I blink back my tears
as I look down
on your frail body.
If only you can understand
what I feel for you,
there's nothing I wouldn't do
to see you healthy and strong,
to see your limbs full,
to watch you walk alone,
to see you eat a hearty meal.
Alas it is not to be.
Cruel father time will take his toll,
and your strength will recede
more and more,
like a wave that strikes the rocks
only to rise and fall.
Yet I shall never forget
I was born in your womb.
You are my life,
I owe you much.
Forever we'll remain,
forever we'll soar.
Copyright © Black Man | Year Posted 2017
this is inspired by a picture of a guy looking at a piece of bread with one candle
on it, http://allpoetry.com/amyrowsell
today would be our first wedding anniversary
but I lost her, a month ago
a guy was driving drunk and crossed the line
that night he took the life of mine
you think that they would learn
driving is a privilege you have to earn
I hate him for what he has done
he took away a mother from me and our young son
nobody wins when people drive drunk
Copyright © Amy Rowsell | Year Posted 2008
Autumn winds sway the trees,
blowing, swirling dry brown leaves,
coats of dogs and cats get thick,
dusk is grey and comes too quick.
Early morning skies are pale,
fog becomes an earthly veil,
great piles of pumpkins crowd the stores,
Halloween candies by the door.
Iron colored is the sky,
jostling clouds hurtle by,
kitchens smell of pumpkin pies,
lightning crackles through the skies.
Meadows brown and fields lie fallow,
noon is bleak, the light seems shallow,
October is a month of death,
poppies draw their final breath.
Quick as death the summer's gone,
rain and tears are Autumn's song,
silent God who answers naught,
thirty years of answers sought.
Under bleak and barren trees,
voiceless sorrow no one sees,
weary souls detest their fate,
and search in vain for heaven's gate.
Yesterday was just a dream
of zippered lips and childhood screams.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2008
(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.
(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.
(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.
(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.
(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.
Copyright © Tay Reid | Year Posted 2013
‘0 LITTLE WHITE TABLET’
O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
No-one told me, when they introduced me to
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years.
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.
This poem refers to prescribed drugs
Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2011
I was just trying to remember the past
trying to remember the good people
and the bad people,
that i came across on my way,
i want you to know
that you are among the good people
that left a good trace in my life,
once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.
Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012
Mama I’m growing Up Now
Mama I’m growing up now, but will you help me for I don’t know how.
I want to know what it’s like to be a little older.
I want to know the feeling of being somewhat bolder.
I want to be able to live my dreams, I need to know if they have any meanings.
I have my fears that I do hide, I want to know how to bring them outside.
I want to know what it’s like to be living on my own.
Living in a house that I can call my own.
I’m not really worried of what is yet to be
For I am growing up now, I’ll take good care of me.
But if the first time I should fail I hope you understand,
For I am still yet learning and I need your helping hand.
I want to do the things that most kids just won’t do
For I myself am different, I want something new.
Mama I’m grown up now but without you I would’nt know how.
I’ve grown a little bolder and my worlds a little colder
Thank you mama for giving me not one but both your shoulders.
I’ve faced my fears, I’ve cried my tears
I’ve lived with pain for many years.
I’ve lived my dreams and found no meaning.
I lay alone in my bed at nigh
Thinking and wondering with an awful fright
I’m thinking of what is yet to be.
I wonder if I can raise the rest of me.
Copyright © kitty jones | Year Posted 2013
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
I wrapped all my tears, to see you smile.
you are the best, always by my side.
I tell you my feelings will get you crying,
you must think I’m out of my mind.
You don’t know, what I know,
all the angels let me go.
We were born to teethe and die,
you will grow to be so fine.
Fall in love, feel your softer side,
Remember me when life is kind.
When you go, let me know,
don’t walk away like the world and go.
Life is rough and the world unkind,
fight them down and you will be fine.
The truth of live is a brutal sight,
make no mistakes, you can learn from mine.
You have a strong heart, you are unique
I treasure times when you smile at me.
Live the life, I could not find,
be there for me, when I say goodbye.
