It is October again, but I have another in mind
One long ago, and it brings tender memories
It wasn't the usual, of Halloween kind
Of parties and goblins, of which there were many
It was a year of some changes, our family had moved
I was ten years old...struggling and shy
A small little town, I'd been replanted and torn
It was late in October...now uprooted and more...
A different school....a country lane....no close neighbors next door
On Halloween night, it rained and it poured
The end of the world...I was unhappy and bored
Leaving what had been home, familiar and sure
Where our old street had been filled
With Halloween thrills
Here in the country, ...no one came to the door
I was dressed to go out...but storms plagued the night
My mom understood....she saw my sad plight
She went up to her room, made up her face
She combed up her hair, until it stood on it's roots
Covered her face with black fireplace soot
She threw on her robe, and pulled on dad's boots
Crept out the back door, and to the front porch
When the doorbell rang....I jumped in delight!
Trick-or-treaters had come to our house this dark night!!
When I opened the door, at first I didn't see
It was mom, ...trying to hard, bring me some glee!
She grabbed me and laughed and pulled me to come
Out into the rainstorm....up the road we would run
We ran in the downpour, getting soaked to our skin
Laughing and yelling....such fun it had been!
Later that night, we warmed by the fire
She let me stay up....no one was tired
So cozy and warm...no longer so cold
With popcorn, and candy...and the ghost stories told
That one Halloween, on that night of the storm
Was the best Halloween....and reminds me of home.....
I'll never forget when each Halloween comes
The gift of the fun.... all thanks to my mom.....
Copyright © Carrie Richards
As December winds swirled the snow in drifts outside
Lisa covered Mama, held her hand as she cried
“It’s my last Christmas, I know it in my heart, dear
Send my prayers to God; deliver them with my tears”
“Hush, Mama, you can’t die; Tommy needs you so
And his tour of duty still has six months to go”
Mama fell asleep, Lisa bowed her head in prayer
Adding her own tears, she asked that Tommy be there
“Please let my brother see Mama just one more time
When her eyes open, may it be her son she finds”
Tears fell on the floor as Lisa kept vigil
Beside her cancer-stricken mother so fragile
Awakening to see Tommy standing nearby
In uniform he appeared; Lisa exhaled a sigh
“God sent you home, I knew He would, our pleas were heard”
Tommy stroked his sister’s hair, saying not one word
‘Twas then Lisa saw Mama standing behind him
Aglow in heaven’s light were her mother and twin
“How blessed we’ll be – together on this Christmas Day!”
Lisa exclaimed, just before they faded away
Confused, she saw her ashen mom so still in bed
‘Neath the door a telegram, Tommy too was dead
And though there were tears in Lisa’s blue eyes so bright
Her loved ones would spend Christmas together in God’s sight
A smile came as candles flaming in the window grew
Lisa realized one Christmas she’d be with them too
*Rhyming narrative for Paula Swanson’s “Tear” contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
There once was a lady named "Mom"
Who had a hard time keeping calm.
But she knows how to sew
And garden and mow
And she's a farmer on facebook.com
She's a grandma to Mel and Harmony
She's a young wife for "Gramps" who's 70!
She calms the waters
Of her four lovely daughters
And best of all she puts up with me.
Copyright © Jason Talbott
Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
My Mother caring about all five in different ways
Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays
My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John.
music a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !
Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
The music takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "
My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food
the yelling , slamming of doors , tempers Flare , passion
Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?
Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee
No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
the Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .
Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
Excited in Chicago ! seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
Cubs , museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `
Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones ,
scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
~ That is the Family I Love ,
that is the Family I choose to miss ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain
***NOTE~TO BE READ WITH A RIDICULOUS "SILKY SOUTHERN DRAWL" (have fun:)***
"Storm over yet...?"
"Well hay'ell ye'ah!
sum'body git me a da'gumm cole beer.
whadda'bou that boy th'er?
sum'body git him'a cole beer too!"
"Diddy! that boy ain't nothin' but 8 years old!"
na'I don't give a jolly'durn, if he ain't nuttin but 8 year'owed!
'dat boy dun' sat him thr'ew a big ol', storm!
torna'durr warnin' too!
he gonna have him'a cole burr;
mama, git him'a cole burr!
ta'days father's day!"
© 2011 ~JSLambert Esquire
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO
May your years ahead...
be full of cheer....
May blessings come your way....
You're the best...Mother Dear!
