'Twas our Christmas Eve dinner; we all had sat down
at the table to eat. Grandma couldn’t be found!
We children were fussing; Dad rose to his feet.
shouting, “Where are you, Ma? We’re ready to eat!”
When from the next room we heard such a noise
Jenny squealed, “Santa Claus must have brought toys!”
We then heard a sound like a whimpering pup
saying, “Help. I’ve fallen and cannot get up.”
Grandpa jumped up and then rushed to the door
that led to the bathroom. There on the floor
lay our poor grandma, eyes widened in fear,
looking like she’d got run over by reindeer!
The dresser had fallen. It had her pinned down.
Grandma was wildly flailing around.
More swiftly than Rudolph, we did all we were able.
We unpinned her. Then Mom yelled, “Back to the table!”
Back to the dining room all we kids came
As our mom started to call us by name.
“Davy, Mel, Jenny, Angie, Marie. . .
Get back here now. I’m counting to three!”
Like animals not having eaten all day,
stuck in a cage without getting their way,
we sat at that table our bellies all growling,
and Davy, the baby, by now was howling.
And then finally what did appear?
Dad with our grandpa and grandma so dear!
Supported by both our grandpa and dad,
Grandma was flushed and looking quite bad.
She was dressed in a housecoat trimmed in white lace
and a big purple bruise had now formed on her face.
Mom pulled out a chair helping Grandma to sit,
and then our dad bellowed, “OK, have at it!”
Our mouths how they watered to see the large ham.
“And that isn’t all,” said Mom, “I made lamb!”
Her small pretty mouth was turned up in a grin,
“The food’s getting cold now. Children, dig in.”
Our dad how he laughed as he poured lots of gravy
onto his potatoes and kidded with Davy.
And Grandma sat smiling despite her great fall
while Grandpa gulped spiked nog, not talking at all.
With eyes that seemed bigger than my own belly,
I dished out big spoonfuls of cranberry jelly.
Mom winked and I knew I had nothing to dread.
Her pleasure was in us all being well fed.
I went straight to work at stuffing my face
when suddenly Mom said, “We didn’t say grace!”
We closed our eyes listening to our dad’s prayer.
I peeked but was met by my mom’s warning stare!
Dad finished the prayer with a hearty Amen.
Then we were all grabbing Mom’s fixings again.
When the food had all vanished and our stomachs hurt,
we heard Dad exclaim, “So what’s for dessert?”
For the Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale - Poetry Contest
of Carol Eastman
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
Ride with me on my time machine to a different time and place
Return with me and let me see if I can put a smile upon your face
To the days of AM radio and the TV was black and white
To lying in a grassy field and counting stars at night
Popcorn and soda in the balcony at a Saturday matinee
Parades led by the High School Band on Decoration Day
Dressing up and going door to door on the night of Halloween
Cigarettes rolled in your shirt, pretending to be James Dean
Pep rallies before the football games, everybody stand and cheer
Going in the woods with your friends at night, sharing a quart of beer
That feeling inside, turning red, when she smiled at you at the dance
Wanting to kiss her goodnight, but you were afraid to take a chance
Playing chase tag at night in the neighborhood, hiding behind a tree
Holding hands with your first steady, so all your friends could see
Medicine Show at the end of town in a giant canvas tent
Saving pennies for a rainy day, fasting on candy for Lent
Going for a Sunday ride with Mom and Dad in the family car
Playing in the yard at night, putting lightning bugs in a jar
Drag racing on that long stretch of road, Chevy was hard to beat
Stealing peaches from a neighbor’s tree, always seemed so sweet
Riding bikes all over town, never knowing the meaning of fear
Identifying cars by their tail lights, make and model and year
News and Stooges at the theatre before the movie starts
Valentine’s day I love you written on tiny candy hearts
Easter bonnets and picking flowers for Mom on Mother’s Day
Opening day at the community pool the last weekend in May
Sock hop in the auditorium, collar up, trying to play it cool
Meeting friends at the usual place, everyday after school
Six for a quarter on the juke box, music that would move your soul
Return with me now to those glory days and the birth of rock and roll.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009
When I was a child, you would hold me tight
When I went to bed, you would kiss me good-night
At times I know, I was really bad,
You were always patient, not often mad.
As I got older, my love for you grew
My perfect flower, covered in dew.
