Long Chauffeurs Poems
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When I was young my mom, like most women, donned a hat when she went out.
Dad said it added to her beauty…of this I had no doubt.
My mom had a collection of hats she stored in boxes under her bed.
So many different kinds of bonnets that sat atop her head.
Moms of today are different they go out with their heads bare
but one thing they share with Moms of the past are the many hats they wear.
If we tried to count the hats they don...we couldn’t...they go on indefinitely
Perhaps one way to approach it...is alphabetically.
Moms are:
Accountants
Babysitters
Chauffeurs...they do what
Doctors and
Electricians do…they are
Farmers
Governors
Housekeepers, and
Ice cream makers too…they are
Janitors
Kitchen and
Laundry workers, and
Maids who clean the floor…they are
Nurses
Optometrists,
Painters
Quality control inspectors and furthermore they are
Receptionists
Seamstresses and
Teachers…they can
Upholster that sofa or that chair…they are
Valets
Washroom Attendants and
X-Ray technicians…ready anytime and anywhere…they are
Yard managers and every Mom I know is also a keeper of the
Zoo
That’s 26 different hats they wear…
26 different jobs that all Moms do.
Moms are the original and still the best multi-taskers the world has ever met.
In fact, I didn’t run out of hats for them...I ran out of alphabet!
I guess it’s a good thing each job doesn’t have a hat that sits atop Moms head
for there wouldn’t be enough room to store the boxes under their beds.
They are visionaries, they are cheerleaders, so much of our existence they adorn
yet they had no experience as a mother until the day when we were born.
Because it was at that miraculous moment, despite their fearfulness and qualms
when they smiled as they looked at us and realized……’I’m a Mom.’
For that is the hat that encompasses the rest...the hat we call motherhood
and I must admit, from where I stand
Moms…you make that hat look good.
So Moms, here’s to a wonderful Mother’s Day as this poem bids you all adieu
For all the many hats you wear…
our hats are off to you.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY
The scent of reading,
It pervades our chambers,
The dew of knowledge,
It moisturises our being.
The scent of reading,
It diffuses into a hidden part,
Concealed in our subconscious mind,
Stealthily it comes to the fore when needed.
The scent of reading,
Like the aroma of flowers in spring,
It envelopes us,
We glide in its richness.
The scent of reading,
The luxury of its fragrance,
It chauffeurs through the door of insight,
We're haloed by its light.
The scent of reading,
It gladdens the heart,
We take flight on the wings of knowledge,
We're embellished with stars.
February 9, 2023.
In a shroud of nothingness,
Destination ahead meanders to emptiness,
Missing pieces are cocooned deep in the night,
I have withdrawn from hope’s light.
Melancholy permeates my chamber,
Nightfall chauffeurs me to gloomy slumber,
Depression stealthy makes its abode,
I'm swathed with a hurtful node.
My father stands at the door,
Mirth is lost from my core,
I welcome him with a wistful smile,
He tells me that life is an enduring mile.
My mother is absorbed with empathy,
I'm inundated with apathy,
Each day brings grim feelings,
My father says with all hope desires to make its dwellings.
Spring heralds a new beginning
She fosters a rebirth,
Gloom is replaced with mirth,
Newness is obvious as the morning.
Many await her entrance,
There’s a lavish display of colours,
Beauty pervades in its symmetry and contours,
Awakening is seen from a distance.
Withered boughs bloom,
Nature enlarges its room,
Spring chauffeurs a time of refreshing,
She aids a replenishing.
Butterflies take flight with colourful wings,
Basking in the joy that spring brings,
She sculpts new ways,
She's a harbinger of happy days.
March 1, 2023.
In Bloom Poetry Contest,
Joseph May.
Time walks with us like a shadow. Change overcast us.
-Thompson Emate
The memories walk with us
like a haunting yesterday,
All the things that served us,
All the things we have abandoned,
All our keepsakes,
All the pleasurable moments with them.
As the morning resumes duty,
As the evening relieves her,
The world turns the pages of its books,
We add our colours to enhance its looks,
Its mysteries are still hidden from us,
Our paintings don't uncover its linings.
Time makes its sketches,
Thick and thin lines,
Time paints its portrait,
Sombre and bright colours,
Each sojourn with it,
The closer we get to the final door,
It chauffeurs us to the untold,
It takes us to the vast unknown.
We search for the road to bloom,
Gloom stealthy pervades the room,
Shadow overcast the meadow,
The sages say that there's beauty in decay,
Sometimes hope frays like a fabric,
We learn to dance to every music,
Until our roots anchor us firmly to the ground,
Until the night rides us to the beyond.
