Happy Christmas to everyone.
Copyright for all material on this page remains with the creators.
MARY
I’m not the only poor travelling woman
to birth her baby among animals
in a strange town.
I’m not the only mother to watch her son
confound his elders,
overstep the boundaries,
store up trouble for himself.
I’m not the only poor widow to watch her son
walk away with his friends
not knowing where his path would lead him,
trusting that he would return, one day.
I’m not the only mother to watch the son she loved
above all things
dying before her, untimely.
In those precious moments holding my baby
everything was possible,
nothing was written,
the whole earth was filled with joy.
I hold that peace in my heart.
Jo Waterworth
Jo's moving collection My Father Speaks in Poetry too can be purchased from The PS online shop at www.poetryspace.co.uk
You’re
Graceful,
standing like a ballerina
Torso
captivating
Arms
wide, reach out skilfully
Legs
well-made
Foot
arched and toes hard-pressed
Purposefully
on the ground
The
crown, a star, astounding drama
Trinkets
and tinsel
A
Christmas tree.
Johanna Boal 12/12/12
As it is my late Mum's birthday this feels appropriate as I will never stop being Irene's Daughter:
As it is my late Mum's birthday this feels appropriate as I will never stop being Irene's Daughter:
Being Irene’s daughter
My
memory holds
the days
of being
Irene’s daughter
the cosy
winter coming home from school days
when I
lit the fire while
mum
cooked crispy breast of lamb
to eat
with my fingers
the
after the orthodontist treat days
when we
came home
with
half-coated
chocolate
biscuits from Lewises
the
brave radiotherapy sickness days
when I
did the ironing
and mum,
strong spirited as always
supervised
my creases
the
wedding preparation days
choosing
my dress
and hers
on a glorious
rain-
drenched Saturday
and best
of all
the exciting
new mother days
when mum
passed on
her
wisdom and delighted
in
cuddling each new born child
Susan Jane Sims
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