I Could Not Forget Her (Part-Ii)

I remembered her back as I was in her lap more,
She unexpectedly crossed the life boat and shore.
From her core of heart, fell pure affection for me
Still I wandered in path playing life I could not see.

Before she left she called, 'come on eat sweet rice, '
Showing moon last night she did feed me thrice.
With pot-herb fry and rice full of palm with salt,
She did feed telling many stories of Indian epic cult.

She called all brothers, sisters, relatives and father,
'I am really very fine for me all at all do not bother.
Life is like this only sometimes blooms, does wither,
Without hesitation and sorrow you all live better.'

She worried for me and my sister thinking younger,
Advised without her time to adjust, become stronger.
No longer was she in strength she was getting a pain,
The rivers and streams were flooded it was heavy rain.

Looked at sky and she said, 'Oh children you do adore,
God who sent you near me will take care in open door.
Whoever may tell what you must tolerate all of them,
Whatever they will give you eat in pleasure of name.'

'Do not fall down from righteousness and true track,
Nowhere victory comes in life due to courage lack.'
She advised many more things at her last time to all,
Reminding God's words of humanity she did soon fall.

The mercury of life went away shining body of mother,
She was no more for time I looked at her face further.
I cried out of agony with still stood in courage to right,
I could not forget her, my beloved mom was soul light.

by Kumarmani Mahakul

Comments (8)

Good teachings always recollect the good passed teachers and their name make inscribe in heart as solem inscription of epitaph /// nice series
how much more could any one write to remember mum...God bless you
Beautiful Part II, you are amazing my friend!
a fine followup to part one. the only part i had 'real trouble with' was knowing if you meant cult or culture. i know you said cult, and that may be correct. in the u.s. cult often has a negative connotation and does not mean the same as culture. thanks again for the rhymes and for the story. i wonder if any poets ever write about their fathers. hmm? bri ;)
beautiful is your love to mom and your words/ thanks to share
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