With Paintbrush In Hand
My mom use to say,
'Boy, bite your lip! '
I didn't know then what that meant...
So I did it.
To keep my tongue from moving!
And I believe this is when I began to write on walls.
My mother had to paint over them.
Since what I had to say...
Offended anyone who came to visit.
I was six or seven years old then.
A man in a little boy's body.
And my mom took pride,
In how well my sister and I...
Were well disciplined.
But I discovered my mother in tears often.
With paintbrush in hand.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sonnet: My Mother in Old-age
Octogenarian now, how well she writes,
My mother to me still, in her own hand!
The Scriptures, good advice, how well she cites!
Her old-aged pen serves like a fairy’s wand!
She has been doing thus for years and years;
Though old-aged, by sheer will-power she lives;
Tho’ slightly deaf and blocked by wax, her ears;
Her eyes see well! What advice she just gives!
Her only plea to me was to write back;
I used to visit her often, not now;
Of keeping children good, she had the knack;
She is my mother great who has such love.
God give her health of body, mind, I pray;
Indeed, she is my mother sweet, I say.
poem by John Celes
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THAT, I Do Know
You see this?
I've been doing it,
Most of my life.
Writing.
I began in the '50's
The nineteen fifties.
With little or no encouragement,
At all that I could see.
OH...
My mom use to buy my sister
And I writing pads and finger painting sets
to keep me from writing on the walls.
And...
I guess a few spankings supplied an incentive!
Now that I remember certain events.
It was my sister Mimmie,
Who discovered I could write poetry.
And she didn't believe me.
People 'assume' I was nourished,
And encouraged by my parents.
I don't think they knew what I did,
To be honest.
I was born 'this creative being'.
With demands I made.
No one 'gave' me a thing,
But a headache.
With a parade of negative comments,
About my exposed interests.
They assigned to being a little effeminate.
But I played ball and stuff like that.
I wasn't hung up on gender!
That is more expressed today,
Than in those days I grew up.
So...
I am quite amazed today,
Especially...
That someone would ask me 'how'
I do 'this' and what they need to know...
To do 'that'?
'Gee, I don't know what to say.
Or how to say anything at all about it.
Uh...you...uh...well? ...I...uh...Gee.'
Sometimes I'm left speechless.
I just know...
If it is something done that is loved,
It will discover a way to express itself.
THAT,
Is what I have discovered over many years,
Of unrelentless devotion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Always Wanted To Wear Your Shoes
o sister o sister
my beautiful and powerful big sister;
i wish i knew you like i once did
o sister o sister
my wise and worldly big sister;
i wish i knew the remedy for what has rent itself between us
a thousand hateful things i've said to you;
wish i knew how to soften those words
I don't know what you mean by formal, not sure how to be formal
I miss you
and dare I say you were right in many ways
are there amends for my intolerance of your menopause
which is when know that things began to really fall apart
and now, as i swallow black cohosh capsules
and find myself yet again in a back against the wall situation;
i'm wishing i'd ever learned to do things like you
learned to make the best of things,
find and develop my own creative spark
& now there is no you to run to
and i've yet again made choices without a backup plan.
this seems to have become the pattern of my life
never really finishing anything
testing the waters here and there
often trying to live up to you
there were times when i wished u were my mother
and even felt u were
and now as tears begin to well
i can't help wanting to reverse the clock
though I'm I'd just react the same way
so many little moments come flooding in
I sat,8ish months pregnant, at my midwife visit
staring at words on a memo she'd held in her hand
sister called, requests that we urge mother to consider adoption,
doesn't think she can handle motherhood
or is ready for mother hood
I don't remember the exact words.
I numbly said no, I didn't want adoption info
feeling very sad
feeling somehow rejected
and so it seems I couldn't handle motherhood
one of those midwives asked me, later, on my 6 week visit
'Are you starting to adjust to motherhood? '
What?
F*** no! I don't know what that means.
but i said neither, wanly exhaustedly said, yes.
no further questions.
And 12 years later, I've still not adjusted
and that doesn't mean I am not madly in love with my son.
But I know you know that
sister.
My heart feels so lost and yet there are moments
when I feel more powerful than I ever have.
I still keep feeling like I'm struggling to live up to you
still see your face when someone speaks of heroes
though I despise the word – and perhaps i've lived the reason why
I see other faces but yours the brightest
if not of late only because of my bitter anger
my self torturing sense of betrayal
just my feelings - not necessarily truth
Im sorry that I always wanted to be you
so much maybe that I even wanted to stamp you out.
©December 2008
poem by Pilar Mogollon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother In Law
(a. toussaint)
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
The worst person I know
Mother in law, mother in law
She worries me so
Mother in law, mother in law
If she leaves us alone
We could have a happy home
Sent from down below
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Satan should be her name
Mother in law, mother in law
To me theyre about the same
Mother in law, mother in law
Everytime I open my mouth
Steps in trying to put me out
How could you stood so low
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Come home with my pay
Mother in law, mother in law
She asks me what I made
Mother in law, mother in law
She thinks her advice is a contribution
If she would leave that would be the solution
Dont come back no more
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law....