"Happy Mothers Day>"
Copyright © Lawrence Ingle
A Painful Thanksgiving Night…
As I sit here this Thanksgiving night
I can do nothing else but write.
My family’s in the other room
So, why do I feel all this gloom?
When we arrived late last night
I thought for sure I would be alright.
Even though it took everything in me
To take that 3 hour drive you see.
Each and every time I come
All I want to do is run.
Run away and never turn back
A family bond I sure do lack.
A mother’s love is what I crave
But a hug and money is all she gave.
My sisters and I we try and try
To understand mother as the years go by.
But nothing about her ways makes sense
She’s cold and hard and always on the defense.
Through the years she’s done much wrong
But the love of my mother I still do long.
Though the bad memories of her will never erase
I prayed through my kids they might be replaced.
Maybe they would chase away her pain
And my love for her would not be in vain.
When they’re around her it’s clear to see
There’s nothing left, no mystery.
Who she is; is what she’ll be
All I see is a repeat of history.
A history filled with hurt and pain
To protect my children I must break the chain.
This chain has bound me in so many ways
It almost claimed my life - on several days.
Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway
You Inspire Me
What inspires me?
A song lyric-------a brave, determined person (Man or Woman)
A gifted child
An Innovator, innovators are individuals that are firsts to do something.
That inspires me and by the way…
O mother you inspire me (most of all)!
Copyright © Ayesha Karim
Here's a special wish
to all you mothers out there:
Happy Mothers Day!
Copyright © Robert Pettit
'Twas the week after Chrstmas and all through the house
The children were sleeping, too tired to arouse,
When all of a sudden there appeared in the room,
Mama in her nightcap, carrying a broom.
The stockings once hanging on mantle in row,
Were picked off the floor, into storage they go.
All the glitter of Christmas, now tarnished and torn,
Must be removed from the room ere the New Year is born.
She tackled the tree, taking some care,
To remove every light, the tree was soon bare.
She packed everything, put it safely away
On a shelf in the basement 'til next Christmas Day.
The fine Christmas spirit she'd had, was now flagging.,
She must clean up the mess to keep it from sagging.
She dragged out the tree and then heaved a big sigh,
Sat down with her coffee and had a good cry.
This was modeled after Clement Clark Moore's, 'Twas TheNight Before Christmas'
Copyright © Joyce Johnson
She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts,
Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts,
Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan,
Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan,
Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird,
Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared,
She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in,
Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin,
Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill,
But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill,
Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid,
With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade),
Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs,
Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares,
Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place,
Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face,
And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce,
The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”,
Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far,
A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar.
The family then all piles in, and argues over seats,
The children are already full of chocolates and treats,
Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”,
Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird,
She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks,
While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks,
They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat,
And restless children run around, not staying in their seat,
Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on,
But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done,
Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed,
She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!”
18th November 2012
Copyright © Sharon Smith
I do not know?
Woman of God,
A Diamond is what you are,
Beautiful & special & sweet,
A diamond a person would strive for,
Built with the lord's armor,
A diamond is the hardest thing to break,
You are shielded and protected by God,
You are my diamond,
My diamond with much wisdom,
You may be a short statue,
But you are wealthy and rich,
In my heart and in the eyes of the lord,
This is simply your time,
Your time and honor,
You lived a wonderful life,
Guided us and teached us the right thing to do,
And I appreciate you,
My pastor, my beautiful grandmother,
And my honorable Diamond,
Prophetess E. J. Woodford!!
Copyright © Vernard Mays
Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?
When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"
The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.
It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!" she displeasingly uttered to herself.
There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.
But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing,
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.
Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...
Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Last Minute Halloween Costume
Toilet paper wraps;
Costs less to dress as mummy,
Mom thinks it’s funny!
Copyright © Marie Harrison
?Dear Santa; for my wish list
I would really love a bike-
If it's not too much trouble
Can I also have a kite?'
'I would like a new computer
With games and an Ipod phone.
I would also like a train set
With tracks to fill my home.'
'But Mummy and Daddy are very poor
Not much money they said-
So if you cannot manage the above
Can I have peace on Earth instead?'
Copyright © Ken Duddle
A spider spun a silver web
in a mound of golden straw,
Then he hid himself inside the stack,
away from the wind so raw.
He yelled down to the sheep below
Who were trying to huddle close,
“It’s times like this that I wish there was
a fire for a mutton roast.
For winter had come upon the land
and his barn was deathly cold,
He wasn’t sure if he’d survive the night
if the truth of it were told.
