respectable woman like her The brightest without fear Great in this world When she saw your face for the first time She embraced her treasure Yearned for what was best She looked at you and declared ‘God bless my darling child

The Priceless Job of Motherhood God of Heaven! I am here on Earth To follow a Divine mandate Of being a loving Mother I know I have no strength To this on my own I pray for your wisdom So, I can carry this task Without a fright As I raise these children Please help me remember I was never hired for this role But highly favoured, to find myself in it Hence, I acknowledge this privilege Lord, I lift my hands And bow to Your Majestic name I say from the top of my voice Thank you Father For the priceless job of Motherhood!

If I die in the war, please never give my gun to my son. Instead, give him his mother's hoe. Let him feed the rest of the family. Never expose my son to a war in the North if he belongs to the South. After I die, whoever uses the gun powder next, wins the battle. The dead has no property, no honour, no peace and no more chances. If my son has a bloodline of the South, he will never come to my grave yard to cry. Instead, he understands that if the guns truely belong to mankind we will never die in the war. Weapon is made for weapon. It does not have respect for the buyer. The heart of a fighter is filled with pains and undeserved hatred. If the hatred is not default, then there is no need for war. No matter how justified we are and win, we have committed a crime. Hatred will bleed on. War cannot determine who is superior, only who is foolish. No desire is worth blood of a mankind. People commit war crimes. The real trouble with war is that people really don't understand what they get after the war is over. Majority don't kill the right people, they also descend to kill the PEACEMAKERS. None of my son will die in a war. If I die they will bury my gun. Their love for PEN and PAPER is a passionate metal. Never will I accept war if I am not involve with mankind. My dear sons, never you trust a politician. Everything a politician says are lies. He does everything for himself and has no regard for your life. Government may change but their lies will remain the same. If I were a president, I am sure I'm a fatherless son. Mankind are always malfunctioning and can never recover. Never you go into a war. The battle is not between mankind. It is of PRINCIPALITIES

Grateful for you You are a wonderful treasure. My love for you I cannot measure. In you, God gave me an Angel. Through you, I got blessed by the Heavens. An answered prayer of way back. Just when I thought it was all over. My precious gift from above, You showed up! Filled with your bright smile. And loads of fun. You make me so fine. Oh! What a privilege in life. Being given such sense of pride. To call you my child, And that you chose to be mine. You have been too kind, To give me hope, every time. I could go through heavy tides. With you by my side, I always rise. You help me make so many strides. Shall never drown, not even once. For you always give me a better chance. To become a daring Mom. I have peace, even in the storm, Because you help me stay strong. So glad you came along. And never left me, all alone. It’s a great honour to be your Mother. My perfect match. Such a great catch! My very best friend. Will you lend me a hand? To walk beside you on this land. For you are what I ever needed. And I am so grateful for you.

Grateful For You A gratitude poem from a Mother to her miracle child You are a wonderful treasure My love for you I cannot measure In you, God gave me an Angel Through you, I was blessed by the Heavens An answered prayer of way back Just when I thought it was over My precious gift from Above, you showed up! Filled with your bright smile and loads of fun You make me so fine Oh, what a privilege in life! Of being given such a sense of pride As I call you my child While you chose to be mine You are so kind You bring me hope every time I could go through heavy tides With you by my side I always rise You help me to make many strides I cannot drown, not even once You give me a better chance To become a daring Mom I have peace, even in the storm Because you teach me to stay strong So glad you came along And never left me all alone What an honour to be your Mother! My perfect match Such a great catch! My very best friend Will you lend me a hand To walk beside you on this land? You are all I ever need And I am so grateful for you

She took her mother to mean: look at those men landing on the moon, look at what's possible given desire and belief and opportunity, and you have all of those if you want them, if they can do it you can do it, and by it I mean anything. Anything. Don't squander a life so miraculously given, since I, your mother, could just as easily have been with my mother that day at the market if any number of tiny things had been different, and I would have been among the youngest of the victims of the atomic bomb and circumstance could have killed me and you would never have been born. But you were born, and here we are, and here are these men on the moon, so you see, you are on the winning side, you are winning, and perhaps you can live a life that honours and furthers that?