No matter what I did, I knew you were there,
Always willing to forgive, showing me you care.
When I got married and moved away,
I thought about you just about every day.
The child that grew under my heart,
Showed me how much of you, that I was a part.
At times I needed you but I didn't call,
I knew how much you worried about us all.
I had so much inside, I wanted you to know
So hard, it was for me, to let my feelings show.
Although I didn't say it, I'm sure you could see,
That you meant the whole world to me.
There was no time to say good-by,
So now, deep inside of me, I cry.
I know that you are happy, up in heaven
Some souls have no one, you have seven.
I feel so empty I don't know what to do,
You have taken my heart with you.
I will always feel this emptiness within,
Until, my dear Mother, I see you again.
Until then I want you to know,
I love you Mom, I loved you so.
Copyright © Karla Null | Year Posted 2010
Mom, I am coming to visit you,
I picked a red rose fresh with dew.
The bus ride mother is hours long,
Miles to go and I hum your song.
I'll be seeing you was playing,
Mom, I ended your suffering.
Now, I am walking a long road,
Unplug her! How my tears flowed.
At your tomb, I fall to my knees,
Mom, I miss you- forgive me please.
April 23, 2016
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
I wish that I could write
Like my son the poet
I'm just an amateur
And well I know it
I search the site
And there again
He has written something wonderful
With his amazing pen
Wish that I might write
As he has done
I know I am extremely proud
Of my wonderfully talented son
Dedicated to my son Richard poet extraordinaire
I am so glad that all my children are different
I can love you all for different reasons
Copyright © Mama Bear | Year Posted 2014
Mom,I miss your smiling face
Your loving voice and embrace
You're considerate and kind
You are everyday in my mind
Dear mom, it's you I do miss
I send you a hug and a kiss
You give me your tender love
Which comes from God above
I can't ever thank you enough
For all the love you've shown me
Grateful for all the things
Through the years you've given me
Dear mom, I miss your loving face
No other love can ever take your place.
Dorian Petersen Potter
This is a heartfelt Mothers Day dedication to my very dear Mum and all the Moms in the world:)
Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter | Year Posted 2015
Oh mom I see your blood.
It runs from your nose like a flood.
I cannot run or even hide.
I am screaming inside.
Why is he after me.
I am too little to flee.
I cannot scream or cry loud.
Oh God who am I now.
Where are you mom for I fear.
Oh God, I need you near.
I am so confused.
Why have I been abused.
Mom I see an Angel near.
Now we have nothing to fear.
Why did he do these things to us...
Edward J. Ebbs :(
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2011
< I really hate to do laundry
Why can't it be hands free ?
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
The youngest seventy five year old, that I've ever known
Because of your happy, you will never be alone
Whether you're playing card games, or out on the dance floor
You make the place happy, when you walk though the door
Perhaps a bit silly, but with me that is okay
Let others be serious, I much prefer play
Life shouldn't be wasted, I know that's what you think
You enjoy every moment and you don't need to drink
So here is to living, you are an example to all
You'll never be a flower, that blends into a wall
Yes forever young, I will try to live life your way
Good times or bad times, I'll make the best of each day
Written for my mom for my upcoming visit home.
You are terrific mom, and if you are reading this "bad mommy"
You didn't follow instructions. See you later, love Rick.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
In mind's eye I reminisce, watching children play
of a spring day sitting here, seeing my children play
blessed to see their smiles, when they hit, slid or fell
A happy day begin playing ball, in this story I will tell
A kiss and hug I get, dad please take us to the fair
Seeing the rides, ooh's, awe's echo from our pair
Eating fried dough, peanuts, "Boy! see the games over there"
We're playing with family and friends, as they make a dare
Can't miss any ride that twists, mixes, spins or flys in the air
There's so much to see, ride and play with, in a day at the fair
Hearing "thanks mom and dad" that night, walking to the car
"Stay awake" they say as we move, you know they can't get far
This day all started with thoughts of fun, smiles and laughs
both asleep, with their dreams, today, mom and dad can laugh
Any poem you posted during this month of* APRIL ~except ~ No! No! Bunny poems, or Easter poems..NOR other contest entries.
entered by Tom Larrow
Copyright © Tom Larrow | Year Posted 2012
Mother’s Day depresses me
because the way Mom sees me
when I came home from service
she rarely gave me notice
and labeled me not normal
never was an animal
she always looked down at me
to her I shouldn’t be free
is it some kind abuse?
she was very nice to Deuce
Deuce was her old friend
my life there to end
I feel guilty for having these thoughts
I always knew my life at home rots
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
I watch him how he talks to her.