He tried to dream a dream of hope
to get him through the night,
But he couldn’t bring himself to sleep
because of a blinding light.
A star was shinning down on them
as if the sun in mid-day glory,
The little spider had yet to learn
of the coming Christmas story.
Below was a ewe with her lamb
both snuggled up together,
Trying their best to keep warm
in the cold of the winter weather.
“I’d never trade places with you anyway,”
the mother sheep bleated out,
“Why are you so happy in your hate
to lend voice to pain and doubt?”
The light from heaven kept them awake
and staring in wide wonder,
When two weary travelers entered in
and the straw became their plunder.
The little spider became dislodged
as a nest of straw was piled,
And he could see that one of the travelers
was very great with child.
The three companions watched it all;
they’d never seen a human being born,
They were all surprised when at his birth
There came the peal of an angelic horn.
A herald’s call went out to all the land
announcing the newborn king,
And the spider and the ewe shared a laugh
to think of such a thing.
Because this baby was so very small
and his parents were so poor,
Yet there was something about this newborn child
that neither could ignore.
The spider looked down on the ewe
and said in a voice too bold,
“This baby needs to be swaddled now
to keep him from the cold.
Good ewe I can spin for him a cover
if you’ll allow me to use your fleece.”
So together they worked to swaddle the child
on this night of Holy peace.
The mother smiled at them all
as she took the blanket for her boy,
Then laid him in a manger poor
and they were overcome with joy.
The meaning of this wondrous event
was what made them all feel glad,
For they had brought the first gift to the Lord
by sharing what they had.
And the warmth, which they had provided the child,
also kept the three of them warm,
May the loving joy that they discovered
keep you this Christmas morn.
Copyright © Tony Lane
eternal love arrived… speck of flame spreading wild fire engulfing all time
* * *
Note: #3 in series of 24 Monokus reflecting the holy season of Christmas!
* * * *
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick
I sink into the steaming bath and soak my cares away,
A glass of wine to cure the pain the damp brought on today;
No screaming son to demand my time, today is just for me,
A book is all I need to be as content as I can be;
I call the local pizza place as the water cools and bubbles fade,
I order up a large for me and hope it’s not delayed;
Soon the delivery man is on his way with a heavenly pizza pie;
And I intend to enjoy every slice, just me, myself and I;
The rain is coming down in torrents as I snuggle up on the couch;
I slowly start feeling more like me, instead of Oscar the Grouch;
I turn on my favorite movie, the one I’ve seen a thousand times;
I enjoy every second as I relax, feeling sublime;
My family will be home soon and their needs I’ll have to tend;
The sun sinks lower in the sky, as my perfect day draws to an end.
Copyright © Tirzah Conway
For just one hour, we live as our ancestors did
Reading, writing, sharing the Earth by candlelight
From our obligations to Mother Nature we hid
Our eyes have become blinded, one with the night
Nature’s bounty has been squandered for too long
We strip forests, mines, and drill for oil in pristine sea
Should we have expected no punishment for this wrong?
Wouldn’t you prefer a world where creatures all run free?
These cages, prisons, contain endangered species
At 8:30 tonight though, Mother Nature is taking charge
Locked doors will open, even the one your heart sees
Is one hour without light enough time to recharge?
Written March 29, 2012 for Nikko’s “Beyond Earth Hour” challenge
"If you can, please turn off your lights for an hour
on Earth Hour 2012 ---March 31 ----8:30pm. Thanks :)"
Tip: Wait until hot summers or cold winter to turn on the heat and air. I cut my utility bill in half by “dressing” for the temperatures, rather than use heat or air conditioning. In the summer I turn off the hot water – cool water feels much better on a hot day.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
i don't want to be just marking
time. i died on november 20,
2008, during surgery. i was
on a vent when i awakened
december 2, 2008....my sisters'
birthday. what made me llive
i'll never know. i know there
are things to do on this side
i have no time for marking time.
i have a stupid bag hanging from
my side now. i am supposed to
"get comfortable with it". well
that was a laugh.
that was a laugh until i thought
of the people that had these
things with no hope of ever
getting away from them.
i am so lucky. 14 days i laid
on a vent, then 22 more.
i came home 3 days,
great pain in my chest...
well this is great i said,
a pulmonary emboli, 15 more
days, three days home.
then back to e.r. blood pressure
too high. this bought me
4 more days in e.r.
i am home now and finally
have spent 19 days home.
i feel every pain and i feel
every time that i feel good
yes, i am never marking
time again.....there is
something about fighting
for your life and your sanity
that straightens things out.
i don't recommend it but
i wish i could let your hearts
know what i know.
