My mother’s hair hung thick and to her waist.
But seldom did she wear it in that way,
for always in a bun she had it placed
til it was loosed and on her pillow lay.
She sometimes tells me how I'd kidded her.
When I was small, I said, “Your hair is pink!”
From how she tells this story, I infer
I must have caused her tender heart to sink.
She aged, yet grey was sparse upon her head.
We said, “An older woman cuts her hair.”
Mom acquiesced and lost those locks rare red
she’d humbly worn for years when young and fair.
She’s nearly eighty now, bobbed hair turned brown,
And how I miss her once “pink” glory crown.
By Andrea Dietrich
In the Christmas Freeze of 1983
Mama thought she lost her Oleander tree
Some called it a “bush,” but at 14 feet tall
Its shadow cast wide on her home’s southern wall
How she mourned the loss of this beloved plant
She begged the Lord for any blessing He’d grant
The freeze ended soon, though her tree appeared dead
The scent of water each day clung to its bed
On January twenty-fourth, the call came
Dad said mom entered God’s heavenly domain
A neighbor had found her, lying in the yard
Next to remnants of a plant she’d not discard
In May a miracle appeared to occur
The strong plant revived, as if waiting for her
*True occurrence based on my mother’s death, January 24, 1984.
Poem written July 12, 2014
She brought me into this world with her love,
One of the precious gifts from up above,
From her womb ‘til I stand on my own feet,
She did everything for my benefit.
She was my first teacher and she was stern,
For her, in life I have so much to learn,
Sometimes, with her great love I’m also hurt,
She is not perfect, but she wants the best.
I salute her for being a martyr ,
Serving her family who is so dear,
She is my sunshine during stormy day,
My guidance and strength when I lost my way.
I’m so lucky that she is my mother
I am of what I am because of her.
May 14, 2013 5.30 pm
A dedication to my loving mom. That's really her. Ever since, she works so hard for the family as a dressmaker. She'd sacrificed a lot for us especially when we were young( my 2 brothers and I) because according to her and my dad, we were so sickly especially when we were still babies ;))).I love her so much and I'm so proud of her. HAPPY HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
Contest: Mother and precious poems
Sponsor: My loving sis & greatest poet, PD
I bet you didn’t know about the fairies
assigned to all the infants that are born.
At night beside her precious charge each tarries
while softly crooning lullabies till morn.
An extra special fairy will be sent
to first-time mothers of a girl or boy,
for when the harried fretting mom is spent,
she only has to look upon her joy.
As magic dust releases from above,
the mother sighs and holds her baby near.
Then particles illuminate the love
of one who coos while cradling her dear.
As fairies go, there simply is no other
as blessed as she who serves the child and mother.
Shall I compare thee to your mother's arse?
Thou aren’t more lovely, but more flatulent.
Rough winds do shake it; and bring on a farce
And all her clothes hath all too short a rent
Sometime too hot-headed of hell doth burn,
And often is the true nature exposed;
And every foul from fowl; my stomach churns,
By reason, or by nature's raging closed.
But thy infernal diet shall ne’er start
Nor gain possession of which now I grasp;
Nor shall we meet again; let’s stay apart,
When in eternal sounds the voice does rasp,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives this, and I bid thee goodbye.
The pool grows green through the leaf cover.
Large pears hang upon ancient tree.
Mocking Bird sings chanting to his lover;
As the dew sparkles, like water in the sea.
Crepe Myrtle has turned red how time has passed.
Moma admired some trees said they were pretty.
Daddy dug up a few runners, oh! memories from past.
In most things, think of daddy how witty__
Daddy brought (them) here to brighten moma's life
To give her something pretty to enjoy.
Today I enjoy them, this is reallife.
Now as I look at them they are my buoy
Clouds are coming in hiding the sun rays
But their light and life brightens my days_
For Nancy's contest;
Contest name: Gratitude
Inspired by; Constance La France’s Native American Portrait
Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare
When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother
Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread
I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.
Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"
Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend
Billions of journeys round a fiery eye
This watery celestial traveler made.
Untiring, spiraling route through the sky
Always returned from yearly crusades.
She carried her children on top her back
And nurtured their needs until they have grown.
Some may have suffered; those may have cracked
But never through any fault of her own.
Forever and always maternally
This wondrous, aging beauty shall remain
Our source of life atmospherically.