LIFE Opinions are always challenged The great ocean of society with literature from all over the world, still brings us the challenge of where did we come from, how long has the human race been here?, is there life in space?, is there life after death?, was there life before birth?, we are born as children who cannot walk speak, we have no teeth, and yet we are the most beautiful thing in the world to family and friends and stranger alike, then the immortal question here dear friends is, why do people perceive old people as ugly in the form of a child they have returned to , is this not natural events of life and we should show greater compassion for the elderly for they live in fear not only being old but some of them loose the ability to even communicate, if an old men pees in the street automatically people looking on him as rude and uncultured and a tyke, yet if a mother brought a little child to the side of the road to pee all the onlookers say ohh look how cute he is, this is the paradox of life, just because there is middle section that gathers great knowledge and confidence of life, this fades as the years progress and finally we become like children again, and yet when we were children our parents looked after us fed us cloths us bathed us took us to the doctors, and made sure we were safe and secure at all times and as a bonus they you used to inspire us to thing positive and be something great in life so in return we can serve society, then when our parents become old we must not abandon them, even if they are able and active a simple phone call can make their day, a simple I love you can lift their spirits,a sudden surprise calling unexpectedly on them will make them feel loved and wanted, it is showing them they are loved when they least expect it, it is showing them that you care and without them you could not even be here, we must always honour our parents for all the sacrifices they have made for us, this sacrifice does not ask the status of the family you come from there is a law of nature that says mother is a mother and they sacrifice give a kind word a hug to older people who cannot walk or they are struggling in life they are already broken do not break them even more with your looks that says many negative things, look upon them as love, look upon them as they have paid the price for all the sacrifices they have made to family and country and the world, it is true they were never perfect, and they have made many mistakes in their journey of life, and no doubt they have many regrets as well as tender memories, imagine for a second you are in their shoes and you are looking back on life through a broken body that is preparing itself for the great city in the sky, for surely this is what it is to be old especially very old be gentle with old people they deserve our, love, compassion and respect

I The useless dawn finds me in a deserted street- corner; I have outlived the night. Nights are proud waves; darkblue topheavy waves laden with all the hues of deep spoil, laden with things unlikely and desirable. Nights have a habit of mysterious gifts and refusals, of things half given away, half withheld, of joys with a dark hemisphere. Nights act that way, I tell you. The surge, that night, left me the customary shreds and odd ends: some hated friends to chat with, music for dreams, and the smoking of bitter ashes. The things my hungry heart has no use for. The big wave brought you. Words, any words, your laughter; and you so lazily and incessantly beautiful. We talked and you have forgotten the words. The shattering dawn finds me in a deserted street of my city. Your profile turned away, the sounds that go to make your name, the lilt of your laughter: these are the illustrious toys you have left me. I turn them over in the dawn, I lose them, I find them; I tell them to the few stray dogs and to the few stray stars of the dawn. Your dark rich life ... I must get at you, somehow; I put away those illustrious toys you have left me, I want your hidden look, your real smile -- that lonely, mocking smile your cool mirror knows. II What can I hold you with? I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs. I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon. I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in bronze: my father's father killed in the frontier of Buenos Aires, two bullets through his lungs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his soldiers in the hide of a cow; my mother's grandfather --just twentyfour-- heading a charge of three hundred men in Peru, now ghosts on vanished horses. I offer you whatever insight my books may hold, whatever manliness or humour my life. I offer you the loyalty of a man who has never been loyal. I offer you that kernel of myself that I have saved, somehow --the central heart that deals not in words, traffics not with dreams, and is untouched by time, by joy, by adversities. I offer you the memory of a yellow rose seen at sunset, years before you were born. I offer you explanations of yourself, theories about yourself, authentic and surprising news of yourself. I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat. (Two English Poems)

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