He pleases her without demur.
He hasn't said one cruel word,
As if he lives in angels' world.
He is indeed a walking one.
He is naive and full of fun.
I feel ashamed when him I see,
Show greater love than poor me.
I've always thought I love her more,
Than words can tell or explore.
He loves his mom beyond compare.
I haven't seen such love and care.
I think he has no equal teacher,
Although he is a tiny creature.
I love to watch this kind of love.
This is my child I'm so proud of.
Copyright © OMAR JABAK | Year Posted 2015
A mother's holiday should be everyday,
To show you the thanks I wish to repay.
A million word poem could never consist,
Of all that you do - a lifetime of lists.
So Ill keep it short - a miniature report.
To convey my gratitude for all your support.
Preparing this thank-you, builds tears in my eyes.
The bulletproof bond we share never dies.
Countless memories we've made as a pair,
Has given me more than I can compare
Your lessons of chivalry I've cherished so dear.
You've molded my heart to love with no fear.
Your lullaby songs that put me to sleep,
Created a herd of infinite sheep.
Happy Mother's Day Mom, I hope you enjoy.
Much love from your son, your grown baby boy.
- Yours Truly
Copyright © Yours Truly | Year Posted 2013
When a building is collapsed, you may construct new one When a tree is cut, with a sapling, you may get it done
When money is lost, you may earn When health is lost, you may darn
When you miss to enjoy beauty of dawn, you have a chance When you miss to embrace the breeze, you may get a glance
When you miss a movie, you have the prospect When you miss a bus, next one you may expect
When you miss a poem, you may get the text When you miss a chance, you may wait for the next!
When a mother is lost It indicates the end of the most!
Is there anyone to replace? Or to assure you peace?
None! Not even the god! Or to get back, there is no method!
For god comes in the form of mother! To compare with her, there is no other!!
Above poem is adapted from the eBook “YOU CAN CHANGE! WITH YOUR VOTE!! AND OTHER MIXED POEMS” by Mr.V.Muthu manickam. Copyright is held by V.Muthu manickam.
Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM | Year Posted 2015
She's no Aphrodite, but sweet as honey-
not weak or flighty; she hoards her money.
She then turns around and Oh, Lord Almighty-
does something profound she thinks is alrighty.
She doesn't make a fuss,
just hands it all to us.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
LOVE YOU MOM
"a treasure is the gift of a mother's love"
.The day you passed my heart shattered.
My lifes a mess and feels like it doesn't matter.
Your not here to make things right.
So I feel so alone at night.
If only I could hear your own words spoken.
My heart would no longer be broken.
Oh my sweet mama I miss you so much.
Your arms holding me with that mothers touch.
There is no answer for the question WHY?.
Your passing is why we cry.
Everyday I see something that reminds me of you.
Roses,coffee,newspaper and morning dew.
My memories of you I will always keep.
A place in my heart so deep.
Teresa Skyles 26-Aug-11
Entered in Constance La France~a rambling poet~"Mothers"contest
Copyright © T.A. Skyles-Theoklapoet | Year Posted 2011
Before I start on my very funny life,
I'll hand over what seems like a very tiny knife.
Here's a little clue,
To guess my age too,
I'm younger than you think,
At the bottom of the age sink,
Family is the starting point,
But I'm the sticking out joint.
Dad, we seldom see,
But he's more like me.
His ambition used to be,
Writing a book while drinking tea,
Mom is more like the master,
Of the household disaster.
She claims that she could have been,
An army captain and a engineer of tin.
We should have been the perfect triangle,
But instead us three made a perfect tangle.
Sis and Little Sis, they matched up,
For they could draw a perfect pup.
Me over here,I just shot out,
I couldn't even draw a single perfect clout.
Instead of entering the artistic home,
I entered Dad's dusty, old tome.
That's right, I was born a bookworm.
That's how it came out during that term.
Now let me introduce them and me.
We weren't that fond of tea.
Sis is the negative of the bunch.
She was famous for her hard punch.
