A mother carried you in her womb,
Her happiness moment is when you were born and she met you.
A mother is tender and nurtures you.
She does everything to take care of you.
A mother is your protector who keeps you out of harms way.
She worries about you night and day.
A mother is your supporter and inspiration.
She guides you in the right direction.
A mother is your comfort when you need an ear,
She is the only one who is true and dear.
A mother sets an example,
There is nothing too great for her to handle.
A mother's love is unconditional,
All the decisions she makes are rational.
A mother is valuable and strong,
Not afraid to tell you what's right when you're wrong.
A mother does everything to give you what you need,
She's there cheering you on to succeed.
A mother will always be your mother,
She is irreplaceable because you will never get another.
A mother goes over and beyond,
Nothing can come in between a mother and her child's bond.
A mother is truly a gift that needs to be appreciated,
She is the reason why you were created.
A mother would die for you,
She lives her life for you.
A mother sacrifices her wants for yours,
She is your own personal super hero and more.
May 10, 2014
~The One and Only~
(my mind hath looked
upon the speaking face of earth and heaven
as her prime teacher......[Wordsworth])
I saw two butterflies wrapped in silent passion,
Her heart-shaped wings splayed flat against the sill
Her torso throbbing in anticipation...
Himself, hovering gently to hold her still.
I saw their sleek brown bodies tightly pressed,
His feet clinging to her lest the wind
Tear him away. I saw the shadows rest
Around them and the midday sun descend,
And still they lay outside my window pane...
I wondered why it is that we must rush
And why my timid touches are but vain
And useless gestures, why he must always crush
The urgings. Nature’s children seem to know
That love is best when cherished soft and slow
I went to the garden to await my guest
Who will come with the beauty that silence suggests
Its' visit though cherished will not be long
In silence I stand for the beauty of its song
It was getting late and it had yet to arrive
It seemed from this melody I would be deprived
But then I saw something from the corner of my eye
It was the fluttering symphony of an ebony and gold butterfly
I watched as it moved to and fro
My eyes dancing to the rhythm of its flow
Then up and over the trees it flew
And then it disappeared out of view
But the echo of its melody lingered awhile
Then floated on the wind for miles and miles
I found a moth cocoon of silken thread
--A substance indestructable they say--
Almost unseen–his earthbrown, narrow bed
Where, patiently, the silent captive lay.
I thought to put him in a jar, to own,
To watch, to cherish his emerging form,
But No! The case was broken, he had flown!
His empty, useless house no longer warm,
He flew in joy beneath the spring-blue sky,
Caressing gardens with his sun-bright wings.
He seemed to relish living--sailing high
And in the April breezes fluttering.
I crushed his empty shell between my hands
And hoped he safely flew to other lands.
Chimera’s are mythical creatures composed of two or more parts.
Sagittarius, by example, is shown: to be made of both man and horse.
But Myths are not found among the living, except in the mind and art.
For where is the mermaid and her siren song found? Nowhere, of course!
Fiction has brought us fantasies, though life is stranger than fiction, I think.
For, now they’ve found the butterfly is in its life, two very separate beings.
Two separate strands of DNA work at different times within this missing link.
One is for the caterpillar, while the other is for the butterfly’s wings to bring.
One must die, or so they say, to allow the metamorphosis to bring the other to life.
But if they say one is dying… I think not… perchance it dreams, or does it sleep?
Or is this like the Phoenix that dies in flames, to again be reborn amid the strife?
Next time you hold a caterpillar or a butterfly in your hand… think about this leap.
Imagine all the wonder of their secret lives, and all that this can mean.
Not only is it a miracle, but perchance a place where we have found our dreams.
SECRETS OF THE SPIDER'S WEB
The spice of life, a nectar to the heart
if one can find it, all the juices flow,
thorought all time, man's made this dream a part
of ev'ry way he wants his life to go!
With rings and potions, camels hair or eye,
and just a trace of kale that's come to rot
it cannot fail to bring the wanted high
for all who sip to gain all life has got!
The secrets of all time are just the chase
as sweet as honey to a baby's milk
un-recognized when one is face to face
and bound as tight as any spider's silk!
Confusion plagues the minds who never see
how sweet the spice of life can come to be!
© ron wilson aka veebdosa the doylestown poet