73 My Mother

73.

My Mother



My Mother, maybe like the others

Is conscious in family matters



I know her rags-to-money story

And money-to-rags-tragedy



When I began to be world conscious

Her presence – I was sometimes anxious



For she used to be irritable

Making my simple flaws terrible



Occasionally, she shouts at me

Eventhough I am not far from thee



Yet, my mother's ever generous

She's the one who used to buy me toys



Like Tatay, she'll not make me hungry

That's my parents' greatest legacy



Besides that, to her I attribute

My college institute



She worked for almost twenty-four hours

Burned too much her delicate eyebrows



I regret I still can't compensate

Everything she had done for me great



If given chance to reincarnate

I want for myself to be a straight



So that I'll not be again her guilt!



-11/28/2011

(Dumarao)

*First Incubus Collection
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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January 14, 2026 at 10:03 PM
Great poem
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