Mother Daughter Poems Love Mga Nobela at Kwento

"I'm glad." We stand at the window together and the city does its thing and she puts her arm through mine and we watch the room behind us in the reflection of the glass, all these people dancing and talking and being present in this particular April evening, and I feel the complicated specific love of a daughter for a mother who failed her and tried and is still trying, and I think that this is also arriving, this too, the two of us standing at a window with our arms linked. "I'm going to need you," I say. "When Clara comes. I'm going to need my mother."

‘She abandoned her child for five years and now she wanted him to praise her? "Change to another one," Jay snapped. Baby Robbie started reciting another poem called The Song of the Wanderer without thinking about it. “The fine lines on Mother’s hands. The clothes of the wanderer’s clothes.” ... It was yet another poem of maternal love.

“I’m sure she’d be disappointed in me too.” My words hit the air—heavy. The woman paused and then she said, her voice tightening. “Let me guess your father is an annoying prick who thinks you’d never be enough.” I flinched. “You see,” she began, “mothers do not love their kids like that. Why do you think no love is greater than a mother?” Her voice thickened. “Whether you’re a failure or not, handsome or not, rich or poor—a mother always loves her child.”

Love, Momma and Daddy

It makes you do all those silly things; you lose yourself because you don't exercise boundaries and limitations. “Love? I saw love destroy my mother; I saw her beg my father's family to accept her and me, and now she’s still hoping to get approval even at her dying moments.” My mother is damned with love, and I will ensure I’m not sharing the same fate. Love is my mother’s religion; she even said her reward is when she’s in heaven. What a shame to be a prisoner of love despite all the pain and agony it caused her. “You think love is just rainbows and butterflies, do you? Well, your mother is a true hero, bearing the dark side of love.”

"Mom I can't. I'm getting married soon and I won't be able to produce a child to show for it. This is all my fault" "No sweetie, you ain't to blame for this. It's true that you may have done series of abortion but you can still have kids" "How Mom? How? Didn't you hear what the doctor said,'I can't bear children. My womb is damaged'. What don't you understand? I'm barren" "C'mon dear, don't say that. There is still time to..." "Mom, I'm barren" "Please stop crying my dear. Everything will be okay"

“Honestly, Emilianna. Would you blame me? I've walked this life wanting love but what to do when I don't find it? I can't just kill myself for it now. Can I?” “Listen Sweetheart, love isn't in a person. It's in the things you do. If you want to make yourself feel loved, it could be as simple as doing your hair so dancing in the moonlight. It could be as simple as cooking your favourite food. Love is within and all around you, it's nothing that you have to chase.” “You're right.” I said calmly and she caressed my hair. “For tonight, assume we are mother and daughter. Tell me the things you would only talk to your mother about, and I will treat your as my daughter.”

Keisha felt emotional hearing her mother's words. "Please don't take it the wrong way, my dear, I don't know when I'll be gone; no one does. But I'm happy because before I leave this world, I know my children are in good hands, and besides, even if I wake up one day and can't remember you, always remember that you're here in my heart. I love you all so much," "We love you too, Ma," the mother and daughter became emotional, but it was replaced with happiness as they were together as a family, making memories.