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Real Goddess
Today my mother
Came to my house
With lots of blessing
And full of good wishing
To live long
Happy and healthy
Progressive and wealthy
My mother
My sweet mother
My beautiful mother
My loving mother
My real goddess
My ever goodness
My first lady I loved
My life my mother
My soul my mother
My God-gift my mother
My pride my mother
My aim my mother
My teacher my mother
My friend my mother
My preacher my mother
My daughter's face look-like my mother
My daughter my little mother
O the Absolute Almighty
Give me my mother
Again and again
And again and again
My mother
Only my mother.
poem by Dr. P. K. Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What a mother should be
A mother is the one who loves you
A mother puts no drug above you
A mother will never make you cry
A mother will never make you want to die
A mother will help you fight your fears
A mother will help you stop your tears
A mother will keep you safe and sound
A mother will never let you down
A mother will daily say I love you
A mother won’t say I hate you
A mother won’t wish you were dead
A mother won’t forget what you said
A mother won’t close the door
A mother won’t let you be poor
Now I ask you, do you have a mother?
Cause’ I don’t, so don’t bother.
poem by Carlisa Smith
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Identity ensures sacrifice.
Once I sold my gold for my sister to wed.
I had a pride on it.
Now when my mother has given her hers
I am piqued by it.
My sister and I are liberated from the identity.
At my mother’s age I may emulate her.
How will be my son for his sister?
27.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The tears that I cry are not yours
I am not your friend who tried
to kill you last night
I am not you friend who mustanize
and try to get intimacy
I am not your friend who killed you
your father, then came back home with a gun on my face
I am not your friend
who is your friend
then your friend
what is a friend
when you have a friend
then a friend who is my friend
when I have a friend
The tears that I cry are not yours
I have never had a friend
like my mother
I have never had a friend
like my father
I have never had a friend
like my brother
my sister, she hates me
as much as I hate her
The tears that I cry are not yours
who is she to take off
her clothes in the middle of
the street and say the door will
be closed in the next fifteen minutes round
The tears that I cry are not yours
‘she my mother, my mother who cries
every time she thinks of
me’
you are my sister
but you were my sister
when my sister was born
The tears that I cry are not yours
every time I see her
I am happy
for she knows what it means to…
‘she used to come home to me
and say poy I have something for you to eat
don’t tell anyone
The tears that I cry are not yours’
poem by Amos Motlanthe
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Father Spoke in Code
Father spoke in code
Mother understood.
She would cry
once he went to bed.
I never understood the code.
My sister didn't either.
As we got older, we quit
asking Mother what he said.
A feral cat claimed our yard.
It would leap the fence
when anyone appeared.
Except, of course, Father.
When he came out to walk
around the garden after supper,
the cat would sit straight up,
then rub against his leg
and look at him as if it understood
what others never could.
My sister used to say
the two of us were proof
Father and Mother
got together twice.
I told her I wasn't so certain.
I looked a lot like Mr. Brompton,
the next-door neighbor.
He used to buy us sugar cones
from the ice cream truck.
My sister, by the way, didn't look
like anyone in the family either,
but that was 40 years ago
when I last saw her.
I went away to college
and she got married.
We were never close after that.
Not even Christmas cards.
Forty years is a long time.
Now, we plan to get together
for a weekend this summer
before one of us dies.
I suggested we wait
till one of us is terminal.
What's the rush, I said.
But my wife told her
I was only kidding,
that we'll be coming
and not to make a fuss.
Burgers and hot dogs
will do just fine.
I know what Sis and I
will talk about that weekend,
the two people we'll always
have in common, no matter
how many years and miles
may lie between us.
Father and Mother have been
dead for decades now
but they're still alive in us.
I talk in code, my wife says,
and my sister cries a lot,
now that her husband's dead.
The one thing I want to know
is if my sister knows
what happened to the cat.
It knew the code,
may have had some answers.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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She Wrote About Our Mother.
She wrote about our mother and it took me far away
And many, many years in time back home to Claraghatlea
And as I read her letter I fought to choke the tears
For Millstreet, Cork and Ireland and happy childhood years.
She wrote about our mother long under Tanyard soil
And memories flooded back to me of one with ready smile
Of woman who worked hard for us for no reward or pay
The heroine of our childhood years of happy by gone day.
She wrote about our mother with sense of love and pride
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside
For one who done her best for us her very best she tried
And I still feel she is with us her spirit never died.
A letter from my sister in east Rockaway in New York
Reminding me of childhood years in Millstreet County Cork
She wrote about our mother whose passing left a void
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Mother o' Mine
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Yet I Am A Mother
18years is all I am and yet I am a mother
A mother so young
A mother so immature
A mother who can't take care of the responsibilities
But yet I am a mother
A mother who bergs from parents when she's in need
But what was I doing not thinking about the consequences of my action leaving todays and not tomorrow's satisfaction.