Through time and space her dimensions attained
Despite her journeys she managed to bring
Her gifts: summer, autumn, winter and spring.
A granny I might be
A granny I might be
But I can always see
My hair is growing grey
My shape is quite okay
I still love my fashion
I guess it’s still my passion
I always look quite smart and dressy
And very rarely I look messy.
I’m older, but I'm still a lassie
Sometimes me, I do look classy
I would not change a single day
Not ever, not in any way.
How the years they will turn out
Well who knows, I’ll wait that out.
Vera Duggan 13 September 2014
Sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
By the sea, she oft let her spirits clench
to the lore of love where I once grew.
She watches seagulls dive for a quench,
as waves predispose to catch her view;
sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
O, look how she put the sun to blench,
giving her the sea in note less mew,
which let a startling night, to unscrew
stars to dance, anew, that in elench
sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
- inspired by Brian Strand's A Rondel Poetry Contest
A GRANDMOTHER'S PRAYER
I'll pray you strength, to face each coming day
when things aren't going as right as they could,
to tear down walls, when walls get in the way
of knowing life is going as it should;
I'll pray you light, so your dear heart can see
all through your life, your journey's not alone,
and so the night's not dark as it could be
in troubled times, as every life has known;
I'll pray you love, so love will take your hand,
so you can feel love is the plan for you,
and when it's done, your heart will understand
just what it means to love one, as I do.
I'll pray you have the wisdom God can give
and all His love, as long as you shall live.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Little doll with curly hair, how did God
Make you so fair? With big eyes color sky
And with skin as rose as a healthy child...
Fall asleep as you hear my sweetest lullaby!
The radiant moon has come into your dreams,
What can she offer you: if not moonbeams?
And as you breathe, you resemble a cherub
That Rafael imagined to be you in that crib
When happy angels gathered and whispered,
" Little doll, gently lay on your golden head."
This nursery rhyme you will learn in time,
And sing it to yourself when church bells chime.
You'll long for a hand to caress your cheeks...
feeling its warmth while you will float on dreams.
Can I tell you, Mom, that I love you?
You smile so bright it lights up a room,
I can’t help appreciate all that you do,
Like you make luscious flowers bloom.
Rough winds do try to shake your beauty,
You stand tight and hold steady.
Raising me was your solemn duty,
When being there for me, you were always ready.
But though your age, your job shall not end,
For your job as a mother will be vigorous,
You will always have a helping hand to lend,
And that is why you’re marvelous!
When your brown hair gets all white and gray,
I’ll be there to help you like you do today.
Our rising worship! Oh, perfect love of Mother and Child
is understood by adoring eyes. Eager hearts pray,
from the eternal breath of babe. Lifted high, strong yet mild,
He foretells of forgiveness and whispers agape.
Upon Mary's chest, lie His heavenly dreams -
a love of no measure born unto a Virgin
and sins evermore are assuredly redeemed
as God's blessed Mother cradles creation.
Her womb brought forth Light, the Savior of man.
Her gentle touch nurtured God's only Son.
The sacrifice, His blood shed to quench a dry land.
Prophecy fulfilled, so no soul shall be shunned.
Inspire us precious babe upon Mary's chest.
Mother's unfailing love gives comfort and rest.
*Inspired by Anguissola's Virgin and Child.
I was just a child of four with not much to say
But I enjoyed the times I went next door to stay
You were so sick in bed and didn't feel quite well
But you were strong and played with me so I could never tell
You body was full of cancer you were very ill
But whenever I saw you, you'd smile and I'd sit still
I'd climb next to you on your bed, I wouldn't wiggle
I saw the sparkle in your eyes and sometimes we would giggle
I'd love to sit and dress up in your necklaces and hats
Pretend I was a princess while you would just lay back
I was too young to know how sick you really were
You never ever let on, you let me play, a lot was just a blur
As I grew I was told you loved the time we shared
I wish that you were never sick and knew how much I cared.