Copyright © Karan Patade | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
Woman of God,
A Diamond is what you are,
Beautiful & special & sweet,
A diamond a person would strive for,
Built with the lord's armor,
A diamond is the hardest thing to break,
You are shielded and protected by God,
You are my diamond,
My diamond with much wisdom,
You may be a short statue,
But you are wealthy and rich,
In my heart and in the eyes of the lord,
This is simply your time,
Your time and honor,
You lived a wonderful life,
Guided us and teached us the right thing to do,
And I appreciate you,
My pastor, my beautiful grandmother,
And my honorable Diamond,
Prophetess E. J. Woodford!!
Copyright © Vernard Mays | Year Posted 2010
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
is deep sorrow piercing the
heart that must weep to release
what the flesh can't overcome.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2015
For nine months
With love and pain
With joy and suffering
In her womb she carried me
A mother she is
And a woman of virtue.
When there was no one, she was the only one
Even left alone, she never leaves me alone
Indeed, she’s a mother
And a woman of virtue.
When toddling, she cared
And still directs when I could run
She is a mother of the child and the adult
In her thoughts are all, even the descendants to come
Many names will I call her; “A mother of all”
And a Woman of Virtue.
Copyright © Francis Twumasi | Year Posted 2012
This is your day in the sun,
Your day of triumph,
Of promise and intention,
Of New Beginnings,
The end of loneliness.
This is the new foundation,
The plying together of bricks and mortar
The bricks to give colour and shape,
The mortar to give structure and soundness,
So that together you are an impregnable fortress
With doors of heartfelt love,
Windows of vision,
Rooms of peace and generousity,
Furnishings of service and beauty,
And a garden of sweet memories to grow.
I wish you success at every turn,
Joy on every path,
Delight in all the little things of life,
Deeply rooted and vigorously sprouting shoots of loyalty and love
Nurtured on the fertiliser of experience and wisdom,
LONG LIFE TOGETHER!
Copyright © Helen Murray | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
When I hold your hand
I know its true
your love for me
has truly grew
from a hill to a
your the only one
I can count on
to be there when times
in all your sweet
kisses and hugs, you
have shown me
your love is my treasure
and we can stand strong
through any weather
as turtle doves,
we fly together forever
when I hold your hand
Copyright © Heather Hill | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
America resides within the heart of all
Who believe in freedom, choice, voice and opportunity
Deny, not, the display of pride within yourself
Or else you’d deny pride in this land of the free
America, more than land, it’s home to you and me
Some dare tread, take arms against and try to squash
All that America ever stood for, which is evident to all
They fear the freedom, strength and all that’s offered
As they know, against us, they would never stand tall
And for all their attempts, America makes them fall
This 9-11, let us not focus on terrorist actions
But, on those Americans lost, that still live in our hearts
Remember and honor them by living the American dream
Exhibiting the ideals and always doing our part
Showing all, America has muscle but lives through its heart
Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2011
Mom you're so lovely!
Like my lil’ bunny!
Your arms are fluffy and soft;
Want to hold you more;
Makes me feel secure;
With your hands all of me oft,
Mom you're so cuddly!
Want you beside me!
Wake me up a lil’ later;
Miss you so by then;
Like I miss you when
My eyes close and you’re not there.
* overheard my niece talking to her Mom as she was put to bed :))
Copyright © hija de la luna | Year Posted 2014
Ten years passed Maa, you left this world leaving me alone
but still I feel your presence, your tender touch, quietly lying in bed, I moan.
Always you were concerned, who will take care of me in your absence
today none is there to worry for me, in their lives, I have no importance.
Still I find myself holding your coffin, sitting by your lifeless body, on that ill-fated day,
I touched your hands and feet, cold as ice, unable to come out of dismay.
A heavenly peace on your face, comfortably sleeping, from all worldly sufferings you were away.
I cried, but never could wake you up, couldn't believe your sweet face could ever decay.
Sometimes, at leisure when I look at the sky on a peaceful night,
Sitting in my 'Hanging Garden on a lonely night beneath the serene moonlight,
I can hear your melodious voice, the songs you sang for me
Those priceless moments we spent together, lying on our terrace amidst
Shiuli, Jasmine and Hasnahana tree.
I was a teenager, blooming to be a beautiful young girl, bidding my childhood adieu,
You were proud of my beauty and talents, I was lucky to inherit from you.
