~ My Mother's Face ~
By Mercedes (email@example.com)
I know your face
Better than any other
As soon as I could focus
I memorized the shape of your nose
The color of your eyes
Your knitted brow
And how your expression betrayed you
When as a sweet child I would ask
"What is wrong?"
You would clear the worry from your face
Like erasing a blackboard
"Nothing dear, I'm fine."
I loved your face
I still do - I see you gazing
Off into the distance
A dreamer you
Sometimes your mind so far away
What were you looking for?
What did you see on the horizon
You could not find right here?
Quiet and shy
Did you let your chances slip by
Sacrifice what could have been
For love of the children
You carried within?
I thank you as do my brother and my sister.
~ The Music Note and the Rose ~
When I was eight, I saved my money By susi Taylor (Texaswishr@aol.com)
To buy my mom a gift that wasn't funny
I wanted something with music and flowers
That would last more'n just a few hours
I went to Kresge's, looked and looked
Didn't want clothing or a book
I wanted something she would keep forever
Then I thought of something clever
I'd buy a picture for her wall
That she could hang among them all
I found the perfect one, a music note and a rose
With a poem, so that was the one I chose
It said, "For My Mother" in fancy printing
A sparkle from the rose was glinting
A gold frame surrounded this Mother's Day gift
And I knew it would bring a tear and a sniff
She must have hugged me for a full minute
When she opened the package and saw what was in it
It sat on the table to show everyone
And she thanked me again when the day was done
Mom hung that picture on her bedroom wall
Where it still hangs amidst them all
Sometimes I stand there, look and touch
My mom loved that picture so much
I know that my daughter will keep this treasure
She knows her grandmother took so much pleasure
Seeing this picture of the rose and the music note
And my name and the date on the back that mom wrote.
~ Mom ~
The hairs no longer dark and long By Sandy Lee (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Her lips now seldom sing a song
The lines around her eyes are deep
From endless vigil they woud keep
Her hands, that worked, so long and hard
Though wrinkled, still remain unmarred
Still strong enough to gently hold
A childs hand that’s grown cold
And through her eyes still shines the light
Of love, that glowed, in youth , so bright
Still mirrors a inner radiance
That stills the worlds great turbulance.
Those eyes they saw some worth in me
Those hands they formed my destiny
No words that may give praise in psalm…
Can say how much I love you, mom!!!
It is easy to lament
That what God’s taken is our own
When in truth we know that He
Has but called His own lamb home.
And He’ll welcome her to His kingdom
Thus, rejoice! His will be done.
She now walks in paradise garden,
Hand in hand, with God the Son.
And the ones that passed before her,
Yes, the ones for whom she grieved’
Will be on hand to greet her
As to His kingdom, she’s received.
And so we each must question…
Why is it that we grieve?
From all life’s toil and hardships,
She has, but taken leave.
And gone to claim a corner
Of the mansion, up above
That she will fill with beauty,
With goodness and with love.
In loving memory of my Mom.
~ To My Mother ~
I see you in the twilight, By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
Listening to Jack Benny,
Daddy with the paper,
You with your sewing.
I smell your coffee in the morning,
In your fresh duster, face washed, hair brushed
Never a morning without breakfast,
No household skill did you lack,
Then I see you too in your gardening,
Carrying rocks for tiers of beds,
Rocks your little frame could barely lift
To make the desert bloom.
I hear the saw of you sawing pickets,
Shasta daisies held the fence down the side,
Oh, yes, for your compulsion was
To brighten the corner where you were.
I hear your quiet listening, for
Talkative you were not,
Tho neighbors sought the porch with you,
Sharing their own daily cares..
There you are at your easel,
Painting memories like a cake from scratch,
Or carving table legs with roses,
A hole for candles - I dust them nostalgically.
Forgive a selfish child’s lack of understanding,
So much I didn’t know,
Though I loved you dearly always,
I love you more now I am old.
If you were born today,
And I the mother to give your name,
“Daughter, thy name is beauty,”
Yes, that is what I would say.
~ Mother ~
to one who bears the sweetest name By Tom (TOMWYO@aol.com)
and adds a luster to the same
who shares my joys, who cheers when sad
the greatest friend I ever had
long life to her for there is no other
to take the place of
my dear mother
(memorized from a fancy pillow an uncle sent to my grandmother
during WW II)