Essay About Mothers Love And True Love

My Beautiful College Girl – Written by Lydia Dillingham
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Kiet VoMy Beautiful College Girl is an amazing poem which was written by Lydia Dillingham expressing the emotions letting go of her daughter. This one is particularly sent to my friend D with a hope she would understand how much she was meant and will always be meant to her mother. My beautiful College Girl shows there are no single vivid aspect about the little girl that her mother does not understand at all. She feels and senses everything, “My bones, my flesh and blood run through her”. Going over challenging steps in life, she never lost a sight on her little girl, she was and is right there next to the daughter’s side. The mother clearly knows “She loves me deeply, but she does not know”, she felt it at least once in her life, and now it’s happening just the same to her daughter. The views, the new observations her daughter could see is now a part of the mother seeing it one more time. She strongly states “I watch her and can taste my youth, but it’s only a taste, for I cannot follow her there, it is her path to run”. Indeed, this is the path that she must let go of her daughter and let her path begin. A mix of feeling, a bit of happiness, and a bit of bitterness, “It is the most bitterness feeling thing I know, this feeling of letting go”. The two last sentences were outstanding to my friend, she would barely know that her mother has been taking care of everything and watching over her for good. This poem might not turn her to a different person entirely, but it could give her a good lesson of how hard to be a mother and those feelings a mom has to keep within her happiness and bitterness.    Homesick was greatly “given birth” by Edgar Albert Guest, and now I will present it to my best friend in another state of U.S. who is terribly homesick at the moment. Facing the simple and plain problem, “It’s tough when you are homesick in a strange and distant place; It’s anguish when you’re hungry for an old-family face”. Yes, this one is for my friend and it is also for me. I would understand, better than anyone else, how harsh this feeling might turn a man into someone different. This suffer cannot be described or spoken out, it is a vague feeling that stays deep inside one’s heart. All the familiarities just got vanished after several hours’ flight. All “face, good folks, joys, friendship” are gone; they are left in your memories. Life a flash, in this distant place, it could be found a mother to get cared, a father to get taught, but they are all lost in mind. It’s just a place where “the gateway of the home he can’t go in”. Nothing appears to be real, even laugh or joke, “And I do my bravest smiling and I feign a merry air”; “ it’s only empty laughter, and there’s nothing in the grin”. More or less, this feeling is painfully true; my friend names it every time we talk. The emotion is true, the sympathy I have for him is true “when you’re talking through the window of the home you can’t go in”. This is just a thing to know and understand, of course, this is just another obstacle in our million miles of path ahead that we just simply have to go through to become a real man.         A True Hero is a beautiful poem which was written by Julie Mills. In this poem, she really shows everyone that what it means to be a true hero.  Thanks to her,  I’d love to share it with my grandfather who was a hero of our town. Reading through the poem, it does not take a super power to become a hero, they are just normal pals with loving and caring heart. “It’s not someone who is macho” or “It’s not someone who is true”, it’s just way normal to become hero, “always there when things go wrong and who does the best he can”. One can have everything he or she needs is to give a shoulder, but a strong one, to be clear. One strong enough to “ease the flow of tears”, or “drive away your fears”. Sometimes, smiling is another option to heal people. Frankly, there are cases when nothing could help but a smile. The man who would always be there and giving out guidance to people with no need in return. A person who is powerful enough to inspire, to encourage, “to make one soon relent”. All he has done, he’s done for people, there is no such a medal or glory would pride him enough. And that’s why it makes him a true hero. The man who is willing and able to help others is what I’ve always been seeing my grandfather. It always takes a hero time and more effort to believe himself as one true hero. A Mothers Love is True Love is one magnificent poem written by Leotha Brown II. It’s way clear as mentioned in the name, a mother’s love is one true beautiful, fresh and sacred love ever. I’m proud to let my mother know that I know how much she loves me. “A mother’s love is a wonderful love packaged from heaven with special care”, I’m her gift from the heaven and she is my protector that was sent from heaven to care about me. This love is priceless and purest than any kind of things you could even name or imagine in this world or any world, “no other love in which you can compare”. Words are not enough to describe, songs are never be enough to praise, it’s only love for love is the best way to pay off. This love is literally priceless, there is no price for one. It could worth trillions or even nothing, because it is a gift from “God”, this love is “purified by Angels” and “unconditional”. Eventually, they feed our souls from day of given birth to the day they are no longer able to care about us. Every moment in life has a mother’s footprint. They are always there, and they will be there for their children’s sake. They might be sent from heaven but they’re still ordinary persons and when time comes they are all gone to a better place, but there is something that would last for eternity, their forever love. The love which is passed to us and it will become the biggest gift we could proudly inspire to the next, then the next, and the next. My mother definitely feels it because I know she always care about under the shadow, “a mother’s love is branded in our hearts, even when her words aren’t spoken”.