Ladies, We Are Poets!

A poet cries — and his teardrops are a poem.

Your children have written you poems.

You have written poems about your mother.

Your mother has written poems.

Your grandmother has written poems.

Send them to me at katharine dot trauger at gee mail dot com.

• Notice: Sending them imparts permission to publish, on this page, only, but you may request removal at any time and I will honor that. All poems remain YOUR property at all times. Thanks!

I will publish them on this page to honor motherhood, in all its glory.

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Number 1 -

I Remember

I remember Granny George who lived with us when I was young,
And how she wished Mama had more time to spend with her,
but instead, she took me on her knee,
and read Bible stories about Jesus to me.
Then, when I was fifteen, she died;
I felt at peace, but Mama cried.

I remember Mama, and how alone she felt with her mama gone.
She wanted me to take her to town, or grocery shopping,
“or just to get an ice cream cone”.
Once I was old enough to drive,
and do things I thought more fun,
Mama was left alone to wait for me
until “whatever” I wanted to do . . . was done.

When I was forty-one my Mama died.
And she was, at last, in peace;
And that’s when her daughter cried.
With three daughters of my own,
I still had lots to do . . .
until all of them left home . . .
And my nurturing days were through.

So, I’m the grandmother now . . .
And wonder where they are,
and what they might be doing . . .
they don’t live very far.
A really great day for me
is when I hear from all
. . . if they come to visit, or even make a call.

Oh, I know they’re busy
with families of their own,
and they cannot understand
what it’s like to feel alone.
One day, I don’t know when,
they’ll walk the path where I have been.
I want to tell them, to spare them grief . . .
of know that the longest life is brief.

by Maria Honeycutt, August 1, 2000,
who left this life on May 9, 2009,
Submitted by her daugher, Karen

Used with permission.

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Number 2 -

I Felt the Air Change

The woods begin to vibrate with gathering and preparation.

The sounds so crisp, electric.

Her words were “I felt the air change today.”

Red, orange, yellow, green, brown.

They dance while falling.

A choreographed waltz.

Every year she said “I felt the air change today.”

Beautiful, breathtaking, loyal.

The Canvas.

I think I felt the air change today.

By Rachel Leigh Dickus, for her mother, Anna

Use with permission.

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Numbers 3 -

Family Picnic

Mother on a summer day
Put on her apron of gingham gay
Cooked a dish of home-dried fruit
And pressed her husband’s Sunday suit.

Washed the dishes, made the bed
Boxed up fried chicken, loaves of bread
A cake or pie, the butter and jam
Deviled eggs and a bit of ham.

She tied up the dog and fed the cat
Gathered the kids, their ball and bat
Grabbed lawn chairs, a quilt to sit on
Directed daddy to load the wagon.

 Putt, putt to the picnic at the park
To see grandma and grandpa, cousin Fred, until dark.
To have a bit of frolic and bunches of fun
To splash in the pool and roast in the sun.

Mother brought her latest project, a recipe or two
To share with her sisters and cousins too
A snippet of fabric; a start of a houseplant,
School photos to dole out to all the great-aunts.

Mother had a delightful time; a visit with the folks
Her family’s day ended on a gentle note.
Full of happy memories, good food, tired bodies too,
They couldn’t wait till next year to begin anew.

By Dolores J. Rush
Found at http://thefrugalcraftyrushdlady.blogspot.com

Used with permission.

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Number 4 -

A Mother’s Prayer

Yea, I am the Mother of an ADD child;
Daily, I practice tough love.

I shall not want to
Strangle that stubborn little neck
But guide him towards paths of
Righteousness, for you, Lord.

Even though I walk through
The shadow of the valley of
Weary resignation
(Am I getting through to him??)
I will fear no hopeless situations
For you are with us;
Your presence and your arms comfort me.

And even though I walk through
The valley of the shadow of
Government “social reformers” I will fear no
Evil,
For you are with us.

You prepare a table of joy
In the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with wisdom;
My cup overflows.

Surely your goodness and love follow me
As I try to follow you all the days of my life
(Oh, for your stamina to live through today!),
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever!

Thank you Lord for your provision of grace!

Amen!

By Dolores J. Rush
Found at http://thefrugalcraftyrushlady.blogspot.com

Used with permission.

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Number 5 -

Bless My Little Baby Son

Dear Lord, I love my baby son

And thank you for his life,

I ask thee to bless my little one,

Bless his little life.

Bless his wee little head

And his curly locks

As you shine upon his bed

Over his room, toys and blocks.

Remind him as he grows

Of your great and loving care,

Precious is he to you, I know,

From his sweet baby toes to his fuzzy hair.

This baby dear, so sweet and fine

I pray will grow strong and true

Into a gentleman, like Christ divine

Honorable through and through.

By Dolores J. Rush.
Found at http://thefrugalcraftyrushlady.blogspot.com

Used with permission.

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Number 6 -

Son: JDR

I’m thinking of when you arrived,
A special day, August 27,
Twenty-four years ago.

You arrived
A month earlier than expected.

Your dad saw you first,
Then your Grandma Norma,
And even though I carried you
For eight months under my heart,
When I first laid eyes on you,
I was filled with wonder and love.

 Happy Birthday!

Love, Mom.

By Dolores J. Rush

Used with permission.

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Number 7 -

Lunchtime

Here in these four walls,
connected by two halls,
no matter nature calls,
or if the toddler falls,
or if the baby bawls,
or flushing toilet stalls,
or dog the mathbook mauls:
Mom to the table crawls
And has her lunchtime!

– The Author