Poem: My Mother’s Face
- The poet Riad bin Youssef expresses:
Oh Mother, forgive me; boredom has gripped me,
And the patience within me has thinned…
Oh Mother, forgive me; my dreams have betrayed me,
The fruit in their branches has soured.
Oh Mother, forgive me; the path has pained me,
The thorns and pits have torn my every step.
Oh Mother, forgive me; for the expanse is darkness,
As I lay upon this earth, like an ox.
What can I sing when my voice has failed me,
And my sighs have severed the strings?
What can I weave, except a mere rag of a verse,
As shadows loom and the images blur?
No light can save me, except for you, O radiance,
In my solitude, I find my troubled eyes…
No light but yours amidst their deceptive illumination,
As the sun and moon weep upon your shoulders.
Oh Mother, forgive me; for God is my witness,
I have not forgotten; does the rain forget its clouds?
Will the silver fish abandon their homes,
Or does the river forsake its stream in despair?
Oh Mother, you remain a spring that cleanses me,
From your two clouds, the waters still pour down.
I am still a small child, barren, with my hands,
An empty land that weeps and pleads for pardon.
Oh Mother, forgive me; indeed a thousand apologies,
The pen has dried, and my heart feels like fire.
Embrace my trembling and accept my apology,
As my journey ends in the cradle of your arms.
Poem: Life Is a Journey, Honor Your Parents
- The poet Abu Alaa Al-Maari remarks:
Life is a journey, so honor your parents with kindness,
And the mother deserves the most recognition and grace.
Her burden of pregnancy and nursing is a dedication,
A privilege of virtue, honored by every person.
Be wary of kings; be obedient to their will,
For royal power was like the nourishing rain.
If they oppress, it serves a purpose for sustenance,
And how many have held you with either footman or knight?
Has there ever been a time free from injustice,
Among the rulers of Persia or Ghassan?
Horses, when trained, will yield themselves,
Only by reins that guide them, never by chains.
Poem: Mother
- The poet Kareem Matouq shares:
God entrusted you to me, as the scriptures foretold.
And poetry approaches with trepidation, then departs.
What I convey, O Mother, in verse,
Is a standing far greater than my descriptions.
The field of my letters blooms when carried by,
A cloud destined for you, from which goodness is plucked.
A mother is a school, they say, and I concur,
All schools’ theaters align under her influence.
Here I come with poetry to honor my verse,
As if the mother herself transcends ordinary description.
If I speak of motherhood, my words fall short,
Here, I stand before the gathering to confess.
Poem: The Hymn of Mother
- The poet Majed Al-Baldawi declares:
My mother, sovereign of spirit and life,
O flow of tenderness,
O chapter of compassion in human form.
You grace each moment with a divine touch,
Coloring the narrative of existence with faith.
Oh Mother, how can I shape a word?
Is a single poem enough to encompass you,
Or even a collection?
You are the prophet of my sorrow and happiness,
The capital of my grief,
Greater than all my verses,
Bigger than all my anthems,
Greater than the window to forgiveness.
God has granted you wisdom, comfort,
I will kiss your sacred feet,
To earn paradise.
O lady of love, storm of emotions,
I now seek your forgiveness,
And plead for your pardon.
I ask for God’s mercy through your hands,
So ride the clouds,
And support me,
The strength of the soul…
My soul is weary, and my steps are light, burdened by deprivation.
Yet, I remain I,
Crawling under the shade of wonder,
Reading what I can from passion or sorrow.
Mother, you encompass all the gardens of the earth,
You are the most significant destination.
Oh, how can I repay all my debts to you,
When I am but steps away?
Most Beautiful Verses About Mothers
- The poet Nizar Qabbani states:
Good morning, O beauty
Good morning, O beloved saint,
Two years have passed, my Mother,
Since the child who set sail
On his mythical journey,
Who tucked away in his luggage
The morning of his green homeland,
Its stars, its rivers, and all of its heartfelt crimson.
He concealed in his garments
Sprigs of mint and thyme,
And a Damascene violet.
Here I stand alone…
- The poet Mahmoud Darwish expresses:
I long for my mother’s bread,
My mother’s coffee,
My mother’s touch.
And the childhood within me grows,
One day at a time,
And I cherish my life because
If I die,
I shall be ashamed of my mother’s tears!
- The poet Ahmed Shawqi writes:
One day, a foolish man was enticed by wealth,
To hurt his own heart.
He said, bring me the heart of your mother, my boy,
And you will gain gold, jewels, and treasures.
He went and stabbed her in the chest,
Taking her heart and returned forthwith.
But in his haste, he stumbled,
And the torn heart tumbled down.
Mother’s heart called to him in the dust,
My son, dear one, have you been harmed?
- The poet Al-Mutanabbi laments:
I yearn for the cup from which you drank,
And I long for the earth that embraced you and held you close.
I cried for her out of fear while she lived,
And we’ve both tasted the grief of our loved ones before.
My letter reached her after despair and sorrow,
She died in joy over me, and I perished in gloom.
It is forbidden for my heart to rejoice now,
As I consider how I lost her, after it had felt sweet.
Grant me my revenge upon the enemy through you,
But how can I seek recompense from fever?
The world has not closed off to me,
But my sight is blinded if I do not see you.
- The poet Farouk Gowieda laments:
O Mother, in a day long gone…
When my heart blossomed like flowers,
After your departure, I gathered dreams from the rocks,
In each dream, I lost some of my days, the feelings being killed.
Until my heart became, with the passing of days, just a pile of stones.
One day, I sought you for comfort,
Your embrace was all I longed for in this world of compassion.
I shared my stories and despairs of life during times of humiliation.
I laughed one day when
Your eyes whispered sweet nothings.
You promised me that I would sing sweet words for love,
And that I would roam the realms searching for love,
Forever wandering in the skies of desire like a strange bird.
Twenty years have passed…
- The poet Ashraf Hashish describes:
Mother’s embrace is my sanctuary,
The spirit of virtue, my source of piety.
A fortress of dignity; her heart is my homeland,
Its sacred record is neither hidden nor erased.
My mother’s noble acts elevate her,
Their glory is told in the chronicles of our land.
The flag of pride, she soared with joy,
Embracing the dawn in dazzling dreams.
Mother, you are my homeland, my history, my memory,
You are my life and the days that I cherish.
The beacon of wisdom, mother, is my salvation,
From losing myself and grasping the ultimate goal.
Mother, for my sake, endured the flames of tribulation,
With no grievance while harboring pain.
Indeed, I’ve triumphed through her goodness and obedience,
She was my weapon, the most powerful of all.
She battled the oppression of worries fiercely,
Against hardships, sorrows, and calamities.
I implore the sea of my verses to relay my essence,
To you, a text flavored with sweet sustenance.
And how can the sea contain within it,
A profound ocean of love, how can it encompass?
As long as your love envelops my soul,
I shall never thirst, O sacred stream!