Mother

September 15, 2018

“Oranges and Apples”

A mother is what she needed
not a friend that played
jacks, marbles and jump rope

where she was left
to her own devices of
making mischief
with her brother

or watching a locomotive
barrel down steel tracks
to crush a penny
newly set
upon them

but her mother an only child
longed for siblings
for playmates
to fill
a yearning

so even as she needed
wanted a mother
oranges and apples
would not mix

yet her mother turned flour sacks
into underclothes and slips
for her sewn dresses
to lie upon

her mother cooked food
laden with the aromas
of love

pies trimmed in the lace
of gold brown crust
even when money
was a
luxury

she would surmise in life
that mothers do the best
with what life
gives them

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures and Created As Art

Oranges and Apples

July 1, 2018

Swift Chicks

Images taken from Public Domain and altered by myself.

Swifts

tiny swift chicks chirping
demanding chorus
mother swift hunting food

October 20, 2017October 20, 2017

Magic and a Mystery

The rusted tool chest on wheels now
a silent reminder of childhood wonder
when in mystery it did appear as

the night spread before us and sleep
a distant presence wrapped
in the excitement of holiday magic

we were sent to bed you and I
to await the morning’s sunrise
but I was vigilant and
so were you

as I listened to laughter seeping
beneath the door I smelled the
familiar scent of cigarette smoke
unfurling

from the neighbor who often was seen
visiting but it was late at night….and

I knew something or someone was about
as I saw you quietly push the door
to opening

I wanted to know if the gossip was true
that there was no Santa or St Nicholas
who would magically appear for
wishes come true

as we peeked carefully into the living room
it was mother who busied herself there
with the wonder of
holiday gifts
and fare

a shiny red tool box on wheels she moved
beside the tree as she smiled
with care

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Writing Prompt. Read more at https://jamiededes.com/2017/10/18/the-scent-of-maamoul-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitally altered by myself.

Mystery of Magic

May 3, 2017September 2, 2017

Dreaming of Children

A landscape of memory littered
with pieces of dreams
children that once lived
once laughed
oft times schemed

she sees a house abandoned now
ought times with love filled
each & every birth an
auspicious moment still
& each year

she knows she has been gifted
that any tears shed
were merely a bridge
between yesterdays
& tomorrows albeit

as other mothers cry oceans
of salt filled tears
for children that lived once
without fear in loving arms
with kisses, soft still

their auspicious moment shattered
a broken memory like
shards of glass
now buried descending deep
earth’s grief surpassed

whose sorrow cannot rebuild
houses in ashes smoldering
whose dreams
hold ghostly remnants
pale & fading

where a timeless epitaph remains
of young lives interrupted
photos tinged yellow
touched by death
a noxious poison

thinking of this she turns pages
a book of photographs old
& knows dreams
will still be her comfort
will still unfold

that some mother’s dreaming will
become a vile nightmare
an interloper in sun rays
unwanted slumber
empty days

I am a little late to post this on my site. It was first posted in the Bezine last month. You can read more of some wonderfully written poems and other posts at https://thebezine.com/project-type/the-bezine-april-2017-vol-3-issue-7. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File & Digitized by myself.

Dreaming Children