Venetia's posts with tag: the ties that bind
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I am not the type of mom that bakes
cookies, cakes and pies,
can't knit, crochet or make dollies,
I don't wear cute little aprons,
or sensible shoes,
I don't do coffee klatches,
sell Tupperware, Mary K or Avon.
but the days and nights,
weeks, months, and years,
you needed me,
I was there...
with a band aid and a kiss,
for every cut, scrape and bruise,
I was there while you cried,
with a Kleenex and a hug,
I was there when no one else cared,
applauded every dream,
laughed at all your silly jokes,
sighed at all your nutty antics,
held my tongue when you experimented,
saved every hand made grade school gift,
I learned to let you fly,
prayed that you'd never fall,
so, I may not be the mom, you wanted,
but I have been the mom you needed.
my babies, my babies,
listen to me,
time is short and that's a fact,
your survival skills,
are severely lacking,
there are predators preying,
monsters a lurking,
access to innocence,
theirs for the taking.
my babies, my babies,
take heed,
they will play with you,
confusing fledgling, young minds,
and enticing with their vices,
moving on when sated,
seeking new flesh,
leaving you toxified,
traumatized.
my babies, my babies,
please heed my warning,
because I will be gone,
the other side of life,
unable to shield you,
with a mother's defenses,
a mother's advise,
unable to hold you,
enfold you in my arms,
wiping your frozen tears.
my babies, my babies,
listen to me,
my time is short,
you will always have my love,
but the world is not all yellow sunlight,
and cotton candy blue skies,
smiling faces can conceal,
furtive leering that wants to deceive,
people will fail you,
then judge and condemn you,
for in the dark,
even the innocent can't be seen.
so my babies, my babies,
my time runs short,
I will not always,
be there to keep you safe and secure,
you must listen to me.
A Mothers' Lullaby
With the first glimpse of my child,
pain instantly becoming a distant memory;
I am captivated by his new born skin,
petal soft, downy, milky, scented skin.
He nuzzles close to my breast,
and our heartbeats slowly synchronize.
I don’t know where I end,
and he begins,
I am filled with a love,
infinite as an azure sky.
A Father's Lullaby
Oh my child, my son, my pride,
gazing at you in wonderment,
gently, with a trembling finger,
I caress your cheek.
Vowing to protect you from life's tragedies,
how can I contain this fierce love?
For we are all more and less,
than a mote in God's eyes.
Holding you close,
our heartbeats slowly synchronize.
A Child's Lullaby
Harsh, piercing lights, a montage of masked faces,
from warmth I emerge into this place,
what is this chaotic world?
I seek, oh I seek, for what, I do not know.
Sensing my distress,
I am embraced by warm arms,
my cheeks gently caressed.
I nuzzle into a sheltering breast,
our three heartbeats slowly synchronize,
imposing order and peace on this bewildering world.
I am loved.
For Pequeno Roberto, My Grandson
 | Creation | Sep 23, '07 2:51 PM
for everyone |
an angel lies sleeping as his parents peer in wonder
be they kings, queens, pawns and paupers
progeny of our loins reduces us all to gaping love
astonished at the glory they have created
and silenced by their awe
he moves restlessly under his parents adoring gaze
unaware that he is the culmination
the zenith of their lives
this tiny being
a random combination of genes and cells
he sleeps tiny fists clenched warm baby breath silky locks shell ears
oblivious
to the wonder in their eyes
they trace the shape of his eyes, eyebrows, nose
exclaiming
at his perfection amidts a fierce heart breaking love
we rival the gods
with this act of creation
inspired by bunie
a dandelion drifts lazily
in the wind
browned on the edges
chlorophyll lifelines fading gently
as its life cycles ends
and renews
it gently mocks me
my sense of self importance
and the urgency
I bring to every task
endeavoring to imprint something
of myself
for an unknown posterity
“where are your seeds”
the dying dandelion inquires
as its own progeny flies
on the wings of the winds
for debbie
chilled and helpless I emerge from
her
shuttering my eyes against the piercing glare
slowly I turn my head from side to side
missing that reassuring steady beating song
hands touch me carefully, impersonally
they are not her hands
it is not her love that sheltered me so securely
and yet I can sense
her
somewhere, nearby
resenting the separation
I cry
We called her Shai
my infant warrior princess
she came into the world
full of sound and fury
yes,
she herald her arrival
with lusty cries of outrage.
I fell in love with my fiery baby
straight wispy Indian black hair
alabaster smooth skin
peachy pomegranate skin
her grey slated gleaming eyes
warned me of the titanic battles
to come.
From the beginning
she was self-sufficient
knew what she wanted
when she wanted
stamping her little feet
resolved to have her way
my little pediatric pack leader.
She was daddy's girl
similar in likes and dislikes
dainty little things bored her
rough and tumble
her motif and belief.
Running as fast as she could
this child faced life head on
chest thrust out
daring the world to take its best shot.
Smirk on her beautiful countenance
defiance in those eyes
kick ass, take no prisoners
grit stiffened backbone
a glorious woman she became.
My daughter
Shai La Ghost
Warrior princess.
