mother

A Mother's Heart!

                A mother’s heart!

A mother’s loves is strong and steady a bond from a heart of gold

For nine months she’s carried her child inside a love that will never grow old

The moment the doctor puts her child in her arms she sees a work of art

And nothing in this world will ever compare to that of a mothers heart

She sees her children with eyes that shine as bright as the morning sun

There’s no one quite like her in all the world and her love cannot be undone

She’ll protect her child until her dying breath like she’s done from the very start

A true mother doesn’t have to bare a child to have a mother’s heart

All she needs is to open her heart to let her child in so that he will know

And hand in hand she will walk with her child until he’s had a chance to grow

Only when he is grown and her life on earth is done will she let go and depart

And this to me is how it was meant to be from deep inside a mother’s heart!

 

       Dedicated to mothers everywhere have a fun filled day you all deserve it 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i write this poem with my mother in mind i sure do miss her !!!!!!!

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To hear you say…

To hear you say…

By jfarrell

 

To hear you say “I love you”

I would have sprouted wings and flew

So happy, so joyous those words would have made me feel

From you, my mother

 

To hear you say “I’m proud of you”

I would have pulled the stars from the sky

And made of them a crown

For you, my mother

 

I heard you say “I should have smothered you at birth”

And I feel crushed, hated

Outcast and rejected

By you, my mother

 

I heard you say “I should have had you aborted”

And I feel aborted;

Stopped, cast aside

And incomplete

 

I still hear what you said

After all these years, over all these many miles

Has my silence, my absence, gotten through to you

After all these years, can you still hear me

 

But,

I still want to hear you say

“I love you”

To me, your son

Author's Notes/Comments: 

sadly true

My Savior

He was both not there

And my savior

All in one

Because when he WAS around

He protected me

I was his daddy's girl

I was the most abused

He did what he could to help

Usually by doing dishes

 

Mother would get pissed

How dare a parent help

Their child

Their blood

Let them flounder 

Let them fail

So I can win at one more thing

And hold it over their head

 

He helped

But only so much so

Too timid to really fight

Too quiet to speak up

She ruled over us all

She was  the queen

If she wanted something 

You fetched it

 

And I did everything

To take care of our homes

The many apartments

We called "homes"

As soon as I was old enough

To hold a sponge

I was doing dishes 

Once I was old enough to cook

I made dinner every night

 

If not 

You faced her wrath

The anger that would spew

From her nostrils

Her eyes glowing red 

And a quick flick

Of her tongue

And the beatings

She would give

 

Once he passed

It was free for all

Into early adulthood

The abuse continued

I was conditioned

When I left

It trickled to my brother

She continued to abuse her child,

But now it wasn't me

And my father wasn't there 

To save him

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written: 3/12/2018

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Last chat with mum; aged 24 (me, aged 24)

Last chat with mum; aged 24 (me, aged 24)

By jfarrell

 

“now he’s dead, I gotta ask….

“was he my dad? Truly???”

…. “yes”

 

This is my mum responding….

Her and the ‘truth’….

If she told me water’s wet and leafs are green…

I’d have to check….

….my mum truly believed her lies…

Really…

 

She didn’t get kicked out of the milkman’s house…

1 am in the morning

And walked home naked with her 7 year old daughter screaming at her

What a w……. she was…

No….

My ‘dad’ was flirting with the barmaid again…

….

I was there; I know what happened…

 

But,

She really, truly believes her lies.

 

“was he my dad?”

“yes”

….

 

Deep breath…

Disappointment, anger, relief?

Who knows?

But….

What I asked next was really, REALLY stupid!

A very bad idea…

But

How could I know?

 

“Ok… ish… he’s my dad…”

 

Long silence, couple of minutes?… less?… more?…

 

“what happened back ‘then’? when I was 5? 6?

When uncle brian raped me?

….….

….. we haven’t spoken in nearly 10 years… what you all did hurt….

What happened?”

 

“your dad told me you’d raped your cousin”

…...

“i was 5…?… 6…?….

…. I wasn’t even physically capable…. 5…6…”

 

 

“that’s what your dad told me.”

 

A couple of deep breaths, from me…

Several seconds…. a minute or two…

Felt like f…. centuries….

 

….”and I believed him.”

