Design a site like this with
Get started






I don’t want to be like her.

Extravagantly loving, calm and caring.

Giving, always forgiving.

Never on a fault finding mission; in hard work she fends for all.

Not even the dip-drops of the rains was able to make the merchant’s princess regret her decisions.


Patient to a fault,  one true jolly fellow.

Beautiful, simple, humble; second to grandma’s soul melting curvy frame.

Cheerfully, welcoming; hopefully, happily she recounts her blessings; with scanty wares through the Bassa plains.

The day, the breath, the tinny foots, the laughter was worth more.


I don’t want to be like her.

So energetic, a mockery to the world’s strongest man.

Jabs and spittle were her first ointment; smiles and peace poured her instead.

Go you back to your kindred, entreats her young?

“For your sakes, I keep my vow to this cottage”.


Faithful, supporting; sacrificing for all but herself.

A rod-hand kept all inline, in check, there wasn’t a spoil.

At the mirror, hoping not to see but all I see is her.

What is your gain in pain?

“you are my peace, my joy, my wealth, my future”.


I don’t want to be like her.

Lifting the crown, the cause and the king, she matches on.

Turning every pain to streams of joy, independent-great mights.

On her shoulders rest an empire’s foundation, but she takes credit for nothing.

Body wrecked by long years’ martyrdom and denial.

A heart still ravaged with tender kindness as the moon, beautifully hot like the sun.

“Live to learn, to earn, to give, to lift”.


That smile, that height, that hair, that nails, that creamy complexion.

While wallow she saw hallow.

She gave her all; still giving her cheeks.

Prayers and wishes come alive,  one cheerleader must partake of this banquet

Oh! Blessed are you spouse, your mate drew from this breast.       

“Be prayerful, be happy, be grateful”.


Please tell me,  am I like her?

Golden are batons she shared, more are the sprinters already.

Front facing back, the journey continues, the movement has already begun.

Not religion, not creed, not tribe, for to the end of the earth her seeds grows.


Shoulder to shoulder, the part is straight; no defaulters; for the message is GODLINESS, LOVE and SACRIFICE.


Recounting A Mother’s Love, A poem by Mary Avoswahi Adegbile, July 16th 2021.








Published by Avoswahi

I am a Media and Public Relations Professional. I am a Motivator. I am a Simple and easy going, a happy Person. I appreciate books, music, movies and other creative works. I am Committed to positively impacting the world. I am a Nigeria! I am simply a healing soul, on a quest to create beautiful 🥰 moments and memories of hope, laughter and faith. Hoping to learn and share. I love life, faith, arts, communication, music, books, family, freedom, peace, grace, fashion, writing, photography, colours, architecture, Construction, plants…. Now you know, my list is endless 😂.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: