PATIENCE
Missing Mom
I find myself losing patience
Whenever I hear the phone ring
And hear Mom’s voice on the other end.
it's always the same old thing.
“Hello, dear, I'm just checking in.
Just making sure you're OK.”
More than once I just feel like saying:
“I'm the same as I was yesterday.”
I'm not as young as I used to be
where I had patience to spare.
Yet mom is much older and now needs to hear
That her children, though grown now, still care.
Instead of a curt reply to her questions
That she's asked too many times before,
I hold the phone tight as I fight back a tear
And tell her I love her so much more.
My mom has always been there for me
To help when I needed a hand.
I pray every day for patience renewed
So, when the phone rings I'll understand.
A day will soon come when mom drifts away
As a heavenly angel then sings
And my heart will be broken for never again
Will I lose patience when the telephone rings.
That day came not too long ago,
As I sat with mom by her bed.
I held her sweet hand as my heart broke in two
When she breathed her last ragged breath.
About the Creator
Margaret Brennan
I am a 77-year old grandmother who loves to write, fish, and grab my camera to capture the beautiful scenery I see around me.
My husband and I found our paradise in Punta Gorda Florida where the weather always keeps us guessing.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli3 days ago in Poets
Comments (2)
made me think of my own mom and as a son, how indifferent I was. Wish I could do things over.
Not only is this poem a heartfelt story of a life between mother and daughter, but the rhyme and rhythm are spot on! Bravo. Well done.