This Mother’s Heart



A boy of six, was he when
Was left with his mother, only then
A good loving son was he
Best friends with her, as could be
Praises he sang of her, morning and night
Spoke highly of her, with all delight
 
Friends others, he had plenty
Scoundrels and rogues, they were but twenty
So jealous of him were they all
Tired with his daily brawls
"A mother like that, it can't be true.
Put her to a test and see it fall through.
Heart of hers, given to you has she,
So carve it out and bring for us all, to see.
Then we'll believe, your mothers love,
So pure and divine, like the graceful dove."
A challenge they put upon him
Went running to her, with a face so grim
 
"Mother, mother", he rushed indoor
Found her asleep, on the cold wooden floor
Shook her awoke, did he in a hurry
Didn't notice her body, in fever was bury
Her sickness and worry, she forgot it all
Being awakened, by her innocent sons call
Pulled him close, hugged him tight
For she sensed him filled with plight
Tears rolled down his small sullen face
Made his mothers heart, badly ache
 
"Its all right son, its all right.
The worlds very big and all do fight.
No one can harm or frighten you,
Just look up and pray into the sky so blue.
Your mother am I,
Shall be with you, till I die.
Will love you everyday and night,
Protect you, even if I have to fight.
I have nothing to give, have given it all,
But shall be with you, till I do fall.
So tell me son, tell me what is it,
Tell me, what bothers my tiny kid"

"Mother you love me, that I can see,
You have given me all, all that could be.
But I need to show the world, the mother I got,
I need to prove, that your love, hasn't its purity lost.
Have never asked anything of thee,
I need your heart, give it to me"
 
"My heart has always been with you.
It's for you to believe and see it too.
I know not, what more I can do,
To make you feel, my love so true.
Lies upon the table is a knife,
Bring it to me and I will give you my life"
Picked up the razor and into her hands did he land
She carved out her heart and placed it, into his trembling hands
"Go my son, off you go,
You now have my heart to show"
 
Dashed out into the fields did he
To meet his so called friends, to see
The night was cold, the wind unstirred
The full moon seemed so dark and blurred
Running so fast, he stumbled on a rock
The heart too fell, from his tiny hands lock
Bruised was his knee and bled did he
Tears rolled down, his muddy little cheek
A voice he heard, a voice so sweet
"My darling son, I hope you don't hurt nor weep"
He looked around and found not a soul
Lay the heart bleeding, on the ground, in the hole
He picked it up and wiped it clean
He heard it again, it sounded like a dream
"Cry not my son, cry not.
The world is very big, forget it not.
If you bleed , I bleed with you,
If you cry, I cry with you.
Wherever you go, I will be with you.
That's all now, that I can do.
So be strong and do me right,
Never give up without a fight.
Go my son, go and prove,
That a mother loves, is all belief and true"

Ran limping back to his mother, did he
Forgot that, ended her life for him, had she
"Mother, mother", he rushed indoor
Found her asleep, on the cold wooden floor
Shook her awoke, did he in a hurry
Didn't notice her body, in blood was bury
A smile lay across her sullen face
She had died with such wonderful grace
A mother she was, a mother no one can be
Only later he realized, how lonely was he
He vowed never to let her die
Carved out his own heart and placed hers inside
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Written on June 02, 1999

Submitted by Maheshw on July 29, 2021

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:39 min read
5

Quick analysis:

Scheme aabbcc bbdxeebbffgg HHBbddccix cceejjccddxx bbkxbb eeeellxxmm bbcxnnbxxxooxxkkeeeeccxe bbHHBbiibbjx
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 3,477
Words 722
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 6, 12, 10, 12, 6, 10, 24, 12

Mahesh Wadhwani

I always apologize for the length of my text as that’s the best way for me to communicate rather than verbally!! Not a man of many words but still manage to doodle when in mood to write, which is rare!! I am not even sure if what I scribble is poetry or even what form or just words that rhyme!! To me writing is an art, a sign of creativity and a means of expression. I don't really think that anyone can just write without any feelings, without having felt, without having lived, experienced or cherished. Whatever one writes, there is some amount of a persons own feelings and presence or of those around them, indicated in the works. So I am thankful to all the people in my life and those yet to come for having given me life, love, happiness and even pain. At-least I have had the opportunity to feel it , live it and express it, whatever it maybe. Cheers! more…

All Mahesh Wadhwani poems | Mahesh Wadhwani Books

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