September 11,. 2023.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father used to come,
Twilight brings him here,
He stands and watches,
Lost in the ambience,
Embraced by a presence,
He didn’t bother if I stared at him,
Or if I was engulfed with fear,
It was a refreshing time for him,
He beamed with an unusual light,
Endowed with a rare sight,
He always left inspired,
Armoured for the treasure he aspired.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father’s feet stood in days gone past,
Where he stood like a mast,
Twilight chauffeurs me here,
I’m eased off the day's travails,
complexities and perplexities,
Hope swallows my unanswered questions,
I’m strengthened for the miles ahead,
Even though gloom still has its bed.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my father was inspired to write,
Where he was motivated to stand and fight,
All that saddled and perplexed,
He sojourned, conquered and returned,
Until the last mile.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my inspiration raptures from the rind,
I’m invigorated to find,
All my heart desires,
All mind aspires.
I stand at the bank of the river
where my midnight brings no fever.
March 20, 2023.
“The past is an abandoned house that still bears the treasures for today.”
- Quote_ by Poet
We go through its door,
We go into its house,
A reflection of where we have been,
We view all of its portraits.
Sometimes we are held in its nights,
They come into our lights,
They come into our spaces,
They stare at our faces.
All the joys, laughter and comfort,
They have buoyed us to today,
Hope chauffeurs us to tomorrow,
We're not held by today’s gloom.
The past can be a trailing shadow,
A reminder of the shrivelled meadow,
As we look into its mirror,
Our hands should be guided to paint today’s portrait.
November 19, 2023.
I remember my mom having a collection of hats she stored under her bed.
For any occasion that could arise…she had a hat to set atop her head.
Moms of today are different…often they go out with their heads bare
because of this we don’t often realize…all the hats they wear.
If we tried to count all their hats...we can’t…for the list goes on indefinitely
perhaps one way to approach it...would be alphabetically.
Moms are Accountants, Babysitters, Chauffeurs...They do what Doctors, and Electricians do
They are Farmers, Governors, Housekeepers, and Ice cream vendors too.
They are Janitors, Kitchen and Laundry workers, and Maids who clean the floor.
They are Nurses, Optometrists, Painters, Quality control inspectors…there’s more.
They are Receptionists, Seamstresses, Teachers…Umpires…and not always soft spoken…they are Valets, Wardens, X-Ray technicians who can tell if that bone is broken.
They are Youth counselors and every Mom I know is a keeper of the Zoo
If you’re keeping track that’s 26 different hats...26 different jobs that all Moms do.
Moms are the original and still the best multitaskers the world has ever met.
In fact, I didn’t run out of hats for them...I ran out of alphabet.
I guess it’s a good thing each job doesn’t have a hat that sits atop Moms head
for there wouldn’t be enough room to store them in boxes beneath their beds.
They are visionaries, they are cheerleaders, so much of our existence they adorn
yet they had no experience being a mom until their first child was born.
For it was at that miraculous moment in a panic mixed with calm
when the doctor handed them their baby and said, “Congratulations…you’re a Mom!”
And to any Mom who might not have given birth…might not have been there from the start…here’s to all the Mom hats you’ve worn once you opened up your heart.
Do you remember that miraculous feeling…with a mixture of panic and calm…
whether you chose the moment…or the moment chose you…
when you became a Mom?
And therein lies the hat that encompasses all the rest...the hat called motherhood
and to all you Moms out there…I must admit…you make that hat look good.
So to all the Moms everywhere,
here’s wishing you a wonderful Mother’s Day…for all the things you do…
for all the many hats you wear…
our hats are off to you.
Insufficiency holds sway,
Dawn chauffeurs meagre segments,
In this ambience, the children play,
Anticipating their paltry fragments.
Homes wear a sombre look,
Nothing delightful to cook,
The furniture is worn out and spent,
Dilapidated and bent.
Vacation is too much of a luxury,
Hands are dutiful in domestic drudgery,
Children wear undersized and patched attire,
At nightfall, with these, they retire.
Opulence is seen as an illusion,
A treasure hidden in the deep,
Out of reach until they go to sleep,
Away from the world of seclusion.
March 28, 2023.
Writing Challenge - 'P' Words - Poetry Contest,
Constance La France.
Close to the track's end,
Jumping over the last hurdle,
Hope stands beside us to stitch and mend,
Thoughts of unfulfilled desires saddle.
Walking through the end's door,
A few miles to go across the border,
A tick, a tock and more,
Each dawn chauffeurs us further.
Christmas is here,
A time to give and share,
Celebrating the birth of God’s son, loving and dear,
Sombre moods are dispersed by moments of cheer.
Cities and homes wear a colourful look,
There’s a global declaration of love,
Rancour is erased from the offender’s book,
Joy lights on us live a dove.
December 3, 2022.