"Mother with Her Young Child" by Gustave Léonard de JongheThree Poems for Mother’s Day The Society May 12, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 1 Comment Bunny by Sally Cook Indebted to a simple spark of life, You missed your chance at Europe’s wondrous door. A conscientious mother and a wife, You danced your dance upon an inland shore. Your simple fabrics catch my memory. Aprons and cotton stockings made a trail To sheets that sailed before the maple tree, And yet you chose a froth of pale blue veil To haze your thoughts, and everything I knew Concerning you, your dearest wishes, lay Covered, as the nasturtium seeds you grew Beside your step. And when you could not stay The colors of your mornings stayed behind. My heart will see them when my eyes are blind. A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time Pushcart nominee, Sally Cook is a regular contributor to National Review, and has appeared in venues as varied as Chronicles, Lighten Up On Line, and TRINACRIA. Also a painter, her present works in the style known as Magic Realism are represented in national collections such as the N.S.D.A.R. Museum in Washington, D.C. and The Burchfield-Penney, Buffalo, NY. My World For love, all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. – John Donne by T. M. Moore My friends who travel love it, mostly. And they really get around: To Iceland, France, the tropics, Patagonia, Disneyland, the beach, the Outerbanks – the Holy Land’s a favorite – Germany, or Istanbul, the nation’s parks, or Sanabel. No chance I’m ever going to see those places. Dull, my life? Not for a moment. All the wide world and its glories, fascinations full and wondrous, treats and treasures bona fide and bounteous – all I ever hope to see – are in this little room, right by my side, where nightly, I am quite content to be here on this couch, you sitting next to me. T.M. Moore’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals, and he has published five volumes of verse through his ministry’s imprint, Waxed Tablet Publications. He is Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, he and his wife, Susie, reside in Essex Junction, VT. Mom after Frederick Whitfield’s “O, How I Love Jesus” by Beverly Stock There is a name I long to hear, Oh, so many sing its worth. It sounds like music to my ear, The very kindest name on earth. It tells me of unbridled love. A tribute to my ancestry. It speaks of bonds from high above, A name, part of my pedigree. I said this name in childhood, Perhaps 1,000 times per day. With my own child, I’m blessed I could Have that same name in my bouquet. It tells of one with loving heart, And gentle touch, a calming balm, With whom in my life I did start, My very own, my dearest Mom. Poet’s Note: My poem “Mom” is 28 in a series of 50 “Semo-Centos,” or collage poems, that I’ve written, combining lines from published poetry in the Public Domain, with my original verse. My collection of “Semi-Centos” will debut in the fall of 2019 on BeverlyStockPoetry.com Beverly Stock is an emerging poet and a retired communications manager. She has published feature articles in magazines and newspapers in five countries. Beverly divides her time between St. Louis, Missouri and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related One Response Mark Stone May 13, 2019 Beverly, Your poem is very sweet and well constructed. I just have two small comments. The first relates to line 15, which reads as follows: With whom in my life I did start, In this situation one would normally say “I started” rather than “I did start.” To maintain the heart/start rhyme, you could change the line to something like: With whom my journey had its start, My other comments relates to line 13, which reads as follows: It tells of one with loving heart, Normally there would be an “a” before “loving.” Here is one way to address the dropped article situation: It tells of one whose loving heart, And gentle touch and calming balm, Provided me an awesome start, My very own, my dearest Mom. Thank you for sharing this poem. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.