You dressed me up beautifully each time I celebrated my auspicious days
You made me feel I'm the most gorgeous girl, confident in your praise.
Our children were brought up in your love and care
You once again proved to be a great grandmother.
You taught them how to live life in faith and prayer
always been pious and a true God lover.
You are the best mother ever I have met, a blessing from above
A Godly image of sacrifice, benevolence and abundance of love.
I've ne'er seen a greater animal lover, flowing water of love from a ceaseless cascade.
I've seen you taking care of sick kith and kin in their last days
Forgiving the evil they unleashed on you, you nursed them with a smiling face.
I salute your virtue of forgiveness and the Spirit of caring for your enemies,
I believe you're enjoying with our Lord in Heaven
dwelling with angels and heavenly bodies!
Copyright © Manimala Basu | Year Posted 2015
One ingredient of the artists is woman
That is why they love their mothers
I love to become an artist
So I will love my mother
She is the precious ingredient of my life
Not less than the love that speaks out itself
She is my womb when I was alone
She is my hug when I am in tears
Now I am old still I love her
I love her, I love her, I love her
I need to be old for me to get young
I realized that in my younger days
I don’t give a damn to loving her
But requested many things as if I don’t care
I love my mother, please forgive me!
I love you so much
Never and never will you leave me?
I am indeed wanted to become an artist
But the real artist is my mother
Never surrendered to hardship
I will stop not to end
Remember I wanted to become an artist
And you are my ingredient!
28 March 2012
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2012
I Had a Dream
I had a dream. Oh I had a dream.
I sat in a chair in despair thinking
of the love and memory of my mother.
In my dream I built a stairway to heaven with tears to hug her.
Halfway with out a sound or word in the silent skies
an angel appeared upon me.
It was a precious and beautiful site.
Oh! I said could you for me ask God to cross a rose and lilac together
to create a bush with large clusters of white, purple, and pink flowers
and the fragrance of memory
And give it long green stems so it can stand free and gracefully.
Also ask him to it a name, a special name ‘ Kollock ‘
and let it represent never forgotten love and memories.
In my dream God did this for me,
and gave it to my mother as a gift from me
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2008
Many people dream of having what you share...
Verisimilar love &
Enthusiastic promises of "Death Do Us Part"
Satisfaction of compromised love!
But only few stick together throughout the journey....
Copyright © constance johnson | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
Happy Birthday, baby,
This is the first year you would be
Alive and happy
Dwelling here with me…
I would have taken care of you,
Before your early flight
But on that fridged morn
My daytime gave way to night
I know that you’re with Jesus now
You’re not the one grieving any more
You have it made better than I could give
On that bright heavenly shore
You have a better birthday gift
Than I could ever give
You are walking now on streets of gold
Forever you will live
Some how that does not change the fact
About how I miss you so
But still I know I love you
This, I wanted you to know
Enjoy your birthday, now my child
Give Jesus a hug for me
Walk with Him, now let me know some how
That you still are thinking of me….
So happy birthday, baby
Though you are not a baby anymore
You have the best present anyone could give
By walking on that golden shore.
Copyright © Brandlynn Young | Year Posted 2007
Mother To The Core
Browsing through the latest online daily news articles..
Here is one about a wife caring for her sick husband..
Its lengthy title was very striking, it mentioned an ailing composer....
And a wife of 76 years old shouldering the burden as a health carer...
The lengthy title with so much information in it was downright unusual..
Immediately I knew it has to be related to a poem which I once wrote...
Some time back of a very talented man of music, music was all he wrote...
He was a most prolific composer of many a musical scores on terrestrial TV..
A government staff who was contractually engaged, never a whiff of security..
Of a monetary pension, a significant perk of being a government employee..
Last I wrote, it was a tribute to this musical genius for fame unproclaimed..
In any western country where music and fine arts have a bigger audience...
This long retired musician would have undoubtedly be in a class of his own...
Here in this country his creativity and musical contributions are all but gone...
Now into his twilight years of life, his Alzheimer's disease is curse coming on...
Reading on, this news article provided some more insights to this musical man...
And the many ill fortunes that beset the loved ones of this forgotten man..
