2014 Poetry Theme Challenge

#22 Mama I love You

Thank you all who took up the last challenge. I hope this next one provides you some food for the muse. The new theme is about love, specifically the love a child has for their parent; however it may not necessarily be the human relationship. It is an unconditional love and in my mind the purest love.

Quote - Piglet: How do you spell love? Pooh: You don't spell it, you feel it. - AA Milne


O'er field and plain, in childhood's artless days,

Thou sprang'st with me, on many a spring-morn fair.

"For such a daughter, with what pleasing care,
Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise!"

And when thou on the world didst cast thy gaze,

Thy joy was then in household toils to share.

"Why did I trust her, why she trust me e'er?
For such a sister, how I Heaven should praise!"

Nothing can now the beauteous growth retard;

Love's glowing flame within my breast is fann'd.

Shall I embrace her form, my grief to end?
Thee as a queen must I, alas, regard:

So high above me placed thou seem'st to stand;

Before a passing look I meekly bend.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Mana I love you

Terry Clitheroe

Fantasy, but was it
Jenny I
Jenny II
Memories of Mum
Questioned Images

Divena Collins

Dearest Mother
Mother of Mine

Terry Clitheroe

Fantasy But Was It

What is today but just another one
I finished work and drove home
And that reminded me of past times
Margret and Maureen were there
Waiting for their older brother
I'd left instructions of what I wanted
But the lazy buggers had ignored me
After all I was their older brother, their slave.
Maureen died at 20 of appendicitis
Margret married and became my friend
And became my enemy when Mum went in a home
Till the day she died she wanted mum
Mum died here in Australia
Margaret died hating me or so she said.

If she was alive, I Wonder what she'd say now.


Jenny 1

There is a woman I loved above all
Although she does not know me now
I wish she could hear me, then judge
Instead of casting me off like a leper.
Yet each Sunday I forced myself to see her
And take her for a walk and revisit her
In her demented state, ignorant of me
And who I was, deaf to any of my words.
There is no pleasure in seeing this facade
She is not my mother, she is just a shell
A shell that was mum and claims mum.
Yet duty claims me and I am sworn to that.
Then some Sundays; after; I sit in my car
And remember who she was, and weep.


Jenny 11

She's woven my very cloth, welded every joint
No hands have worked like my mother's did
Even when I had taken her to her boiling point
Making a man out of a noisy smart arsed kid.
A rose named Jenny, superwoman in all she did
Even superwomen, must slow down with time
Slow down she did and then went deaf and hid
Because of that Fate created its dastardly crime.
It caused her to leave the gas on at dinnertime
Unlit, ready for a spark that would blow us up.
Believe me Alzheimer's is never a pantomime
I never knew the pain, till I knew it close up.
All those wonderful memories stolen from her
Now returned thinking of them being together.


Memories of Mum

I was thinking today of so many years ago
we lived in the first house of the street
over the road was the mill lodge.
About that time I had lost a cousin
in a lodge of another factory not far away.
Opposite the lodge was the corner shop.
and my pals lived in the two houses
next to the shop and opposite the mill
and round the corner in the house next to the shop.
My mother was busy in the kitchen
so I wandered out and saw my pals
waved and ran over to them.
All my mum saw was me missing the car
And she screamed "Terry".
I ran back to her only to be grabbed
and smacked and screamed at,
never realising this was abject fear
of the almost loss of a dearly loved child.
The wagging of my fathers finger later
and conversations with pals and their mums
made me realise I was at fault.
Later I realised it was Mums love for me and
the thought that she could have lost me.



She sits all alone now her husband has gone
Slowly drinking her glass of white wine.
Her memories flow back to happier days
When her life and her love was just fine.

She opens her book full of brown photographs
At her whole life and her love she is looking.
It tells many tales of her life and her loves
Times when she spent her whole life laughing.

And it tells of the times when life was fun
With her husband and children around her.
Beginning each day, her work was her play
Filling each one with her laughter.

It shows of the time when she was a lass
Never frail she always was buxom.
Her friends were the same all big framed
When together they'd light up a room.

She says time have changed, people have to
We're too busy fighting and grabbing.
When she were a lass they hadn't much cash
But they were never frightened of giving.

She's all alone now her husband has died
She hasn't the same spark inside her.
She doesn't complain, she just carries on
Old fashioned advice she will offer.

Her husband's suit is still hanging there
As if waiting for him for next Sunday.
She looks at it there and raises her glass
Knowing she'll see him again one day.



At first I had plans
then my plans changed.
Early on I was going to drive down
to Williamstown beaches
there I would empty the cask
and her ashes would be with Dad.
I thought it was a nice gesture,
but still her ashes are here in my office.
The cask is still in the bag that was given to me
Last year.
I touched it yesterday and today, and the day before
and still won't take her to dad.
I promised Dad just before he died
that I’d look after her.
I am still doing that.
Should I give her back to him?
Really I think I should
I promised Dad I'd look after her
She is my Mum.


Questioned Images

He would never be a hero,
He certainly wasn't a coward,
Until one day a religious fanatic
With evil beliefs bent on destruction
Who would not worry about the difference
Murdered him and others,
Because of his stupid beliefs.

She would never be beautiful,
In the commercial sense of the word.
Yet inside her was compassion and love,
Someone who could be adored and loved.
But she read women's magazines
And believed what she saw in them
She starved herself to death because of fashion.

He does not know the truth,
Nor is he concerned with facts
Never letting truth get in the way of his story
Yet he speaks with authority and credibility.
Because he is the media he is believed.
His opinions are based on bigotry and ratings
And his life is based on bullshit.

Her life is based on devotion
To her family and those who know her
She does not go to worship or speak of Gods
Instead her simple deeds make her loved.
Her smile lights up other peoples life.
Sometimes she is rich, but mostly poor,
But always important, because she is a mother.

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Divena Collins

Dearest Mother

A beautiful lady with grace and charms
so kind and special,with a heart of gold
there to comfort with her loving arms
safe and warm from winters cold
her beauty remained, when she grew old
inside and out she still seemed the same
she never changed with affection untold
always there for us yet again and again
it was never in her heart to complain
when she was in sorrow, or feeing low
she still had the homestead to maintain
but now she has gone and now we know
she made us then what we are today
blessed, by her own very special way.


Mother of Mine

O' mother of mine how I miss you so
how could I forget the love you gave
that gentle touch that shall never go
within my memory of you I shall save.

You stood by me when I needed you
O' mother of mine how I miss you so
you taught me love and life as I knew
admiration you gave could only grow.

Tenderness you gave shall ever flow
when I wept tears you comforted me
O, mother of mine how I miss you so
the day shall come I must set you free.

Still I remember and shall not forget
you taught me all I should ever know
within your image I shall see you yet
O' mother of mine how I miss you so.



Within the past before I ever knew you
never a thought was I within your mind
until you fell so in love that feelings grew
With maternal instincts of a mothers kind.

How I wish I had known you back then
within the past before I ever knew you
no maternal instincts of a mothers pen
until you fell in love and feelings grew.

An old photograph left just one of a few
I knew when I saw it, how I was blessed
within the past before I ever knew you
I felt the warmth your words caressed.

Now you have gone to the angels above
in a beautiful garden within heavens view
I know in my heart I shall share your love
within the future ahead when I see you.

Noreen - God Bless XXXX
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