Best Matron Poems
a messy matron
polishes the silver--
the teapot whistles
For Martha a girl of thirteen
Dreams were not umpteen
She saw a nurse walk briskly
“Wish I were her’ she thought frankly
Having set this goal in mind
To run the race, ways she did find
While other children of her age
In various forms of fun did engage
During vacation, picking cow dung
Caring cattle, with work never hung
She gathered money in a mud pot
And hid it where none could spot
She visualized her goal
Even while pushing the coal
Besides running errands for her father
She also tutored her younger brother
Undaunted she tackled every hurdle
Girdling temptations, upon it did paddle
On the day she became a nurse
Joy swelled like a bulging purse
Insignificant dream it may seem
But her service made souls gleam
Physically absent, Martha - the Matron
Spiritually, is now my heavenly patron
Her words like a lifeboat would sail
Particularly, whenever my drives fail
Believe me! It’s with a purpose
Creator keeps a human spirit in us.
It's just another day at the office for the dedicated Air Force crew.
They've had their briefing and now climb aboard the venerable B-52.
They complete their checklists as they've done so many times before.
The pilot throttles up to military power and down the runway they roar!
The tired old bird flexes her wings as she climbs into the morning sky.
This matron of the blue is more than fifty years old, yet she is still quite spry!
She resembles America's noble symbol, the majestic eagle, as on high she soars!
Maintaining peace is her profession, though she's suffered the scar of wars!
Today's mission will take the crew to places they only dreamed of in school.
Their arduous flight will last around twelve hours as a general rule.
'Tis ironic, they muse, that on this very plane that if the facts were known,
Could be one that some of their grandfathers and fathers may have flown!
Young men who when boys built model airplanes and dreamed of flight,
Are now masters of machines never dreamed of by the Brothers Wright!
"Service Above Self" is their battle cry - guardians of the freedoms we cherish,
So much to each we owe for ensuring that from our land they will never perish!
KC-135 Tankers met them along the route to sate the old raptor's thirst.
Now, they lower the flaps as the setting sun greets them with a glorious burst!
The smoking tires kiss the welcoming earth - the old warrior has done her duty.
Home to roost - drooping wings will flex again at dawn, to reveal a thing of beauty!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
My mother is a beacon of strength, she taught me how to relinquish and re ascend
She showed me that forgiveness brings freedom, and only love and time a broken heart can mend
She has beard burdens of hardship only a mother can endure
Fragmented and defeated her heart a tad bruised my mother would endeavor still her child to reassure
From a babe in arms to an adolescent with struggles of my own my mother was my constant, her alone!
Her back she could have turned yet she picked me up enduringly when I was cut to the bone
The pubescent years were the most trying of all. For her child faced illness and hurt which she could not deflect
Her eyes must have shed uncountable tears as time and again she stood by my bed wanting only my future perfect
Now a woman in my own right, I am able to reflect and acknowledge my mother’s strife
As a woman I am able to comprehend what it means to be a mother and a wife
The bond between a mother and a child begins prenatal through the years the bond is verified and subdued
Our bond has been conserved through forgiveness and love, the sentiments we bestow on our hearts it is tattooed.
My Matron! My mother these words were intricately chosen only for you
Have faith when I articulate my gratitude for everything you do.
You are my mother and I am your child forever we shall share an un-moving bond from your heart to mine.
This I shall cherish with great respect and appreciation for my mother, I shall love you through all of time!!!
Her, an abstract art
Whom he finds difficult to understand
Truly inaugurated by Almighty's heart
Her, an expensive brand
Her aura enlightens
The dim & dead
Morning brightens
As she communicates eye to eye & head to head
He gets jitter while confronting her slaughtering smile
Barely manages to talk
Since her only job is to send him exile
Yet above all is her seductive cat walk
His highness
Take heed of his shyness
She is a matron who possesses strong beliefs
She remained substantial despite the vastness of her griefs
She was so young yet a mother she was to become
Her path filled with obstacles, trying never to forget from where she had come.
As a child all I could see was my Mother, my hero only there for me!
Unknowing of the battles and her story so incomplete.
She held my hand through every storm
She is my refuge on her shoulder is where I mourn
She has been frail from life’s course
She would stroke my hair as her cancer spread, whispering my angel it’s not sore
I would shed my tears for my Hero was wounded so by the human race
Yet she would perpetually cup my face teaching me that we are saved only by grace
Through the years she had taken lashes with fragnet repercussions
She is always open for my questions with patience shell engage in my absurd discussions
My Hero may have been un-movingly strong
But she too has fallen and felt the thrashes of feeling her doings are all wrong
Being a mother is one of the gravest callings of them all
Incessantly our mothers try to make every decree in hopes to always prevent her child’s fall
Children often forget the sacrifices made by a mother, forgotten are their hearts when all we covet are our intrinsic will
Bending over backwards and some, just to see our faces gleam from a windowsill
continued....
I can still see her
dancing in shadows
but her light
beautifully lingers
as she wanes
and becomes dark
for a brief time
before growing
and being
whole again.