I am not the type of mom that bakes
cookies, cakes and pies,
can't knit, crochet or make dollies,
I don't wear cute little aprons,
or sensible shoes,
I don't do coffee klatches,
sell Tupperware, Mary K or Avon.
but the days and nights,
weeks, months, and years,
you needed me,
I was there...
with a band aid and a kiss,
for every cut, scrape and bruise,
I was there while you cried,
with a Kleenex and a hug,
I was there when no one else cared,
applauded every dream,
laughed at all your silly jokes,
sighed at all your nutty antics,
held my tongue when you experimented,
saved every hand made grade school gift,
I learned to let you fly,
prayed that you'd never fall,
so, I may not be the mom, you wanted,
but I have been the mom you needed.
My baby is having a baby
and I wonder
when did she grow up?
I recall a tiny, fragile bundle
minute delicate, caramel face
crowned with soft, ebony bronzed tipped curls
downy velvety skin
oyster like ears
heart shaped lips
faintly visible eyebrows
hands so tightly fisted
and as I wrapped my body around hers
arms sheltering this precious bundle
in that first second
she stole my heart
and never gave it back.
I recall all her firsts
the first tremulous smile,
further entrancing me
the first time she said ma ma,
oh such precocious brilliance
the first faltering steps
launching into my arms
triumphantly,
the first day of school,
holding my hand so fiercely
not wanting to let go,
the first date,
as she primped and preened
and I looked for a shotgun...
and then she were graduating
full of plans and opinions
it was her turn to change the world
discover new inventions
scale new heights
fall in love
and in turn
mother a new generation
and I,
full a parental love and pride
watched her
and wondered
when did she grow up?
With a magnificent dramatic manner
she swoons in a forlorn heap
before me
in response to my refusal to indulge her latest request.
I am reminded of her potential.
She is provocative
with the possibilities of Hatshepsut 's stature,
and a gaze that hints of majesty,
exotic lands and fragrances,
and regal miens,
of scientific brilliance and discoveries,
brave new worlds,
of inspired words and philosophies,
and profound contemplation;
of new creations, formulas and fabulous inventions.
Then my minx of a daughter
looks up at me;
a look of willful amusement on her gamin face
and returns to being my inexperienced child.
Youth is a mixture of actor and pope,
prince and pauper,
politician and negotiator.
A simple no
often results
in Wagnerian dramas,
sighs and soliloquies
until tomorrow
when she has new desires, wants and needs,
and more conflicts
with parental dictatorship.
we speak to each other with such artificial heartiness proximity reminds me too much of your failings much easier to chat by phone it is a lifelong sentence a burden to bear motherhood with it's implied loves and losses carried such sorrow and confinement that you ran away thinking to flee responsibilities abandoning me to fate yet forever chained to you by blood and dna there was no instruction manual or blue print defining how to be a mother you thought love would suffice no teacher to elucidate today, if graded you would earn a F for failure a C for cowardice and a D for denial your motherhood having been forsaken while the innocent faltered today repeating over and over i tell myself i am not my mother despite having failed my own son if i cannot forgive you how can he ever forgive me a cycle repeats
A Poetry Challenge from my Friend Debbie
a dandelion drifts lazily in the wind browned on the edges chlorophyll lifelines fading gently as its life cycles ends and renews it gently mocks me my sense of self importance and the urgency I bring to every task endeavoring to imprint something of myself for an unknown posterity “where are your seeds” the dying dandelion inquires as its own progeny flies on the wings of the winds
We called her Shai my infant warrior princess she came into the world full of sound and fury yes, she herald her arrival with lusty cries of outrage. I fell in love with my fiery baby straight wispy Indian black hair alabaster smooth skin peachy pomegranate skin her grey slated gleaming eyes warned me of the titanic battles to come. From the beginning she was self-sufficient knew what she wanted when she wanted stamping her little feet resolved to have her way my little pediatric pack leader. She was daddy's girl similar in likes and dislikes dainty little things bored her rough and tumble her motif and belief. Running as fast as she could this child faced life head on chest thrust out daring the world to take its best shot. Smirk on her beautiful countenance defiance in those eyes kick ass, take no prisoners grit stiffened backbone a glorious woman she became. My daughter Shai La Ghost Warrior princess.
My baby is having a baby and I wonder when did she grow up? I recall a tiny, fragile bundle minute delicate, caramel face crowned with soft, ebony bronzed tipped curls downy velvety skin oyster like ears heart shaped lips faintly visible eyebrows hands so tightly fisted and as I wrapped my body around hers arms sheltering this precious bundle in that first second she stole my heart and never gave it back. I recall all her firsts the first tremulous smile, further entrancing me the first time she said ma ma, oh such precocious brilliance the first faltering steps launching into my arms triumphantly, the first day of school, holding my hand so fiercely not wanting to let go, the first date, as she primped and preened and I looked for a shotgun... and then she were graduating full of plans and opinions it was her turn to change the world discover new inventions scale new heights fall in love and in turn mother a new generation and I, full a parental love and pride watched her and wondered when did she grow up?
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