Thinking deep thoughts,
Drawing something other than clots,
Confined mostly in her arcane space,
Not joining the fun race.
Little sis is the perfect mix,
Leaving definitely nothing to fix.
Though younger than me,
She draws everything there is to see.
Me, there's nothing I would tell,
You'll have to guess, looking at this deep, dark well.
Copyright © Sarah P. | Year Posted 2015
Mommy, why do you keep putting that needle in your arm?
Why do you keep putting us at harm?
Mommy why do you keep putting that needle in your leg?
How many times do we have to plead and beg?
Mommy, are we not enough for you to put the drugs down?
Are we not worth being around?
Mommy please, you have to let the drugs go.
We want our old mommy back and all the love you used to show.
Our beautiful mommy who was forever so lively and bright.
Can't be so weak to give up this fight.
Do you want to watch us grow up big and strong?
Do you not realize your teaching us wrong?
Slowly we watch as your slipping away.
All we do is worry more and more everyday.
Mommy, you need to face your addiction, no longer can you run.
You have two children who need you, a daughter and a son.
We are so scared that one day we will find our mommy dead.
With a needle in her arm, lifeless on the bed.
If your not strong enough to do it for us then do it for yourself.
Stop making us worry about your safety and health.
We just want our mommy back, the way she used to be.
Before the drugs took over, a loving caring mommy is what we need.
Mommy, we need you out here with us, helping dad.
We are so sick and tired of being lonely and sad.
Its not fair for daddy to raise us on his own.
So get your act together, get clean and come home.
We hope this time you can truly stay sober.
We hope this time it will finally be all over.
Once again be the loving mother and wife we know you can be.
We miss you so much mommy and hope this time you can stay clean.
Mommy, you are very loved by us but we cant accept the things you choose to do.
You can win this battle mommy, we know you can because we believe in you.
This poem is dedicated to my children: Daunavyn and DayonaLee
I wrote this while being incarcerated at Sarasota County jail. I am a struggling addict trying hard to accomplish my goal and become a recovered addict.
When I took the time to see my addiction through the eyes of my children I finally realized how much it had, is and was affecting them.
Copyright © DonnaLee Ballard | Year Posted 2014
no wonder my trust
'is nothing but rust
they say I'm too serious
but never delirious
its my humor that got me through
and those years drinking that strong brew
no matter what'
wasn't a squat
my mom is a saint
but to me she ain't
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016
Hi guys please go through my new poem..
Mom: My Beauteous Lucky Charm
I came alone in this beautiful world,
And I have to leave this world alone.
Nowhere in this journey of life I wanna lack,
I have to live the life with its full spirit and wanna carry happiness in my sack!
Refreshing the moments when,
Two souls flamed in passion of love.
Merging the sperm and ovum.
Formation of egg, Resulting into a developed embryo,
They Created me!
Irritating my mom right from the start,
Ejecting me out and my mom is in pain.
Getting emotional around,
Both of us burst out in tears.
Sorry Mom I won't hurt you again!
Its the feeling which nobody can damn understand.
Connecting me around herself,
Introducing me with my dad,
Whatsoever I just love my Mom.
She is the one who caressed me,
She is the one who cuddled me.
She is one who actively participated in my activities,
She is the one who holded me happily ever.
She is the one who made me strong enough to tackle the things,
She is one who supported me when I need it.
Encouraged me, My energizer,
Dramatically she is the one who made me laugh when I am sad.
Thanks mom for whatever you, kind-heartedly shower!
When the moon fades, She started my day with a bright sunshine,
She never wanted to leave me alone.
She is one who gifted me my younger brother,
She is the one who taught me to value relationship.
She is one who controlled my patience when l am flaming in aggression,
Feeling glad to be a part of your soul.
Ferociously I flowed in your love,
Thanks Mom, As You bestowed priceless gift of blessings!
Her expectations l just wanna fulfil,
But be yourself, I pray god.
Don't change yourself according to the circumstances,
She is the one who tried to mould herself when the entire family is in sustained pain.
Hugging you, Releasing my thoughts,
Wanted you to be mine , My Sweetest Mom ever.
By Madhavi Suyog Pagare
Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013
Pop was quite a poet,
though his bio wouldn’t show it,
with the exception of this little poem
which I really do feel I owe him.