 

NOT an added aside, an intentional thrust with a stiletto…

Not an attempt to move in for the kill…

On an already injured, badly bleeding target…

No….

She was just being honest.

 

….OK…

 

“nan, uncle peter…. di…..”

“well of course I told them about it!”

…..

At least I had the sense to shut up then and not ask if that’s..

What she told her friends…

 

…..

 

Haven’t seen or spoken or had anything to do with my ‘mum’

Since that day…

Over 25 years ago…

I will be 50 in a couple of weeks…

My anger, bitterness, hurt….

…..that little mother to son chat….

Is killing me

Poisoning me, like a virus …..

That hate, anger….

Wanting to hurt back…

 

….

Maybe my mum had mental health problems….

I don’t know….

But..

To so totally, absolutely believe… agree…

At 5… 6… years old…

“your son raped his cousin”….

 

I don’t totally believe that’s the WHOLE truth…

I will happily call my scumbag ‘dad’ a lot of names…

But.. ‘Liar’ isn’t one that would be honest….

….

 

…”and I believed him.”….

 

I don’t know….

Have spent all my pointless life trying to imagine….

WHAT I DID….

That was so bad…

That…

At the age of 5 or 6….

… my mum hated me SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much,

“and I believed him.”

 

 

Maybe she’s right ;-)

After all,

Who knows a man better than his mother?

 

I wish I could forgive and forget…

I wish I could be a son….

I wish I had a mother….

…..

And,

I so wish I wasn’t me…

But…

These are the hands we are dealt.

 

Sadly….

 

I fear my bitterness, anger….

Absolute f…… rage…

…after I die….

My hate will continue.

….

Other than my mum, who can rot in hell…

 

 

PEACE AND LOVE TO ALL YOU LOVELY WONDERFUL READERS!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

20 years of therapy, 40+ years of pain and bitterness..

poetry is a salve, a poultice, i could never have imagined....

Into the Depths of Chaos


I slip into an onyx dream
darker than any decaying thing
From the void trying to fill the void
Like Erebus I too am born of Chaos
-unraveling in a mist of dissonance
The silken noose tightens
I am cast into my own Spellhold-
cursed and forgotten
Pain is a welcomed refuge
Lest the 'stars hide their fires'
I will burn into a blacken ember

The hour of silence beckons
Echidna coils her fiery despair
Round and round, over and over
A mother's love- her beautiful poison
And sinks her fangs while
begging for absolution

I sink below the slithering surface
where nighmares wash away the sadness
There is no peaceful passing
She carves her scars into her child's heart
And only with her blessing does she allow any healing

I slip further into the tangled madness
caught on layers of dissension
The steady beating of despair
is slowly creating a new heir
She shows you the horizon
She tells you it is near
Then she swims in self delusion
all while drowning others with her fear

I close my eyes, I open them wide
Inside a sleepless mind, the quiet
is a beautiful lie
Like it or not I have to choose-
To descend further into a watery grave
or tie the noose 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

**My relationship with my mother can be quite...tumultuous**

LOVE YOUR MAMAS

Paradise. It is found in a mother's embrace

 

happiness at the smile and shine of her face

 

Surge of power at the encouragement of her words

 

Intellect at the acceptance of her wisdom

 

Selflessness and zeal at the prospect of protecting her from harm

 

There are few feelings as euphoric as the sound of a mother laughing

 

Likewise, few things are as gut wrenching as her crying

 

To realize she suffered like most but hid it from your infantile eyes

 

The realization that as a child, your words were full on pure honesty without a modicum of restraint in your words

 

The statement of pain as a question. The inherent honesty may hurt more than lies

 

And yet her refusal to give up in the face of several storms. A great accomplishment  

 

Such determination, teeth shining, smiling, eyes twinkling in the face of every deterrent

 

From the pain of childbirth to the struggle to give you the world

 

There is no greater parent

 

Understandably, you strive to repay  this boundless debt

 

You yearn to give her a fraction of the love, gifts, and strength you have been given since birth

 

You acknowledge this herculean task

 

But as you contemplate this insurmountable feat

 

Worry not, her love was not bought, it came with no receipts

 

Remember

 

Paradise is found at your mother's feet

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Aren't Mothers great y'all??? yes, they are. no question

Go tell your mamas you love them if they are no longer with us reminisce on your times with her

Then come back and criticize my poem. You're gonna have such a fun day

If you are a mother, know that you're a BAMF

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Mother

Folder: 
Haqueian Verse

Mother,


Religious, caring, charitable,


Emotional, selfless, dedicated,


Hard-working, dynamic,

 

Ever!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A new form of poetry created by me is called ‘Haqueian Verse’, which starts with a single word; it has five lines that contain ten words in total. The poem ends with a single word that rhymes with the first word. 