True to the universal quote of a omnipresent woman behind any successful man..
Today's article tells of the infinite strength of the woman behind this man..
It is a story of steadfast love that weathered time even as it wears down her man..
Today 8th May being the day of universal declaration of Mother's Day all over..
This article is a timely tribute to 76 year old Elaine Khaw, a mother to the core..
How she has suffered in silence, through the early years as she mothered 2 sons.
Only God above felt her pain as a grieving mother who has to survive her son....
At an old age of 76, many a other woman luxuriates in the trappings of wealth...
But Elaine Khaw cannot rest on her laurels, she has to mother her remaining loves...
A beloved husband, a musical star fading into the fogginess of Alzheimer's...
And a much loved son embattled with the remission of a cancer once gone...
As she soldiers stoically on, behind a cheerful demeanor that amazes all...
Elaine Khaw is a survivor, she is the epitome of motherhood to surpass all...
Happy Mother's Day..!
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2016
Its your Halloween rave, having your mascaraed
With all your best friends from back in the day
Liz Lauren and Blake and while they're dressed like skanks
I'm on the front line of battle
Howlin like jackle with A real nasty cackle
puttin a razor blade in the sack of Blake's apples
crack in Lauren's snapple
Staddle Liz like mclovin
But I am more like faghole As I babble at her ass
Axe her fast and mash her up like cattle
Sneak back and tackle your dad and put him in shackles
Shove sour patch kids Down your trap and gaggle
Its abominable, so unbelievable
But its inevitable, the end is kissable
I have rattled these kids psyches
squirming like a centipede, cutting them like celery
hear their squeamish screams echo in the streets
as the creepy bells of the chapel ring
I remain a mystery
You'll need nancy drew, and at least 3 of the hardee boys to find what I'm up to
Theres this gloom that looms down in your basement room
Consuming shrooms, enhaling fumes to escape your doom
Witches zoomin by on their brooms makin sonic booms
Quick call scooby doo, but I killed him too
You heard a loud pound cause I cut the fuse so you
Run away to a motel room, assuming your safe
And As you look the other way,
I got my fangs in your veins and stranglin your neck
Too bad you didn't text your friends to tell them who is next
Hmm let me think for a sec. As Hex your boy rex
with an incessant twitch, till he is dead in a ditch
Hang him from bunny man bridge
Yo dude turn the lights on
But there's no flip to switch , I have flipped the script
Its bewitched with no miss to kiss
Exorcist with no priest to dismiss the spirit
So the town clock strikes half past 3
There's one last gas before i must sleep
Or i will crash fast if the light touches me
Put on the mask jack, just like the sixth scream
I need to grasp havoc, till i hear shrills and shrieks
Please back rabbit, these chills aint for teens
As I stick a cherry bomb in your moms exhaust pipe
Run up on you with nine a knife, and the head of your wife
Its useless I'm the nuisance that's abusive yet conducive
To your fear that I am near So close I could whisper in your ear
Smell the shampoo in your hair Wipe the floor with your tears
And as you look up in the mirror
I'm there ready to smear your blood all over the chair
as I stab you with my spear I crush a coors beer then
Leave you re crops there dead, red spread on the floor
But I hear a knock on the door
Are you okay honey? "Yes mommy, just got a cold sore"
Copyright © Mike Conway | Year Posted 2012
Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky on November 13th nineteen thirty five
the youngest of four with only one brother
whose exit from this world from a terminal illness she did not survive!
The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief
practically vanquished as like my existence turned a new leaf!
A recurring abysmal grief stricken state
still consumes my entire being of late
these perpetual tears of sadness seem not to a-bate
since the grim reaper brandished scythe
signature sign of a deadlocked fate!
Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 that third of May
that our dearly beloved mother
fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay
(recounted by sisters who elected to remain on vigil that day)
nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand
brought a (supposed) painless and swift death
to her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray!
This only heir still misses his mom more than plaintive words can spell
with his agonizingly pained heart and soul that rents asunder this psyche pell-mell
no amount of weeping can quiet and quell!
Cathartic for me to give you a posthumous ode
conveyed in an easy to read poetic code
to accept finality & permanent loss only retrievable from nostalgic memories
identified as that childhood home and favorite abode!