He was happiest working in the wood,
and did so when ere he could.
That was one of his necessary incomes,
for his five daughters and four sons.
It was then he would sing a song,
Always short and politically wrong.
The rhymes could make us boys smile,
If not but for just a little while.
In the woods he was a self educated master,
He loved it there; peace is what he was after,
Everywhere else, us boys were a bit wary,
His temper trigger was a little hairy.
Brought up roughly, a Canadian farmer’s son,
A machine gunner in the Second Big One,
I never heard those gruesome stories very often,
Only when he allowed his heart to soften.
PTSD and nightmares were his living hell,
complicated with Malaria fevers as well.
With depression a formidable resistance,
He farmed for his family’s existence.
In good moments he would sing poems of an alter life,
Where there was, obviously, no such strife,
Of “when he would go swimmin
With many bull legged wimmin”.
Those feeling good songs rang out loud and gay,
To keep his painful depression at bay.
“Yes ... we have no bannaners,
We have no bannaners today!”
Canadian French was his language norm,
So many of his songs took that form.
I’m sure Mom was his best and biggest fan,
She must have really loved that man.
He had a hard life and his song poems helped him through,
We were often at odds but he did what I could never do.
An unknown hard man with a well hidden poetic heart,
I don’t think he knew it, but Mom did from the start.
For each of his children’s names, he made a French rhyme,
Making the most of poetic license for each of his nine.
They probably weren’t politically correct…
But at least for that one moment,
we .. Each of us ... were his elect.
( Dedicated to the memory of
Rene Francis Dufresne 1917-1998 )
written by Bob Dufresne 6/5/11
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2011
Gobs of happiness, bundles of joy!
My sister turned out to be a boy
Mom said, “Welcome your little brother!”
She'd been promising me the other
You know! EEEW... a baby sister!
Imagine if I had to kiss her!
Thanks to the stork way up high
If Mom had a girl, I'd probably die!
Sisters don't wrestle or play with guns
They play with dollies, have girlie fun
Glad the way things have turned out
Us guys are buds, there's really no doubt!
I know! I realize they're people too
In fact, some are cute, this is true
But if you're gonna give me my druthers
I would much prefer a baby brother!
The moral is, if you eat your veggies
Your Mom will be happy and never edgy
A contented Mom will usually bear fruit
With a baby boy who'll be cuter than cute!
These are the words of a real little boy
Who won't even try to hide his joy!
He comes right out, it's not a quiz
Boys are superior and that's how it is!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013
Bhulo sabhi ko magar maa-baap ko bhulna nhi.
upkaar anganit hai unke, iss baat ko bhulna nhi.
pathar puje kai,tumhare janm ki khatir
pathar bn maa-baap ka dil kuchalna nhi.
mukh ka niwala de, jinhone tumhe bra kiya
amrit pilaya tumko, jahar unke liye ugalna nhi.
kitne lraye laar, sb arman v pure kiye
pure kro arman unke baat yeh bhulna nhi.
santan se seva chaho, santan bn seva kro
jaisi karni waisi bharni, nyay yeh bhulna nhi.
so kr swang gile me, sulaya tumhe sukhi jagah
maa ki amimay aankho ko, bhulkr v kbhi bhingona nhi.
jisne bichhaye phool the hardam tumhari raho me
uss rahwar ki rah k, kantak kbhi bnna nhi.
dhan to mil jayega magar, maa-baap kya mil payenge?
pal-pal pawan unn charan ki, chah kbhi bhulna nhi..
Copyright © Shikha Mishra Jnv | Year Posted 2015
MEMORIES OF MOM
The years have passed but memories stay.
My memories of you will never go away.
I'll never forget your dark brown hair.
In cascade curls and a french rolled flair.
Wearing black slacks and a man's white shirt.
Never wore a dress or even a skirt.
She was a good mom and a terrific cook.
Before bedtime she'd read from the good book.
We never had much but mom done her best.
She was never lonely and never had a empty nest.
Our mom loved her children with all she had.
She taught us well cause she was our mom and dad.
Her children love and miss her with all their hearts.
We'll hold our memories from the end to the start.