A mother’s face you rarely touch and kiss
You go on with life without retrospect
Mother waits longer but with finesse
Many flowers withered from willful neglect
A short respite giving fresh breath inside her womb
Empowering new life without remorse
Her presence helped you strive with aplomb
With your mother, you’ll be on the right course
Such a lovely face you cannot assess
A portrait to paint with high pixels of respect
Her smile that relieves all your stress
Today is Mother’s Day and try to recollect
Now her face wrinkled but beyond compare
Like heavenly bodies with unique flare
12 May 2013
Blesséd cheek worships Holy cheek, the Son
is adored with a tender touch, a gentle gaze,
the Madonna, as all mothers, left undone
by life's greatest gift, every sacred phase.
How soft His suckle, how hallowed His cries,
those first words astounded, lightened her heart,
within His warm eyes she watched the sun rise,
though stars sang sad lullabies, Heaven’s concert.
Soon, too soon, will come tremendous sorrow
for the Lamb that she swaddled will one day bleed,
but Jesus just smiles, says, Fear not tomorrow,
Love will provide all the courage we need.
Mary, raised by her own, forever awed
that her arms had once rocked the Grace of God.
*A contemporary "toned" sonnet. Contemporary sonnets do not necessarily use meter, make free use of enjambment and slant rhyme and the syllable count is loose. Most contemporary sonneteers give a fair nod to their predecessors, as they write sonnets because they love the original form, but enjoy modern influences, a freer format and the ability to shake up the status quo.
This sonnet is inspired by the works of Sofonisba Anguissola, a renaissance painter known for her stunning portraits and her depictions of a loving Madonna.
Please, look for yourself. Open the about this poem link, if you can. If you are unable:
Set child, listen to your elder's story often as you can for we are but men A time to live a time to die sorely in life to always do good, my friend: Written books are ink and pen, by a hand So harken more to do the good, when told Living letters never to hold again is far better to hear a voice of old: for prose can write anything to get their way living histories of the feelings told are fading, grows from youth to old but stay; before you pass a place you can not go To heed my grandmother's words, I said no always to do good I fail but I know
Maybe I'm Amazed
When I talk to you I often wonder
How you devoted your entire life
To me, I'm just a blunder
But you were Mother and wife.
Seven to feed and care for
Plus a man whom needed care
Dug deep always more
Reading,prayers forever there.
Educated and refined
Unknown by most,
Only with us you'd unwind
Kept your cards close.
Only those she raised
Know the sacrifices she gave.
Jennifer Marie Oliver
In the kingdom of the Waters
She sits enthroned on its womb
Flanked by the silver facet Atlantic-Indiana
As the barking tides wrestle her marble feet
In the court of the Tropics
She is robed in green foliage of ancient savannah
Adorned with pearls of arid sands,
With ivory mountain and cincture of rift
In the mythic boarder of the Equator
She rests at the footstool of the fierce sun
Comforted by cloud’s tears
And caressed by solemn winds
In the royal neighborhood of Continents
She locks horn with Europe
In the witness of Asia
And her offspring Madagascar
Afore falling in his arms they advice to think twice
Unregretful I act beyond my surprise
It’s the grip of a force, a force here to claim
Compelling, like a moth drawn to the flame
Every night encloses the heat of flaming souls
But sun kissed morning plays a wicked role
To my realization it brings an obvious question
What next to prevent conception?
Like always, I pop in a pill to save the bill
My guy admires the worth of a contraceptive pill
It causes side-effects. Ah! How would he know?
He enjoys the freedom of reckless show
Nevertheless, I look at kids and admire their innocence
Wish the pill could kill within me my maternal pretence!
Luzerne County Community College
I further my education right there
Being there really increased my knowledge
W-S-F-X was on the air
I was the promotion director there
and I hosted Campus Talk a few times
Associate’s Decree without despair
and having a family more than dimes
back in High School college wasn’t in mind
Working out at sea college wasn’t bad
college did get me ready for the grind
and for a moment my mother was glad
but most of all I learn more poetry
and my writing makes me feel truly free
Oh Mother, why have you left me on the shores of lonesomeness?
Without you, I amount to nothing.
I miss you, and I miss your bosom’s tenderness.
You protected, you fed, and you were my closest peer.
When I became ill, you healed.
When I crumbled in hopelessness, you stood behind as firm backbone,
For strong you are and steady; I lingered within your fortress, behind your shield.
Forever protective; as a watchful knight that has been sworn.
Seldom, I am strong, without your wholesome feminism.
Oh Mother, I dearly miss your divine presence.
Love you; I do, with undoubted truism.
