A poem for Mom, my Angel In Between

“‘Mother’ is another term for the occasionally thankless, lifelong career that is also known as real-life-sometimes-demonic-out-of-necessity-angels.” — Dreaming Human

So Mother’s Day is coming up tomorrow. Disregarding other plans up my sleeve, the poem I’m posting here is a gift I’d like to share — no, not with you, it’s your mother‘s day tomorrow, you selfish child (P.S. If your moms’ are giving this snarker an evil look, tell them from me that I’m only joking and not really bullying their child, and by the way ma’am, congratulations on protecting your son/daughter so well from these dangerous alien things called snarks).

All levity aside, I only need to say that “Mothers are special people in our lives who we really need to appreciate” before you all stop reading and start skimming the text in boredom, because really, everyone knows why these special beings humans call mothers are special in the first place. In other words, it goes without saying that all of you appreciate your mothers, because (you minds tune out and fills in the blanks here) just like me. So while I dedicate this poem to my own Mom, my very own angel in life, I don’t think she’d mind if I let any fellow snarkees, present and future (thankfully there’s no past ) share it with their mothers too.


Before I was born
I made a pact, signed a contract.
I was shown life, death and
all that comes between
and then was asked to choose:
To live,
or to live unborn.

What I saw, I did not like
Life is too uncertain, death too absolute
— What reason is there to choose this world
suffused with its masks and demons
with its malice, hatred, suffering?
what could possibly be good of this place
so lonely, unkind, so unforgivingly cruel?

They tell me, Love.

Love? I know of it
heard of its legendary warmth
but skepticism shadows me
I ask, and how would you know
that I will experience it
that love will come to me?

It comes, they say, from an angel
That angel will care for you
protect you, raise you at all costs
She would give her life so that yours is brought before you
and die, and live, and die again
to ensure your life ends
only after hers
to ensure you are happy
to give you love

She would love you all your life.

Now I am born
now I am alive
and I turn and see
the angel promised to me.
She has been here, by my side
all these years and more
This angel has loved me, will continue to love me
through life, death and everything in between.

To this being
This angel in between my life and death
I wish to say
thank you, and
I love you.




As a note, this poem was written last year, when I as a seventeen-year-old looked past the commercialization on steroids that every Mother’s Day seems to inspire, and tried to figure what I would tell my mother if I had to summarize the entire seventeen years we’ve been brought together through my birth. Wondering whether my messages would grow in depth or change in some way as the years go by, I remember concluding back then that there really was nothing more, or less, I could say, than “thanks for everything” and “I really love you.”

Of course, “you were right most of the time”  also neared the top of the list — but obviously, every growing teenager would like to discount this when immortalizing their happy moments with their moms a.k.a their personal Earth’s angels.

Anyway, guess what? Exactly as I suspected, one year onward, what I wanted to tell her didn’t change, and probably never will: the only thing I could really say to you, Mom in spite — or maybe because — of all you’ve done for me (cue wails of incompetence and a reflection on how I and every loved child in the world is forever indebted to their mothers-synonymous-with-angels) is to say..

Thank you for everything. And I love you beyond life itself.

Looking back at the poem above (which I wrote last year, remember), at its ending lines, I have a feeling I’ll be saying that for  a very long time. And no matter how much I say it, it’ll never be enough, because nothing I do will ever match up to everything my mother, my angel, has done for me, starting withe the day she gave birth and gave me the love I was supposedly guaranteed to get in life.

All that’s left is to celebrate Mother’s Day..