Teresa Skyles 08-Aug-11
Copyright © T.A. Skyles-Theoklapoet | Year Posted 2011
You may be a renowned scholar
You may have earned billions of dollar
You may live in palatial luxury
You may be an acclaimed jury
You may be a hero of the society
Or you may suffer from utter poverty
You may find life, as a struggle
You may pass life, as a single
Yet, you should honor your mother,
should your life pass smoother!
Her nobility, if you are reluctant to honor,
then you deserve no honor!
Above poem is adapted from the eBook “YOU CAN CHANGE! WITH YOUR VOTE!! AND OTHER MIXED POEMS” by Mr.V.Muthu manickam. Copyright is held by V.Muthu manickam.
Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM | Year Posted 2016
Goodbye mommy, goodbye my love,
You are my God, worth dreaming of.
Losing your thoughts, you are so lost!
You do not know who you can trust.
What else is there? It's only pain;
I am crying, a quiet rain.
How can I find you, when you're gone?
My days are numbered, gone with dawn.
Who's holding you, when you do walk?
Nobody's there for you to talk.
I left you there, forgive me mom.
I cried and cried you looked so calm.
I said goodbye and left you there.
I am alone, growing despair.
Goodbye mommy, goodbye my dove,
You’re my angel, angel of love.
Forgive me mom, I left you there.
To me my love, life is unfair.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
So much that I could say about you. All Good of course.
How about the great wife you were to my father until his death?
My brain cannot produce sufficient words of your ‘mother mastery’.
For sure, heaven’s angels helped you raise all twelve of us kids.
Till we were grown, you put us first, long after daddy’s demise.
But today Mom, please allow me to remind you of a situation.
One day, you hastily set me straight about my younger brother and me.
My older brother had enlisted in the army, leaving me as the oldest son.
I started being unkind and impatient toward my younger brother. As my older brother had done with me, I began to pick fights with him.
Mom, spotting this unacceptable behavior right away, you nailed me on it.
It amazes me that I so clearly remember the room that we were in.
You planted a lasting seed in my heart of how it was going to be in our home.
Mom, there are myriads of lessons learned from you; this is just one of them.
04232016 PS Contest, To Mom, by Francine Roberts
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2016
Year 1974,75 and 77 was the years for me.
That's when I decided to have just my three.
Those three were give to me by our Lord above.
Since the day they were born they've filled my
heart with joy and love.
When they were born I was in a wheelchair.
Just to have them I knew life was fair.
I was as close to them as a mom could be.
They were my all my wonderful three.
I have two boys and a girl.
With those three lifes been a whirl.
Their all grown-up now with kids of their own.
Now all they do is cry and moan.
They say I'm the best mom and grandmother.
Cause to them I'm like no other.
Entered in Waylee Whitlock's"My children"contest
Copyright © T.A. Skyles-Theoklapoet | Year Posted 2011
“You’re such a hypochondriac,”
They say with a smirk
As they roll their eyes
I try to come up with lies…
But they just don’t see
The hypochondriac isn’t me
But that 12 year old child
Who nearly went wild
To see Mom lying in bed
Blood gushing from her head
Yet Mom smiled through her tears,
“I’m fine…don’t worry, my dear.”
It’s that little girl who grew
Not knowing what to do
Believing that it’s no lie
Mommy WAS going to die
MS was the monster
That Mamma couldn’t conquer
“Are you afraid I’m going to die?”
Mamma asked her one day
She couldn’t run away
So she gulped down the tears
As Mamma rocked away her fears
But never said it wasn’t so
Yes, she was going to go
After the broken legs and stiches
The garbled speech and twitches
The wheel chair and near misses
All the lopsided kisses
The choking and pain
The burial in the rain
I look at them and say….
“Yes, the hypochondriac is me
Now will you please set me free.”
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2012
Mom is for helping you into your seat and helping you out of tall trees
Mom is for bumps, bruises and scratches on your knees
Mom is for cooking meatloaf, corn and mashed potatoes
Mom is for helping you with a word that nobody knows
Mom is for kittens, puppies, hermit crabs and fish
Mom is for calming you down when homework is due and it’s already ninish
Mom is for artwork, carburetors and giving hugs when you really need one
Mom is for emergencies and sewing buttons back on
Mom is for helping to make the hardest decisions
Mom is for finding peace in the most frightening conditions
Mom is for very important things, like finding a lovely wife
Mom is even more important for learning how to love one’s life
Copyright © Beau Regard | Year Posted 2010