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even the rogue child is loved

I was the child

that made you old,

I was also the girl

that couldn't be told

 

I was a rogue wave

and couldnt see 'now,'

that was I cherished

I'll never know how

 

when you went away

without word or a sigh,

I was forever bereft

we didn't get a goodbye

 

over time I've painted

my pictures in words,

I cried out my heart

in the differing verbs

 

I wish I could harness

and saddle a star

and fly to your side

but your so very far

 

I dream conversations

in the depths of the night,

some seem so real

that we start to fight

 

but as in the wonder

that walked this earth,

forgiveness was quick

from the time of my birth

 

on a stone tablet

that I've hung on my heart

I etch in your name

each time it crumbles apart

 

of the,

 

four thousand eight hundred

and fifty three days,

I cannot count every tear

I've shed as I swayed

 

now I celebrate the life

you lived without fear,

as I smooth out this page

I feel a presense is near

 

I am writing a canto

that goes on for miles

I wish you could read it

its for you with a smile

 

I write in your name

life wasnt for naught,

in mantles of flames

your spirit is caught

 

burning through history

your memory shall shine,

I am the poetess

writing a shrine

 

for a mother who never

ever, gave up on me

I will bleed every word

till my veins have run free 

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

A beautiful poetry it sang of times so precious
and people larger than life
That you are sad at them not being here still
then you feel them close at your side
Know young one that when you talk to them
they hear you, and when you call them they are there.
I have always told you that they are but a thought away.
Roly poly tears have crept out making things unclear maybe it is one of your tears, but they are fine as I know where they are from.
I have had some wonderful teachers in the children, they help and send and are just there when needed.
Take care and keep writing as you do, there are more than us that read the words even as you think them lol,
Yours as always Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

This is one of the many poems I wrote for my Mum I will forever miss her I look around at the kids and think of all the milestones she's missed and it breaks my heart she didn't get to see weddings the grand kids and her great grand babies

Shes forever with me I carry her in my heart ... sigh no time to cry

thanks for the read its time for bed midnight has come and gone

love always JC xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

Pain and suffering
may I interject

Lord Buddha had said
pain and suffering are inevitable
seek pain
suffering prolongs

to reduce suffering
one must reduce pain
and suffering would also be gone
so don't hang on

pay heed to the philosophy
of the learned one
he left home all of a sudden
in order to live
in the hearts of mankind
for all times to come
for ever

so move along
forget the inevitable it’s gone
and move along
suffering too will be gone
wow twill vanish
it applies today even as much
when the Lord did experience

loved

I think there are some sorrows that never go away, I find a kind of peace when I can write it out, I am still grieving and in a few cases I will bear the sadness and carry it with me till its my turn to go, Life is what it is we all see it with different eyes, suffering doesn't magically lift its born by those who choose to carry it

thanks for your thoughts

love JC

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

I am sure your mother hears your words and is equally as touched. I am fortunate to have both of my parents and they are very active in my life and in the lives of my children, however, I lost all of my grandparents, whom I held very dear. Especially my mother's mom. I look at her pictures, she was able to see my son and interact with him (she passed when he was 2), but I think of how long it has been since I heard her voice, seen her face...she never gave up on me when things got rough and in the end was proud of me. Once again, a beautiful tribute...

Keep Writing,
Carrie

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

My mother was a special woman she cared for people all her life she was a nurse and she loved her job, we missed her sometimes her shifts were night shifts and she would sleep in the daytime but whenever I got sick or I needed someone she was always there right to the very end ... she passed suddenly so we never got a goodbye when my mother died I was living on the north coast of NSW took hours to drive home when she passed and every minute of the days that followed are branded into my mind, I am lucky to still have my Dad he's 84 this year and he is starting to slow down and feeling his age, my parents had me later in their lives dads 84 and I am 44

ok I have rambled on lol thanks for the read and your comment

love JC xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

were in their mid-thirties when I was born. I was adopted, as they could not have any children of their own. I am very fortunate that both are in good health but we know how life is, you just never know. I shudder to think of the day when I don't have them anymore. Glad to hear your father is still active, even though he may be slowing down. You are only as young as you feel...Jo is an older dad, his second time around. He was 40 when our oldest daughter was born and 42 with our youngest. They keep him young...as I am sure you did with your parents.... :)

Keep Writing,
Carrie

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

My Dad was in his forties mum was a couple of years off 40 I lost my mother in 97 the pain has eased but the sorrow is ever present I don't know when its supposed to get easy I will probably carry my sorrow till its my turn to shuffle off this mortal plain I had a brother and sister who were 10 and 12 when I was born they left home and got married had kids I was the youngest in class and I was an aunt at 10 LOL

love Jayne-Chloe xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

Jo's oldest two are 21 and 18, they have very little to do with their sisters due to various circumstances. My son is almost 10, there is 7 years between him and Kylee and 9 between him and Kote. He and Kylee have a pretty good relationship, he and Kote, not so much yet but she is still under a year old and doesn't interact the way he would like her to. Kote is the baby and gets picked on quite a bit. I am sure you know how that goes. Her personality is completely different from the other four. She is learning to stick up for herself though, yells at them in her own language...LOL. It is so much fun to watch them grow and change...

Keep Writing,
Carrie

"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"

I lack the history and sentiment to feel for my mother the way that you do - you know that of me, I think, from what I have written - but after reading this...
you make me wish that I did not.

Most painfully and beautifully excellent.

Respectfully, Race

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

I do know what you mean and understand, we all come from different walks of life ,,, the one constant in that is our mothers we all have mums and dads but nobody loves you more than your mother, I loved my Mum more than any poem I could write, sometimes I simply just sit and think of her and wonder what she would think of where we have found ourselves,

I read you much too well to say anymore but there is a richness in your poetry that never fails to enchant me I hope one day you can find a gentle peace in the way you think about your Mother

thanks for your thoughts they are always welcome

love JC xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment
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