Her cremated ashes still remain sealed in the same nondescript box
white, powdery and chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half century plus prior to demise
which beauty, charm and grace quickly caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed to this young flirt and tease of a gal)
inert organic matter now represents sole residual embodiment
reduced to dust and near nothingness
former corporeal being of blood, bone and flesh
weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks on the scale
absence still bears down heavy like some millstone round the neck
per the black hole void created by defeat with Grim Reaper
toward this woman who helped birth and nurse me into manhood
momma’s only grown son still feels ripples of grievous sadness
no matter the years of suppressed anger and rage
in addition to emotional conflicts between us
which invariably wrought unpleasant relationship
and a legacy of discord writ large across the tapestry of my life!
Copyright © MATTHEW harris | Year Posted 2012
Mom was a person of indisputable integrity...
teaching siblings the strict rules of equality.
A voice of tender words to remember her by...
a dazzling light invading my tenebrous sky.
Mother was more glittering and worthier than any gold...
with the purest faith and the wisdom of growing old.
I was very blessed to have had such a loving, nurturing mother...
her purity vanquished my vicissitude, and kept me from error.
She adored jewels, but she loved me more than them...
and she wore a long necklace of opulent elegance.
I am very proud and glad to have inherited that spirit from the South...
and reflecting on her virtuous life, it has given me strength and worth.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2010
Two thousand seven
Hundred and fifty victims
Murdered, Rest in Peace
My entry into Nathan's 9-11 contest
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
How often I’ve thought , I’ll just stay in bed...
But that’s for sick folks my mother said
So I’ll just linger a little while...
And let my memories make me smile..
My mother was strong and rather petite.....
And my father so strict...and yet so sweet..
They knew how difficult life could be...
And passed that on to my siblings and me....
As they had experience throughout their life..
With all the usual stress and strife..
And the pair of them taught us all so well....
Though the way we act sometimes you couldn’t tell..
The lessons we learn from our parents you see...
Are what makes us special like you and me..
And as we grow and make our own way...
Leaving our homeland so far away....
Years later returning to the place where we were born...
To scatter their ashes amongst the Rose garden thorn...
Was across the sea we had to go..
The memories were already starting to flow...
As we stood outside of the garden gate....
We heard Mother’s voice, so articulate...
“ tea’s ready “....and Dad said I hope it’s Earl Grey...
It was then we realized this was the day..
As they were gone and you can never go back..
So we must face the fact....
Our mind plays the movies in our head...
So with that in mind .. guess I’d better get out of bed.....
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014
My sister is one of a kind and I know shes always by my side I know we fight.
and sometime dont get along my sister and I are like a song.
The bond between us will never break she's my best friend
and it will never change I love my sister
Copyright © Kellie Gately | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
Thank you mother,
you birthed me,
you nursed me,
you fed and clothed me.
You loved me,
when seems, the word had loathed me.
I'd not want that love in vain.
However this is not your day.
Thank you mother,
for your support,
and your optimistic sheen,
and always has shaped the person whom I am.
But this is not your day.
It belongs to the greeting card companies.
Who've robbed another holiday.
Robbed it of all meaning,
all substance and heart.
Robbed it of it's very soul.
chewed it up and spat it,
till it's obscure meanings long forgot;
faded into history, a mother's not.
Dedicated to my mother, whom I love.
Also dedicated to Julia Ward Howe who invented a holiday meant to end war and poverty. And to
celebrate all families. Who died before her dream could ever be realized.
And...to Anne Jarvis who forced through the holiday, hoping to continue Howe's work and end war
and poverty and create a better world for all, only to see that dream shattered as Greeting Card
companies and greedy conglomerates perverted it's ideals to nothing more then lip service
dedicated to selling cards and candy.
To celebrate some mother's publicly, while other's have their health care raised and their social
security stolen. While single mothers have to risk their health and their lives to barely feed their
This holiday is an abomination. It doesn't celebrate motherhood, it degrades it. Women don't need
to be celebrated nearly as much as they need a good world in which they can better raise their
children. A world in which they can feed their children. This holiday is a Mother's Not and so is this
Copyright © Michael Benkhen | Year Posted 2011