Copyright © janetta harrington
Mother I love you,come close allow me to hug you
from your womb I came you embraced me as you
whispered my name,I love you,you were the first
woman to say my name with love while thanking
the lord above for giving you a baby and shedding
his love from above,my love,your motherly with heavenly
touch oh how I love you so much,I appreciate your
knowledge after doing wrong I hope you will live long to
guide me along mom I promise I will help you stand strong
when you get old,I will fold your sheets and help you eat
and rub your feet as you sit on your rocking seat
I will even read you the bible before you sleep, Oh mother
oh beautiful mother,at this present time you are young and
I am to thank you for all the things that you do thank you
happy mothers day ok.
Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT
It took three whole days
for Jack to build a snowman;
he's as tall and strong
THRILLED BY SNOW
They are thrilled and scream..
playing in the deep, fresh snow;
they cannot their mom
Heart, take a quick look:
isn't winter's glittering snow
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
When I'm home sick, sulking half the day because your not here,
And getting sadder if I say madder because your not there,
I remind myself in an unusual way theres worse fared,
If you don't mind being compared,
Repeating the many ways you cared,
The experiences fondly replayed in many ways,
Thoughts and memories that make me gay,
Every recipe, every taste,
Looking back it all seems in an awkward haste,
Now it is what I use to fill my plate,
It's what I use so I won't be late,
Staying here learning to appreciate,
All the miles, trucks caring freight..
For your Christmas gifts the children just can't wait,
But if you visit my mind would quake.
Copyright © Courtney Courtney
It's funny how we associate things. They become one with each other. Who can imagine an Easter without the bunny, or losing a tooth and not being paid a visit by the tooth fairy. And Christmas would be unthinkable without Santa. So that is why, I guess, that I still remember one particular Thanksgiving from my youth.
Back then, turkeys at the market were fresh, not frozen and encased in plastic as they are today. They also represented an extra expense on an already tight food budget. So my mother made arrangements with the market manager to set up a layaway of sorts, paying some each week, and they promised to hold one for her.
I remember when, on the afternoon before Thanksgiving day, she sent me over to the grocer to pick up the turkey. I jumped on my bike and rode downtown to Converse Market. Walking up to the door, I found it locked. Shading my eyes, I pressed my nose against the window and saw that all the lights were off. Turns out they had closed early that day to give their employees a little more time to spend with their families.
When I returned home and told my mother what had happened, the look on her face was one of devastation. What would Thanksgiving be without a turkey? I thought my dad would be mad, but instead he just said “we've got food in the house don't we”? And we did.
So, although the letdown of a Thanksgiving without the traditional bird could have been a disaster, on that particular day, we chose instead to give thanks for what we had, and, as a family, dived into our pork chops with all the fixings.
Copyright © Bob Quigley
Listen up’ here’s the scoop, and honorable day is coming.
It’s a day to celebrate mothers celebrate special woman.
Without mothers this world would be miserable and would be a real shame.
With them on the scene there is no nonsense raising children it’s not a game.
All of “us” who were blessed with a mother.
Know she is the only one and she is special above sisters and brothers.
She has always been there for her children and their problems.
Blessed by God, her job is to teach, heal, pamper as she takes care of her private kingdom.
Special in every way it’s the hardest job in her life and the best job she could have.
Staying home to provide the best schooling in life, teaching them morals and how to behave.
All of “us” who have had loving mothers should be truly thankful.
You know you have only one, and we know were blessed and are truly thankful.
The standing rock of the family she is the one that binds the household together,
She has undeniable love for her children, devotion that lasts forever.
Putting her career on hold putting it aside to be with her children to raise.
She is deserving of all allocates we can give them, thanking her on this day with love and praise.
Copyright © Robert Ball
some questions remain archangel words resound ‘Hail Mary full of grace’
* * *
Note: #5 in a series fo 24 Monokus reflecting the holy season of Christmas.
* * * *
* * * * *
Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick
Sifting warm sand
through my fingers
lustrous fine grains
glitter my palm.
by the soft powdery touch,
I sit for a while
under the rocks
My bare feet
swirl patterns in the sand
as I idly watch
a beach life unfold
Bustling mother’s set up home
on plaid blankets
colourful beach bags
thick with togs and towels
strewn all around
a picnic stored carefully
under a shady umbrella,
they gather the children
skip giddy with glee
on lithe limbs
with index finger
of do's and don'ts.
