Knowing She Sees How Deeply She Is Missed

Knowing She Sees How Deeply She Is Missed
(Tribute To That Greatest Of Love, A Mother's)


Blue-cold morns rising to light a fire
mother, cooked on wood stove truly ancient.
She out of sweetest of love's truest desire
provided nourishing food so patient.

Not asking praise for her unselfish deeds
washing dirty clothes in an old wash-pan.
By love's examples she planted new seeds
windy-flames of reliance such did fan.

Now time, with its many decades have flown
beloved mom, passed on to her reward.
We, her thriving huge brood, are now all grown,
feel her love and know why she worked so hard.

Knowing she sees how deeply she is missed
we thank her, each beloved face she kissed.

Robert J. Lindley, 8-11-2017
SONNET, (Tribute to our mother and to mothers everywhere, THAT SACRIFICE WITH THE DEEPEST OF UNSELFISH LOVE FOR THEIR CHILDREN)

------

I started this poem back in May, 2017. I finished the last two verses this morn. 
Hesitant to post because I feel it is not worthy enough but alas (!), I also know with my meager writing talent , I can do no better.
Thus, with my wife's prodding, I post and pray it is deem worthy as a tribute by all that read and love ever so dearly their own wonderful and loving mothers! 



Beauty That Rivals The Red Rose

He the gardener she the rose
She was only flower he chose
Days he gave her his very best
Under moonlight glow they both rest.

With great care he keeps her from harm
Always enamored by her charm
Whenever she mentions her thirst
Sate her needs, he is always first.

At dawn's first calling she wakes up
Her petals with his hands he cups
With true love, admiring her grace
This dark world together they face.

His life for her beauty so fair.
Together, love's beauty they share.

Robert J. Lindley, 8-10-2017 

Cyhydedd Fer Sonnet,
8 syllable lines
.. a. a. b. b. . . c. c. d. d. . . e. e. f. f. . . g. g

Syllables Per Line: 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8 8 8 0 8 8
Total # Syllables: 112
Total # Words: 	88
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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O.J. Hunt Avatar
August 19, 2017 at 12:18 PM
Powerful and graceful, full of honor and love written from a well weaved pen. A fave:-)
Williams Avatar
August 15, 2017 at 3:45 AM
I commented on Beauty That Rivals The Red Rose before and also "Knowing she sees how deeply she is missed', and it seems to have disappeared Robert. Back again to say what a wonderful tribute to your Mother, she would be so thrilled to read it. Bravo and a fav....Maria
Swartz Avatar
August 12, 2017 at 11:02 AM
You should not have had any trepidation for sharing this. This is beauty. This is adoration. This is love. Pure and perfect poetry. Great job!
Daniel Avatar
August 12, 2017 at 10:09 AM
This is such an excellent tribute to your mother and all mothers, Robert, the final couplet sums it all up so beautifully:) worth the effort:) a favourite:)
Cresswell Avatar
August 12, 2017 at 9:24 AM
To me it is not the how, that can be learned; its is the what/content of a poem that is important, that can not be learned. The writer must be writing from the heart to make a poem live. You have done this well Robert. Any Mum would be proud.
Dietrich Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 9:04 PM
Robert, you took such great pains to compose your sonnet and also this one below it I really like as well. Your love for your mother is strong in your sonnet. She IS above looking down at you and smiling. A fave for this one.
White Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 12:59 PM
Really beautiful my friend. A truly wonderful tribute. The final two lines especially are fantastic.
Cresswell Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 11:13 AM
It reads so smoothly and touches my gardeners heart.
Williams Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 9:17 AM
This is such a beautifully romantic poem Robert so nicely captured in the analogy of a rose, my favorite flower. I enjoyed the read. thank you very much.
Daniel Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 7:46 AM
What a beautiful romantic sonnet, Robert!! It's lovely when one finds the Rose of his life:)
Pandit Avatar
August 11, 2017 at 7:12 AM
Beautiful love poem sonnet, Robert--love the details you provide at the end of the poem.
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