Mom Narrative Poems

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Off to grandmother’s cottage we go,
past snow covered pines all in a row,
to a cozy home with old fashion charm,
standing beside it the red painted...

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Each year as Christmas rolls around, as I buckle under the pressure and stress of shopping for gifts for people that already  have everything,...

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Finally – it was Christmas Eve and we put the presents under the tree and hung our stockings at the foot of the bed. ...

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At first it seemed as if the night had sang
Our pine tree lit mostly with an array of decor:
Until I watched two boys roaming out...

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Specific word : Maasi, A word used to prounce to mother's sister.

My Mamma was of five.,
And her younger sister was three years old.,
When her mother...

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A sudden feeling propelled me to go down to Ellanor C. Lawrence Park
and walk on top of the old colonial Spring house  wall 
I...

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What happened to the man I loved? Why did he lose himself?
The strong hold his demons had over him was tearing us apart  ...

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          When I was just a little girl my sister died suddenly,
she was a reckless, energetic,...

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In a town in southern Ohio
Lived a man called Crazy Harry.
A weathered, old soul, all alone
To children he appeared scary.
He had had a habit every...

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When I think of my Dad, I am filled with happiness,
he had a happy-go-lucky outlook on life in general;
such a carefree soul, even to the...

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Naughty stars 

We could not see the stars 
Sun rise from east road never 
ends motif of  animals fond in a rock. 

Empty glass...

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On Memorial Day my Mom set off for the cemetery at dusk.
Paying her respect to her late husband was a must.
She and my brother David...

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If I could go back in time 
Just to say what is on my mind
I would let you see my tears fall
Not just once but...

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It is you gave me a life,
to breathe and survive.
That is you, my brilliant sunshine.

You light me that I can find the way to home.
You...

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...early Spring walk around 3.2mi. Lake Calhoun...so named after controversial industrialist sotten with checkered past...movement underway to return name to Native American Dakota "Bde Maka...

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Pea soup fog hung over the Napa Valley hills,
kissing April grape vines, row upon steep row,
with the lightest touch of dampness, soon
to dry in the...

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When I was a small child, I was plagued with bad dreams...
I said Mom, I'm afraid . She said, you can rest, 
there is nothing...

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I think of you with tenderness that 
seldom knew breath when you were alive.
Like tattered, yellowed leaves
images appear scattered across 
the vast prairie of my...

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When Mamá grabbed the broom
as my brother and I fought,
we'd head into the bedroom
and fighting came to naught.

Mom and Pop were foreigners
always looking for more...

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