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Style / Type: 
freeform

Eyes so wideand full of innocent wonder,

I see through his eyes,this fresh spell I’m under,

Everything is so surprising and new,

I can’t wait for all the things we could do,

The pain and the anguish of having a child,

Compared to this joy ,the pain of it is mild,

I’m still in pain but he eases it all,

Everytime I look at him again I just fall,

Again and again  I fall more in love,

He was  my saving grace from above,

I was falling further and further  down,

Then came this bundle that turned it all around,

A fragile little creature that depends on only me,

Now its love to show,and a milion smiles to see,

You pour on the loveand there’s no time for crying,

The selfishness ends and there’s only time for joyfull sighing.

 

 

 

5
Average: 5 (1 vote)
Submitted by Meic on 10 December 2007 - 7:21am.
Meic's picture

There’s something very

There’s something very special about a mother’s love.

After my mother died, I found a handwritten notebook with a number of poems inside. I knew she was writing something, though she kept them private, because she had asked me to draw a cover picture for her book. These are two of her pieces - the second one about me:

————————————

Counting blessings one by one
My treasure chest it overflows
I did not lose and give away
But gained and found
A love that wraps me round
Son and daughters are they all
And deep within the heart of me
I’ll keep them safe until eternity

————————————-

Dimpled hands clutching at my heart-strings
Now grown big, creeps beneath my elbow
Guiding me through life’s highways

Remember, son, I love you well
So remember me in the dead of night
As we went hand in hand through life

Now they are gone and in their place
Nothing but despair: but, at least,
There are marks to show that I passed through

Iechyd da [Good Health - Welsh]

Mike

Submitted by calliope on 17 December 2007 - 1:29pm.
calliope's picture

They are...

…beautiful poems. Your mother was obviously a wonderful woman.I can only hope I am a good mother to my 3 boys.Day by Day!
Lacy,

Where power corrupts,poetry cleanses.

Submitted by IKnowNoBox on 11 December 2007 - 5:53pm.
IKnowNoBox's picture

Time capsles

filled with memories that is the power of poetry.

Submitted by sinbadthesaliorman on 17 January 2008 - 12:17pm.
sinbadthesaliorman's picture

Very nice read

I noticed some words stucked to gether was not sure if this is intended or not
1. line wideand wide and
2 to the last loveand love and
loved it very nice job Donnie / Sinbad