My heart, you comfort; forever, I feel your essence.
You complete me in every way.
Regardless of age, in your warmth I stay.
A SONNET FOR MY GRANNY
My northern star
To the stars you belong
You were the brightest of all stars
The fairest of all
Your illumination would have quench
The burning furnace
My precious sapphire
The jewel in the heart
Of Ibesikpo Asutan
The one whose glance
Cools the hottest fire
I wish i were the sun, shinning at you
I wish I were the moon looking back at you
I remember the days of emptiness
no one seemed to be anywhere around
Love and warmth became lesser than less
the killing silence the only ear deafening sound
I'm Cathryn(*) and you're Elly I presume
"feel and be your own you and it's totally okay with me"
my dearest second mom entered the room
she sat simply and silently right in front of me
I felt no longer like a worthless black swan
her tender love and care made me feel fine
suddenly there was that shoulder to cry on
and my mother who recognized me and what was mine
she shared her inner beauty now mirrored in me
she gave birth to the little girl I always wanted to be
Written for "Sonnet on a Intimate Relationship - Poetry Contest"
(c) Elly Wouterse
(*) in Dutch spelled "Cathrien'..
< enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
fourty years later someone else now cares for them
fresh cut daily and seen in her arms their long stems
tears streaming down face I sit under swollen moon
waiting watching for sun to come up again soon
to catch one more glimsp of mama's planted old gems
unfurling petals before been chopped or condemned
think I'll ask if can take one for my dining room
aroma bursting amidst thy supper's table
bowed heads we come and thank our Heavenly father
somebody still cared though sick and times unable
and answers it's door for which one has come bothered
to let bask in roses empowering fable
and not to be called as it's one's roses robber
French Sonnet is a poem with rhyme scheme
Of ABBAABBA and CDCDCD
Or ABBAABBA and CDECDE
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.
Do you like to stand there and watch me burn?
Do you enjoy listening to me cry?
When you hit me I feel as though I'll die,
Who knew that maternal love really hurt?
The freedom that I know I'll someday earn
Makes me swallow pride, tell her its not a lie,
That really it doesn't hurt and that I
Will never leave her. I know she will learn.
When I leave her standing out in the rain.
Walking away from the terrible place
I no longer stand for all the abuse.
Just stare out that sheet of glass - window pain,
Guilt ridden tears streaming down her pale face.
I am not to return, I will refuse.
You left us on the Fourth of July
Now my heart is filled with unexpected pain
I remember when you would say to look at the sky
To find the moon, now that is on memory lane.
You would sing us the sweetest lullaby
Even though you were far away
And simple phone call to pacify
The miles traveled in a day
But ever since the day you've been gone,
I've succeeded in many things you'd be proud of
It has been so hard for us to move on
I just keep thinking of you up above
No matter the miles that keep is apart
You will forever and always be in my heart.
Once a marksman was in the woods to hunt
He met a snipe as he was on his way
Snipe said “don’t hunt my kids if you confront
As they have gone in the forest to play”.
"Alright, But how shall I know they’re your kids?
Tell me something about what they look like?"
"Oh, Marksman, they’re the most beautiful kids!"
Nodding not to shoot them, went on his hike.
On return, a string of young snipes he held
The snipe crying looking at her kids dead.
"Oh, why didn’t you shoot me in my kids’ stead?"
"I’ve shot the ugly I could find instead."
The snipe said “Woe to me, don't you know” fool”
Moms think their children the most beautiful”.
March 12, 2014
Third Place Win
Contest:Hunt for a Sonnet Gems & Seven Stones in the Crown by Debbie Guzzi
PS: I had entered this poem on 3/4/14 but I was giving final once over to the poem, I don't know somewhere I clicked and the whole page went blank. So I have reposted it again
MOTHER’S LITTLE KILLERS
She hates them, the unguent power
Which sticks her fairy wings together
Making impossible the ivory tower
Of disinterested passion, the if and whether
Of generic names, the ultimate aloneness.
The honest answer is to unstick
The loathsome epithets accompanying the mess
Let her soul free with a lexographic brick
As she goes on her desert train to limbo -
Grant her freedom to ride into the dusk
Without turning her into a soulless bimbo,
Pills shedding the epigrammatic husk,
Cavorting in the lunar satellite,
A spaced monkey too drugged to fight