To be

the design of our future,

humble in hand our tears

in your heart do land

whilst the world around


rattles on,

like a mobile above my eyes,

you do soothe me



We are

a society driven by need

to celebrate, honor the beauty


bestows on our world,

her constant companion

of love, of heart,

a passionate embrace

a tear swept in a lonely adolescent

rite of passage,

her own tear

when soon we depart her grasp.


There is

the reality for some,

the beauty of woman

whom without the hand of God

are left without child,

yet know,

without our love from everyone

all of her celebratory delight,

we would lose all sense of nature,

if left to individuals alone.

So we do celebrate you,

mother of our soul,

our lives,

those you will nurture

by instinct,

whether sown or known.



in all respects of love

we do cherish your being

without your hand

to touch our tears

we are sullen and grave,

yet today we are delightful

in knowledge of your reality.




When recognizing how far we have come,

she is always standing welcome,

When after a serious fall we need support,

she is always holding court,

when we couldn’t possibly talk about it,

she laughs with smile at our sarcastic wit

when wondering just how dark the night sky

she’ll be there to help understand why.

While mountains are moved by men of men

nearby again, she’ll wait until only when.

We think of her when our emotions run awry

her just knowing will help us sleep to-nigh.

I remember when as a  child I skinned my knee,

she told me to let the wounds heal free.

If I could walk with mom down 28th avenue again

with her by my side, please tell me when.

She is a memory in my mind today and tomorrow,

without her value my perceived life is hollow.

I glance upon the rain soaked clouds in the sky

knowing just beyond the horizon she is nearby.

Family By Mom

I was reminded again why I love you,

because I can cry with you,

laugh with you,

imagine you,

and know you’re always the same.

Generations of all of us now become the you

we one time only imagined to be,

in the watchful eyes of Mom.

Today we look the same,

act the same,

believe in many of the same things,

and laughter connects our lives,

the stories, the memories, the visions

of our future, now become the eyes of the children,

a period of life returned with similarities.

We sit the same, hug the same, hold value with one another,

in that manner we recall when as children we wondered,

just what all of the fuss was about

What did they do with their lives,

and why do they matter to us.

One, young woman, child,

plays with a small toy, totally focused and consumed,

while another, smiling elder, she is elegant,

sits back, reflects on this, her, world around her,

this matriarch, her hands created, that today she indeed,

dotes upon with her own quiet elegance,

recalling just that day only yesterday,

she held the same toy, similar passions in her hand.

In family, we do the same,

we love the same,

we believe the same,

the desire to know each other,

our tears,

we are all … love

in a mother’s eyes.

She Is Our Mother

I remember once when I was a child

I skinned my left knee and mom called it mild.

There was a moment there when I wondered

when life was lucky when then I wandered.

I could run through fences, bouncing off walls

by night’s end her love would fix my pratfalls.

I remember with every scream, my tantrums

soft her eyes welled, her sweet patience, like strums

on chords of melody singing the blues.

I would today relish assured reviews

contained in her strength, drawn by her own love

that now gives comfort, surreal above.

Our lives are modeled as her heart welcomes;

Delight in our elegant beautiful Moms.