by davenmidtown

A poem about mothers and all that they do in their lives, every day, for us their children

We all have a mom, have known awesome mothers. This is a poem that describes what a mother is within the larger picture of the world. This is a representation of mother, without ethnicity, and yet from all peoples, regardless of history, or ambition. This is a poem that celebrates both happiness and sorrow.

Celebrate Motherhood

Thank you Mom!

It is an endless task being a mother, and while we grow up, and grow into our own lives, they are still our mother. We should celebrate that fact everyday and remember the sacrifices that they gave to be our mothers. This is a lesson that we may not recognize until we become parents ourselves. 

Financially, the cost of raising a child continues to grow. Emotionally, there are those late nights waiting up, hoping that we are all okay. All the worry, and disrespect that we give them as teenagers. We should recognize their efforts every time we see a mom with a baby, or listen to s smart-mouth brat talk back to their mom. 

Even as husbands we should remember that the woman we married should be adored and respected because they are not only our wives, they are the mother of our children and that is something we should all cherish, and take pride in. Celebrate all of the mothers in your life by taking the time every day to say Thank You. Take some time out of your busy day and think of all the time they gave up to help you become successful. To all the mothers... I say Thank You!


In memory of mother
Play of light
Play of light
David Stillwell

A Mother

The art of being a mother.


She gathered life and limb

grass and reed

the sound of laughter

the smell of sleep

the color of his silky voice

texture, pitch and pride.


She found the likeness of his eyes

in pansy's growing wild

she took the essence of the sky

broken promise, hidden truth

and faith that's rectified.


She caught the act of

keeping house

raising children

the sound of laughter

muffled sighs

and subtle half truths

of little white lies.


She took the storm

its anger spent

found the silence of peace

the tarnished look of forgotten hope

the mutter of a sleeping man

the vibrant hue of a song

long spent, but echoing.


All of these she gathered

tightly bound to heart and soul

and wove them day

wove them night

into the fabric of her life....

Updated: 11/03/2012, davenmidtown
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davenmidtown on 11/04/2012

thank you... I agree.

VictoriaLynn on 11/04/2012

Beautiful. What all mothers should be about.

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