My gaze drifts to
little pink sisters,
their chubby faces
alive with imagination
as nimble bodies
straddle the sand,
all wrapped up
in mounds of castles
studding their dreams
with pearly shells
and whispering tales
of pretty princesses.
At the water’s edge
long legs prancing
tip toeing warmth
into the chilly sea
up to their waists in
dipping and diving,
an ocean of laughter
as young lads play
splashing and yelling
a ball in the air
Picking up my sandals,
I walk up the beach
under the bridge
past crimson valerian
It’s balmy perfume
scenting a delicious day
Copyright © Eiken Laan
As I drive by the end of days I see a pumpkin and a happy witch on the doorstep of my joy,
As I pass by my four year old’s awe toward friendly ghosts down the street of nostalgia,
I am reminded of Saints gone home and good souls on their penitent journey,
Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, Countee Cullen, Paul Robeson and the poets of my past,
Hendrix, Morrison, Michael, Louis Armstong and the Sounds of my testimony,
Prince and Wynton Marsalis, Miles Davis, Amadeus, Earth, Wind, and Fire,
Saints living, saints dead, souls vibrant, souls sad in the darkness of regret,
We are a glorious symphony on this, this all Hallows Eve,
The eve of that day when I celebrate the muses of my sacrifice and the foundations of my epiphanies,
“Halloween is here” my youngest daughter exclaims and I am reminded of many a night spent scavenging for sweet things and expectant laughter,
Tragic kings like Edgar Allen and Charlie Parker, souls with so much pregnant genius that the world was too much for them,
It is our celebration dear friends that will move the mountains of discontent,
And so in this season of harvest, carpe diem calls me to absorb as much love as I can as the sun sets on purple leaves and gorgeous corn stalks,
And in mother Africa, the ancestors dance like their Celtic sisters who fused the worship of our Lord and the glory of mother Gaia,
And in mother Africa the land recovers from the grief stricken sting of rape,
And in mother Africa my sisters and brothers celebrate the saints gone forward into that great mystery,
Tecumseh and Black Elk I celebrate the brilliance of your aptitude,
And I cry with you in triumph for the resurrection of a people forsaken but not defeated,
On this All Hallows Eve, I celebrate the beauty of a journey full of confusion and catharsis,
For the reality is that we truly cannot fail,
As our cloud of witnesses sing to me of the victory that awaits,
Tonight, adorned with the fashion of merriment,
And the subtle chill of October wind reds our lips,
Come Glory and Glory be to the faithful departed,
Copyright © Woodrow Lucas
Lying by the pool on Mother’s Day
My thoughts were so many miles away
Suddenly my concentration broke
“Your begonias are pretty,” she spoke
I looked, hoping to see her sweet face
Wanting to give her one more embrace
I was the youngest of three children
I still think of her now and again
But to hear her voice on Mother’s Day
Was better than a floral bouquet
She’s still with me; I feel her presence
And when obstacles seem too immense
She comes to me often in a dream
And I feel her embrace as I scream
As May approaches, she’s on my mind
To Mother’s Day my thoughts are confined
Alone in Mom’s old house, memories
I feel love her spirit embodies
*Entry for Carol Brown’s Memories of May contest. Written by Carolyn Devonshire. (True Story)
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
Mothers should be celebrated
Every single day,
But instead it’s once a year –
Well, what is there to say?
You enter into parenthood
And do what you must do.
Quite often, in a family,
The mothers are the glue.
We hold it all together
With a little help from dad;
And wonder, when our kids grow up
What life they’ll think they had.
Psychologists assign us blame.
We must be trauma’s cause;
But hopefully, with age, such thoughts
Will give our children pause.
Perhaps they’ll somehow understand
The depth of how we feel
And recognize a mother’s love
Is bottomless and real.
It’s lovely to receive a card,
Store-bought or made by hand,
‘Cause it acknowledges that sometimes
Things work out as planned.
And, in addition, if you got
To see your kids today,
Appreciate the fact
Good fortune held you in its sway.
Mothers’ Day will soon be gone
Yet if you are in luck,
That glue that you set long ago
Will still be strongly stuck.
The calendar records the time,
One day like any other;
You do not need a holiday
To reach out to your mother.
For she is always there for you
When life gets tough or hard;
Her blood is flowing in your veins –
She needs no gift or card.
Copyright © ilene bauer