mother

A NOTHER'S LULLABY

Our love of music begins early…as in our mother’s womb we lie

and from somewhere in the distance we hear a muffled lullaby.

 

Soon we are soothed within her arms as she gently rocks us in the den

and we fall asleep as we hear her sing that lullaby again.

 

And we hear music all around us in our nursery where we lie…

We are like the bird who learns to sing before she spreads her wings to fly.

 

And even as we grow older we find music everywhere

In the oceans, in the trees, in the mountains, in the air.

 

Music is so vital to us that once we’ve spread our wings and flown

we sing, we write and we create instruments to make music of our own.

 

So now when nature plays her music…her symphonies…her songs

we not only have the ability to listen…we also play…and sing along.

 

Through the years our taste in music changes as we change…as we grow

but music still accompanies us…wherever we may go.

 

There is one type of music, however, as other notes rearrange

that remains with us forever…that will never alter…never change.

 

For when it’s time to leave this Earth…when it’s our turn to say goodbye…

we close our eyes one last time…listening to our mother’s lullaby.

 
 
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A Woman of Grace

Folder: 
Grief & Grieving

Jane Catherine  Cavalcante


Momma was strong, right to her last breath.


She knew her Lord, so she feared not, death.


For years she fought, keeping her faith strong,


An example to us, when things go so wrong.


 ~


Her smile lit up her face, her laugh, a delighter,


Her Irish green eyes, made everything brighter.


She held together the ends, of our family ties.


Our matriarch, she was the love of our lives.



She fought so hard, for so many years,


A woman of courage, despite all the tears.


Her body was worn, the pain was too great.


So God took her Home, to walk through that Gate.



She lived for her family, how fierce was her love.


She's still loving us now, but from Heaven above.


No one could ever compare, nor take her place.


She was a woman of God...She was a woman of Grace.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Rest in Glory Momma!!

I miss you and love you so very much! Cry

~
Jane Catherine Cavalcante

Dec. 19, 1944-July 20, 2020

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when I nose-dive into the oblivion

Folder: 
poems by rabin

When I nose-dive into the oblivion


Trembling, 

her hands were, 

when she found the suicide note on my bedside, 

grabbed my lifeless body, 

hoping that I shall breathe again, 

hoping that I shall annoy her again, 

hoping that I shall lover her again, 

She was trying to remember the time I came to this land, 

or should I say, when she brought me


Now that I am gone and rest in peace,

she cannot live, let alone rest, 

In the vast emptiness, I am happy,

leaving her sad and mourning 


But, I won't complain,

mother, my maker, 

for this silence is better than the chaos of the cruel world, 

I am sure I'll rest in utter peace, 

for I know that we will meet beyond this land of sorrows.

Mists of Time

Folder: 
Light and Dark

“I had a child just like you”

She said to me that day

Waiting in the hospital

On my knees to pray

She didn't know who I was

Her mind just couldn't see

That I knew who she talked about

The child was truly me.

 

We'd had this converse once before

And many before that

The degradation of her mind

Was obvious, as she sat

And prattled on about her son

How happy he will be

With her family when she comes home

And I had to agree

 

She never found her memories

Or recognized my face

After everything she went through

She's in a better place

Where memories last forever

And can't be lost to time

Where human bodies don't break down

Always in their prime

 

Many years have come and gone

I can't recall them all

It's not like I haven't tried

But the thoughts just have a pall

I try to stare back to the past

Peer directly through the grime

Just like a fog covered my eyes

It's hard to see through mists of time

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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....

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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 tighten the noose 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

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

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