Seven Wonders of humanity

“Only through the seven wonders was it possible for humanity to build seven wonders of Earth .” — Dreaming Human
How was the idea behind this poem conceived?  At 14,  my younger self thought that the Seven Wonders of the world should actually be renamed the Seven Wonders of Earth. .
Humanity doesn’t generally need any more stroking to our over-inflated egos.Yet, as lowlifes who underwent evolution to end up running (and paradoxically destroying) the planet, the  world’s truer wonders, I felt, lay in things far more awe-inducing than what we could merely physically build.
Two days, a couple of minuscule tweaks, hairs torn out and 6 pages later, this poem was born.
What’s it worth?
I was proven the value of Seven Wonders when it won the recent NST Niexter’s Young Writers’ Awards 2012, which you can read about here.
It wasn’t the certain amount of money won that made the award sweeter let me tell you. What matters more is the seven wonders that got me writing it in the first place.
Who is it for?
To some people, especially those who lack time or a poetic soul , Seven Wonders might be too long and too dreary.
To poets, it might be too wordy and lacking in metaphors and/or imagery for a poem. T
T o me, it’s kind of galling that my fourteen-year-old-self conceived poems that won awards while I haven’t quite gotten around to writing one yet. Said fourteen-year-old self is gleefully dancing in the background of my time-unbound psyche, by the way,
To most people, though, I think their main thoughts would be on which of the seven wonders might affect their lives more, and which appealed to them most in whatever way. See for yourself, which wonder is the most amazing to you?
Were there an outsider, a foreigner
to come here a few days
from alien worlds yonder
watching men and their mad, mad ways.
Iwere it to hail you; it willsays:
“I hail you, human. You are one too, are you not?
Only they may know the answer to the question that I’ve got.
I shall explain, lest you show confusion
I seek none but truth, so pay me some attention:
My brethren say seven wonders
run rampant in this world.
I came to see them, I believe
I have seen them all.
The wonder known as love is the first that I have seen
Love, in a widow’s grief, or in a couple’s tiff
In the warmth of a mother’s arms as she asks where her child’s been.
Love has created the world; love, the flames of life..
To love is the act hardest to perform,
yet that wonder is ingrained, the basis of human nature.
Then I have seen belief
Laden in prayers and the eyes of the dying, the conviction of the dead
Either a mirror or a blindfold, truth that can deceive
Belief, if not powerful, is nothing.
Hope, another wonder I am privileged to see
in futures and children, no less, for children are hope incarnate.
Even without everything else, hope is last to flee
Dying and reborn, lingering through day or date.”
Three wonders, insofar of human lore
What, pray tell, would you have as the remaining four?
“In the eyes of stargazers and leaders alike
I see the wonder known as dreams
Dreams that gives purpose, propels revolutionaries to strike
It can shake the world, inspire ideas, shatter schemes!
Yes, hand-in-hand, dreams and wonder
often come together.
Fifth comes the wonder known as pride
that is, vanity in its mask of majesty.
One turn bringing a man’s downfall, another swaying victory to his side
Pride: the ultimate mistake in life and its brevity.
Next comes joy, also known as happiness. Do not scoff or laugh
— or rather, laugh a lot, for the pursuit of this is
the right of every being. Dance, smile, laugh!
Find joy, permit yourself to enjoy life, pursue happiness!
For even as a human lives, they are dying.
The seventh wonder, known to humans as empathy
also compassion, kindness. In alms given to the needy
in the strong helping the weak
where empathy reveals its face, is humanity at its peak.
While love is exclusive, purely for some and no other,
empathy encompasses all, one human to another.
If love creates the world, empathy perpetuates it.
So there it is, human. Seven wonders in all
Now for my question, if I may so have the gall.
Seven wonders you may have, but do you see these seven as such
Are they truly a wonder to you, or merely one, the rest not as much?
Are they in danger of fading; will humanity keep its call?
How do the seven look to you, if it’s true each human has it all?
I am returning home, human, where it is void of the seven wonders
so pray tell:
what meaning have you for the seven wonders?
And  due to them what change will your world befall?
 ..That, I believe, is something you and I may ponder.
COPYRIGHT Nurul Jasmine 2013
Which of the seven wonders do you consider most important, my dear snarkees? I have mine, but then this was never about me.