May 12

FUNERAL FLOWERS : AN EMBLEM OF REMEMBRANCE

1 comment

Edited: Aug 26

 

 

 

 

Mother!

O’ Mother , let me offer you my garland of water petals

Which I interlace with my deepest pain

Soul flowers which blooms in May summer

Yet sympathy , I grieved , couldn't knit chain of white lilies.

 

Mother!

O ‘ Mother let me offer you my solemn love

Which I collected in my little palms , with my hardest spirit

White flowers which powerfully denotes your purity and sacredness

Yet today , I have no courage to grieve with such traditional flower .

 

Mother!

O’ Mother let me offer you bouquet of carnation, on your grave

Which I pluck with my blood and flesh to grace thy honour

Those red flowers which bloom, to calm dead soul in heaven

Yet, , today I preserve my heartache journey to reward thou glory.

 

Mother !

O ’Mother let me offer you chain of gladiolus

Which I weave with my love and compassion

Flower which embraces elegance and grandeur of your divine face

Let me keep your head up , with your beautiful representation

 

Mother!

O mother ,

Let me bestow my delicate mourning , with strength and unique character

Which I bequeath with pearls of roses , chrysanthemum and sapphire of hyacinth

Forget me not , for I tend to shy away from my sensitive emotions

Mother , O mother let me weep silently with my half heart , on your lap of grave!

 

 

Poet’s Thoughts:

The poem which is written to mourn on the death of her beloved mother. A little daughter who craves to offer handful of flowers on her mother’s grave because of traditional and customary rules . Weeping daughter tries hard to reach her mother’s soul and allowed to attend her own mother’s funeral . The poem depicts the harsh nature of society on side , on the other love of her mother after her demise and pleading Godmother let her meet with her mother’s soul at grave to offer her funeral flowers , pay her tribute and imprint an emblem of remembrance in loving memory of her mother.

 

 

 

#MothersDay #MotherLove #MotherandDaughter #DeathAnniversary #26August

 

 

@Priyanka S Raj (MAHI)

@Realistic Poetry International @Realistic Poetry

twitter : @mahipriyankaraj

©CopyRight2019. All Rights are Reserved.

This poem is heartfelt and a great example of the connection between a daughter and her mother. It uses symbolism with the indication of the flowers, reflects love, and embraces pain. The pain of losing someone as irreplaceable as a mom is a difficult reality to face. Than you so much for sharing!

New Posts
  • We’ve entered a foggy time Where only the insane are truly free Politicians thrive With agendas where their brains should be. Where “dialogue” is shouted curses Wielded like dull-edged swords And our defense against this loud banality Our faces sunken into phones, terminally bored. We no longer slouch towards Bethlehem But think its existence is just fake news. The truth is no longer a solid thing But a clay molded with our views. I’ll not try to do what Didion did, I’ve neither the competence nor the need To walk around in different shoes In glasses smoked with weed. I’ll just erode in peace here dark While the world in every direction implodes to dust. The red of it not iron-based – Eternal quiet the only end to our distrust.
  • Etréstles asks oblation to the unfortunate of the World .. he asks to give his offering House that is not his house, to synchronize your departure to be in the company of Solitude, He does not have his sacred Cemetery before leaving for Nineveh ... He has disappointed himself of the Archpriest of Ayia Lavra for his strong telluric pains in his marble abdomen ... The holy oil that furrowed his forehead, furrowed his soul he has not recognized himself when his own umbilical nap has flourished a wafer of the Messiah who has traveled alongside him by the pavilions of Messolonghi in clarions rubies .. My father Staktos; come, I have not yet received the indulgence of abandoning what is not abandoned, I need to hear your voice from my sixth reincarnation playing on the roads of the oracles that illuminate the world, which is yours and the Messiah Choir on the Magdala heavens . Father I have not yet gone, and so many lives I have lived to see your distant face on grass barley resembling your breaths of late sunny spring celestial sermon sermons. But this time I want to cheer you beyond the imagination of eclectic anemia, with the aching pain descending through my impure heart. Nothing torments me more than to move away from the hells that do not know that I run through the prairies towards you without getting tired, imagining that I will fall into the neglect of your forgetfulness. I quickly lose my Laud from my right arm as a short-handed little fish, to commit the indiscretion of anticipating me to worship you with my dislocated left arm that carries the Harp from Lethe confiscated from Euterpe. Harmony that ignores Dinora in the false forests of Messolonghi in flames. You are my cobble who pierces the cries of my crucified hands, timbers of lymph incense next to the sweetness of your words that grew green in my dreams. Challenge with this interloquy of your incandescent soul, this is how The Last Temptation of Etrestles begins with its bleeding fingers, in the inflexible forgiveness of praising all those who want to dance with the mothers of the Shadows; that Staktos is his father, before reviving him and resuscitating him in his exodus to Nineveh, land hunched over by the Host, tortuous and artificial light shone from the recklessness of him who will make him sleep through the desert of life in farewell fantasies. Winds are felt singing whistles of hydrogen sulphide rocking from the edge of the cliff of the cloud, to fall on the shoulders of the timid death, False Blood, clumsy blood to wash my feet on Virgo and Jupiter in the sand. . Father, in purgatory, make the sounds of the new dawn without any detail or gesture of repentance. Thus Etrestles receives the Eucharistic host offering in his holy mouth and runs down the corridors of the great mysteries of the Nothing of good spirit of all Mantle. To be continue…
  • Thy will be done Dear God shine your light on me rain down my almighty I got no chair to sit nor a place to think safe me from despair and give me air heal my valuable soul and wipe away my tear and no longer live in my fear show my path to love help me fly like a dove help me be who am I to be I am an Earth Angel my almighty and you are my creator greater, better, like a mirror my light, my only saviour Dear God I need to wake up shake up, and never look back I am on a mission waking from hibernation creating, living and loving this is my destination Dear God Help me please grow and forgive others for I now know my real true feathers I am an Earth Angel and we are one Dear God Thy will be done
About Us
Contact us
FOLLOW US
  • Wix Twitter page
  • Instagram Social Icon
  • Wix Facebook page
  • YouTube Social  Icon
Subscribe to Realistic Poetry today! 
1 Offical Member gif gold1m.png

© 2019 Realistic Poetry International LLC  D & C Inspiration

0