Poetry in Motion

Living everyday is like a winding road with twists and bends, I must navigate with rows of tiny symbols on paper before it is lost along the way in the rush.


May 2015

All We Need

beautiful, simple and relatable…have reblogged on threeprayers

DoubleU = W

you are the warmth on my face,

the breeze brushing my skin,

the cooling storm on a hot day,

the shade in the patch of woods,

the rain dripping from leaves,

you are all that brings life,

and you are all we need


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Unrequited Electronic Love

Unrequited Electronic Love

This message for the individual named,
If you are the addressee,
Should not distribute or copy.
Please notify immediately and delete
this from your control system
Transmission cannot be guaranteed as
Information could be destroyed, arrive late, or contain viruses
The sender does not accept any errors of this message
Verification is required and is intended
If you are the named addressee
The sender by mistake corrupted the liability licences
As a result transmission to hard-copy version is incomplete.

©2015 Bessielah David

My Son

My Son.

My Son

My Son

As a babe, my child

The apple of my eye

Take heed, be strong!

A babe I held

A youth you’ll become

In no time, your own path to tread

Take heart, my child

Take heed, be strong!

As a man, my child

Do not forget, what you have been taught

Your footsteps firm, your kindness supply

For in your days, kindness returns

Do not forget my child

Take heed, be strong!

A man you’ve become

A master of your own destiny

© 2015 Bessielah David.



My life is in your hands;

My hope is “graciously” marred.

I live on honest Danes.

Merits is all I know

“Practise makes perfect”, I say!

But none too dared to show.

My pearls, I preach in spotless day,

The screams I hear in abundant mane

For all I care, the heathens pray.

The summers’ frame of earth less prey,

“I hear I hear the messengers’ plea!”

Of precious life a deed to spare

“My life is in your hands”, I say!

My hopes are hopeless, marred and bare

I hear, I hear no plea announced

Of what my life should be or should not be

I trail in blame, a thought to bear

My pray, a prayer of heart-felt snag,

My life! My life is in your hands.

© April 2015 by Bessielah David

Happy Mothers’ Day

“Thank you Mom for your love and care towards me.

Mom, you mean so much to me.

I will always remember you in my little heart.

May God Bless you in this special day.”

Love you always.

Your daughter and Son

Shania and Sonny

These are the handwritten words of my daughter in behalf of her and her brother. I had tears in my eyes when she gave me the card. It was not fancy or glossy like the ones you buy from the shops. It was hand-crafted by my daughter, who is turning nine in September. – It had taken her almost a week to decide on what to write on the card in preparation for that day. Mother’s Day! She had given me a hint of having to give me something on that day, and the excitement and anticipation of that actual day- for my daughter is something extra-ordinary, She couldn’t stop talking about it.

It was a beautiful card! what can a mother say when this gesture tears at your heart-strings; she had colored it red, with a big red heart at the center of the front page, designed the interior with triangular borders and shaded it with tiny hearts; she had written her note to me in pencil, despite the numerous pelts of eraser on the paper, she had managed to color and design the card, the way she planned it . I know – the  thought that comes with the card amounts to nothing but a million pride, any mother would ask for – I know pride has it’s downers, but what more could a mother ask for, when you have your children building on their humane traits of – thoughtfulness, kindness and all the -ness that continues to be cultivated in their lifetime! It was a wonderful moment, I’ve had to share with my daughter and son. I don’t know about you mothers out there but to me, I couldn’t ask for a better gift than for my children’s thoughtfulness. It’s Priceless!

* * * R E F L E C T I O N S * * *


I wasn’t a mother when I married you,

yet you want me to be like your mother

I wasn’t “perfect” when you met me,

yet you expect me to be more than the other

I wasn’t expecting anything than acceptance,

of your love and repentance

I didn’t ask to fall in love with you

we fell in love despite strange perceptions

I willingly accepted you knowing

everything would be foretelling

With nothing but my wits and stupid love

You promised “it would be alright love”

I understand it would be tough but

with every passing moment in stride

Your loving embrace keeps me upright

I made my life with you even without dough

I believe in us – two hearts in one clove

So here I am inundated by your absence

I’ve tried once and tried again to make sense

Of why this unbearable abuses

had surfaced and resurfaced

against someone like me

Me, a mere reflection of you!

© 2012, Bessielah David

Featured post

The heavenly baby-sitter!

Tuesday afternoon was  just another ordinary afternoon – I had just arrived from work safely at 0600 pm, albeit a myriad of traffic hustle – a cacophony of steel, smoke and dust; horns blaring, loud music, tyre-screeching, all rambling for the first slot of free space on the freeway to reach their destinations on time – “smart” PMV and taxi drivers raced for their lane space just to get to their destination quicker. A scene, all too familiar, it is a daily struggle to travel out and in from where I live.

I had just held my 16 month old toddler son David and was breast-feeding him when mom began the forecast of the day’s event’s – that happened to her and my son.

Mom had my son seated on our lounge table-top which was about a meter high and gave him a colored, reading book to glance at the pictures. David just loves books! He likes to see pictures and read in his baby-like lingua-franca, and that moment was no different, he was so quiet and busy concentrating on the reading book.

Mom had two slices of bread in the toaster earlier and was trying to retrieve the bread slices and put in new slices. The distance from the kitchen bench and  the lounge table was about 4 meters wide. It’s actually quite a far. Mom was facing my son and walking backward to the toaster to retrieve the bread so she can keep an eye on my son, in case he tries to move. As soon as she reached the kitchen bench, she turned  to put in new bread slices when she had removed the toasted ones. It was a split second, when she turned, my son was on the floor, lying on his sides trying to get up, but couldn’t. It was so quiet, at that time, and consciously thinking, my son would have broken an arm, leg or even his neck – he still can not climb up from the floor or down from a high place and there would have been a loud crash with my son crying in inevitable pain if he fell from the table.

I can only thank God for his grace and mercy and utter a “thank you Lord!” I know there is a mighty living God we serve. And He is just doing His job – baby-sitting and protecting my son for that crucial moment as he has always been doing.

There was no broken arm, or leg, not even a scratch or lump on his body and face. He is a miracle that God gave to me, considering the circumstances surrounding my gestation period and birth, But that is for another time.

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