One visit to his house and now I am a mother
A mother so young
A mother still in school
A mother so immature.
poem by Nomusa Promise Ndimande
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You Are My Mother
You are my mother
More supportive than a brother
You are my mother
More compassionate than a sister
You are my mother
My very important other
You are my mother
My first teacher and helper
You are my mother
Because of you I am greater and stronger
You are my mother
Because of you I am richer and better
You are my mother
My love for you grows bigger and sweater
You are my mother
My love for you will last forever
poem by Howard Simon
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What is a mother? pt 2
What is a mother? A mother is a friend.
What is a mother? A mother is your hero.
What is a mother? A mother is someone who can make your wishes comes true.
What is a mother? A mother is sugar and spice.
What is a mother? A mother knows all the coolest music and style.
What is a mother? A mother is everything in between.
What is a mother? A mother is a better version of you.
What is a mother? A mother is your mommy till the day that you leave this world behind.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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What is a mother?
What is a mother? A mother is a friend.
What is a mother? A mother is your hero.
What is a mother? A mother is someone who can make your wishes comes true.
What is a mother? A mother is sugar and spice.
What is a mother? A mother knows all the coolest music and style.
What is a mother? A mother is everything in between.
What is a mother? A mother is a better version of you.
What is a mother? A mother is your mommy till the day that you leave this world behind.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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A Daughter's Wish
I wish I had a mother,
That would love me the way she should.
I wish I had a mother,
To accept me for who I am.
I wish I had a mother,
Who wouldn’t belittle me the way she does.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would trust me some of the time.
I wish I had a mother,
That would listen to me when I’m in pain.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would trust me just abit.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would help me when I asked.
I wish I had a mother,
Who didn’t criticize me the way she does.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would understand the pain she’s caused
I wish I had a mother,
Who didn’t have to be right all the time.
I wish I had a mother,
Who would see the good that I’ve done.
I wish I had a mother,
Who wouldn’t make me beg for her love.
poem by A.M. Belsey
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Getting Slowly to It
Getting slowly to it
I saw her calling loudly
Mother! mother! i can't bear it
Is it walking so closely
Your voice has gone away
Lost in the world and astray
Mother! mother! i can't bear it
Is it walking so closely
You promised to take me
Didn't that seem noisy
Mother! mother! i can't bear it
Is it walking so closely
Let me cling to my old toy
With a heart leaping with joy
Mother! mother! i can't bear it
Is it walking so closely
[I'll be glad if you visit my own wordpress and comment on it]
http: //fake11world.wordpress.com/
poem by Miss Lavender
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Mother Mother Mother
How you cared for us. Don't keep away from us.I won't surive without you/ Mother Mother Mother Your eyes show me the way. When I fall on my way. You lend me a hand to carry on. Mother Mother Mother You had a very hard life. But you gave your baby your own bread from your own mouth. When she feels hungry. Mother Mother Mother If I pass though this word. I wouldn't find you anywhere. Your sweet smile makes me happy. Mother Mother Mother My love for you will go on forever. I love you my Mother Mother Mother forever and ever. written 6/23/08 Posted 10/27/08 In the memory of my mother Esther Ferber Klayton
poem by Susie Sunshine
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I Like My Mother
There's candy
Icecream
Chocalate
Good dreams
And I like my Mother!
Mothers are sweet
Mothers are nice
They help you
Give you good advice
And they make you cookies!
I like my Mother!
I like my Mother!
I like my Mother!
I Like my Mother!
I really
Like
My Mother!
Theres Uncles
Cousins
Sisters
Brothers
Fathe rs
And I like my Mother!
And I pray God
You'll let my Mother live a thousand years
So I don't have to get a job or do anything
And I can just live with my mother!
I like my Mother!
I like my Mother!
I like my Mother!
I like my Mother!
I really
Like
My Mother!
poem by Art Paul Schlosser
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Mother may I
Mother may I
throw food around
because I am contrary as an infant?
Mother may I
play in the mud
because I like when you have to bathe me?
Mother may I
eat all the cookies
just because they taste so yummy?
Mother may I
draw on the walls
because I like your attention?
Mother may I
not do my homework
because I want to grow up faster?
Mother may I
stay out all night
because I feel like I'm suffocating at home?
Mother may I
have sex in your bed
because you arn't home to know about it?
Mother may I
borrow the car
so my friends and I can get high on the bridge?
Mother may I
take the TV
because I'll need something to do at college?
Mother may I
borrow some money
because I spent all of mine on the raised cigarette tax?
Mother may I
take you for granted
because I don't know any better?
Mother may I
have an abortion
because I am scared to become you so quickly?
Mother may I
cry in your arms
because I finally know what it feels like to be used?
Mother may I
come home to you
because I still love you more than anything?
Mother may I
have another cookie
because now I know to ask?
Mother may I
take your advice
because I want to know if he's right for me?
Mother may I
fall in love
because I want to be whole?
Mother may I
have your grandchild
because I want to be just like you?
Mother may I
give her your name
because she's just as beautiful to me as you are?
Mother may I
love you forever
because you are my loving mother and never gave up on me?
poem by Erica Francis
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