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tags:

My Mother's Flowers

Flowers, lots of flowers. My childhood was filled with them. I can still smell the roses all over my house, in every single room and remember my mother waiting for them to bloom. Flowers are for every occasion, she used to say. As she put together flower arrangements for Valentine’s day. My sister and I were like her assistants. She taught us how to treat flowers, how to paint flowers and how to name flowers. She even taught us what every flower means. An iris represents inspiration and a poppy represents consolation. A Magnolia represents dignity and red and white roses together represent unity. Knowing all this, makes it impossible for my mother to see a flower as a simple flower. Sometimes she said that flowers were like a language, a way of expression. And the more time we spent around flowers I came to understand what she meant. There’s so much that can be said with a white rose, a red tulip or a black orchid. Every time you can’t find the right words to say to someone give them flowers, she always said. Every week we went to huge flower storages. There were roses, lilies, tulips and some others with such exotic names that my sister and I turned the naming of flowers into a game. I always described those storages as beautiful, fresh and colorful places, but without the flowers those storages where nothing but big, grey and very cold places. When she needed help, my mother used to take us to church to help her arrange the whole place with flowers hours before a wedding started or for a memorial for someone who recently parted. Now I understand that every flower has a meaning and that every single type of flower comes with a feeling. As flowers can make you feel happiness when you receive them from someone who you love, they can also make you feel sadness and grief as you deliver them to someone who soon leaves. Flowers made my mother very happy for a long time and always made my house look nice. Then the sad day came along, when she had to close her flower shop. Even though they are not useful anymore we still have piles of flower books laying on the floor. And when someone brings flowers to my house my mother always enjoys naming them all, especially the ones with exotic names.

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Corpse Pose

Folder: 
Hand Written

"Feel it, 

the sensation of breathing, 

with a new friend. 

Not

 

the addition, 

but the release of a union

of muscle and sinew, 

effort

 

cast to the side. 

The breath

enjoyed

with the support 

 

of the floor. 

The ground, 

the dirt below, 

thinking now

 

of feeling the green grass

in between your toes, 

the Earth, 

our Earth. 

 

Nay, she is not ours, 

we are instead Hers. 

Your breath... 

given strength by Mother Earth. 

 

Do you feel it? 

The ebb of the Earth, 

the beat, 

the ancient, encompassing embrace. 

 

Do you feel the flow

of the Ocean,

the breath of Mother Earth

made manifest?

 

Do you feel the presece

of the energy,

in this room, 

right now?

 

The energy that is still, 

the energy that links us, 

neighbor to neighbor, 

the energy of the mightiest wave

 

crashing onto the shore,

the wrath of the surf

felt as fury by the surfer

that Hell hath no. 

 

The energy of the exhausted canine

resting finally on couch

with the child who so tenderly

ran it tired. 

 

The energy when Autumn comes

when you're not quite done

kissing Summer

goodbye.

 

Do you feel the breath? 

Do you feel your mind 

spiraling all over this

whirl of whimisical words?

 

Do you feel the heart? 

Your heart? 

My heart? 

The flow of energy 

 

of the one to your left

or right? 

Us all, limited not

to labels

 

or categories, 

not by old, young, 

American, skin tone, 

the foolish boy or the sweet lady.

 

Try Human, 

Homo Sapien, 

try Earthling, 

giggling practitioner about spirit fingers. 

 

But, 

you know what? 

I do not

need to instruct, 

 

because I feel it. 

I feel you. 

I feel joy,

stress, searing pain, 

 

us joining as a whole

with our Om. 

So beautiful, 

you people. 

 

This is it. 

This is you, this is me. 

This is Mother Earth. 

I feel it.

 

And maybe you do too."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The piece I wrote for Lululemon's UNITEd State campaign, during a yoga session I sat and observed.