Category Archives: Mother

21 October 2012

MAMMA MIA! – PROMPT #78

By Poetic Bloomings

Finally, we come to write of specific people in our lives who had more influence than most. Who else had more influence on this existence than the women who carried, nurtured and bore us. We give the first nod to our mothers in this week’s poetic prompt. (This should give a clue as to two other upcoming prompts.)

“HOW DO YOU VIEW your life? – POETIC BLOOMINGS MEMOIR PROJECT

Part 13: Mamma Mia – In verse and song, our Mothers have been extolled. Be it in the simple hug and “I Love You, Mom,” to the burly football player’s television acknowledgment (Hi Mom!), we’ve always found a way to return the love so given from birth and throughout our lives. For this prompt, write something about your mother and your relationship with her.

MARIE ELENA’S MOTHER

Marie Elena’s Mom

MOM

When I was a baby, my mother was my world.
No one else could feed me,
change me,
hold me,
rock me –
No one else would do.
As a young girl, my world expanded.
Yet, I missed her terribly if we were apart
For even short periods.
As a high school girl, I appreciated
And respected
My stay-at-home mother.
Her grandchildren love her above all.
Her nieces and nephews value her presence.
My father tells me that as a mother,
I remind him of Mom.
I’ve tucked that notion deep in my heart
For safekeeping,
Retrieving it for reassurance
Whenever I doubt myself.
I want her to know – to tell her how much she is loved –
But my brain lacks the words
My heart possesses.

Copyright © – Marie Elena Good – 2012

WALT’S MOM:

GOODNIGHT IRENE

Irene Marion Wojtanik, 1930-1986

You never slept,
always waiting, crocheting,
swilling to excess on coffee,
and searching for a few more puffs
to satisfy your nicotine craving.
Always saving everything
for everyone else, and denying
what you needed; your love exceeded
all expectations, and these revelations
were late in coming. Summing you up
was always hard, for with every flower,
or hug, or card we made for you,
your love stayed true. You played games
with me, wee hours and round after round,
I found your acumen at Yahtzee! ® or Scrabble ®
would have me unraveled when morning came.
But all the same, I am no one without your
tender heart and re-assuring hand.
I stand here today because of all you gave me!
You had truly saved me. You were gone too soon!

For Irene Marion (Kura) Wojtanik, 1930-1986

Copyright © – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012

143 comments | posted in Memoir Project, Mother

3 July 2011

A FRIEND INDEED – Prompt # 10

By Poetic Bloomings

In the states, we will celebrate our independence day this week. Around Buffalo there is a celebration that spans from Buffalo to Fort Erie, Canada. Called the “Friendship Festival” it pays tribute to our Fourth of July celebration and Canada Day (July 1). Write about a friend and their influence on your life.

As a “wild-card” prompt, write an Independence Day poem. (For our friends outside of the Continental US, write about the big celebration from your locale)

Marie Elena’s Good work:

Changed for Good

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“We’re just friends,” you said.
“We’re just friends,” said I.
But you doubted you,
And I doubted me.

Came tickles and pokes,
And glances and notes;
Then gazes and hugs,
And lingering goodbyes.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
And I believed you,
And you believed me.

“I love you,” you said.
“I love you,” said I.
No doubt on your part,
No doubt upon mine.

“For richer, for poorer,
In sickness and health”
Eternally altered,
Our lives intertwined.

Walt’s Tale of Brotherhood:

BROTHERS BEFORE FRIENDS

Four abreast, a test
of our mother’s resolve.
That we would evolve
into the men we’ve become
is a testament to her temperament.

We came from the same womb,
shared the same room; bunk beds.
And instead of pulling together,
we fought to tear apart what
was expected of us.

Our fight was not without gain.
Dominance was the grail
in our never fail battle to rattle
our foundation. We were brothers
but our mother’s worst nightmare.

Grown to adulthood, it would stand
to reason that our seasoning would bring
a camaraderie that would meld us
into a band of unlikely souls
filling the holes that gaped our bond.

Now the friends that once tattered the fabric
have become strong and impenetrable,
iron-clad lads with a lot of bad blood
to transfuse. We can all use its soothing balm,
to calm and bring us healing.

Healing from the inside out,
there leaves little doubt that
being brothers brought us to be
the friends we always needed.
Brothers are friends indeed.

29 comments | posted in Features, Full Grown, Good from bad, healing, Mother, prompt

8 May 2011

RHYTHM OF THE FALLING RAIN – PROMPT # 2

By Poetic Bloomings

And so our garden is started. “Seeds” of varied types and sentiments have been sown randomly from our fertile minds. A good start for our new adventure. But, now that the dirty work is done we’ll need to water our garden.

Water in its gentility possesses great power. It has healing capabilities, but can also be destructive in nature, as seen recently with the tsunamis in Japan. Write a water poem. It could be the rains of Spring, a lake or ocean, a toddler’s wading pool, even melting ice as a form of water; as long as it’s wet and you can express it, write it.

Marie Elena’s example:

CRY ME A RIVER
(Or, Graduate Student’s Lament)

Determination: diluted.
Social life: evaporated
Spirits: dampened.

Life is but a mist.
A mere drop in the bucket.

Then Graduate School
rained on his parade.

Pour soul.
I drought he knew
how swamped he would be,
nor how utterly drained
his pockets.

But,
that’s water under the bridge.

His assets, now liquid,
it’s full steam ahead.

Walt’s example:

UMBRELLA SMILES

The
sun peeks judiciously,
almost suspiciously from behind
darkened clouds. The loud crack of
thunder’s fury hurries through on winds of
change. The day is not a wash. You quash the blahs
 with          the              sing          le up               turn
of a
 st-
iff
up-
 per
lip,
Eve-
 ry
last
drip 
                                                                           is           defl-
                                                                          ect          ed.
                                                                          The        joy
                                                                           is re-    flect-
                                                                             ed in your
                                                                                 smile

***

Being Mother’s Day, we’re throwing up a wild card prompt as well. You can also post Mother’s Day poems.

52 comments | posted in destruction, healing, Mother, power, Water

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