Tag: Literature

Motherhood – Day 2 of 48


“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” Robert Browning

at birth

Jared and his Mommy
Jared and his Mommy  

Vic was born to be a mommy. As a toddler she would “discuss” her babies names with me….

“What are you going to be when you grow up Sweetie?”  I would ask

“A mommy” she would reply

There were no if’s or but’s about it as far as she was concerned.  She started “designing” her wedding dress and planning her family at the age of three.  Vic had no ambitions of ever becoming a doctor, lawyer or politician…She only ever wanted to be a Mommy.  Vic had no half-measures in life.  Whatever she did she did with passion…

She loved and lived passionately.

She revelled in the joy of motherhood.  Vic was a passionate mother.  Over protective, caring, loving…

Jon-Daniel and his Mommy
Jon-Daniel and his Mommy

Motherhood took a terrible toll on her body.  Not once did she regret her decision to have the boys – despite the price she paid.

The mention of my child’s name


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The mention of my child’s name

by Kim Knapp

The mention of my child’s name
May bring tears to my eyes,
But it never fails to bring
Music to my ears.
If you are really my friend,
Let me hear the beautiful music of her name.
It soothes my broken heart
And sings to my soul.
~~~~author unknown

http://www.thefuneralsite.com/ResourceCenters/Poetry_and_Quotes/Children.html


This poignant poem was written by a very gifted poet D.L.McHale. When I read it I wondered if this is what is going through my child’s mind. When you have a spare moment please visit the blog http://dlmchale.com. It will be a worthwhile visit! http://dlmchale.com

The Winter Bites My Bones

My dreams are fermented delusions
A kaleidoscope of meandering falls
Through time and space, while the
Screams of my inflictions penetrate
And annihilate my grip on reality.

My waking hours, of which few remain,
Adds another layer of darkness to an
Already bleak existence, while the light
Of relentless self-reflection blinds me to
Any hope of reprieve or absolution.

I stand with one foot in the grave
And the other hobbled by uncertainty.
I do not fear this final step into the abyss
So much as I dread the act of departure;
The inglorious gasp of a final breath
Inhaling the petrichor of a wasted life.

A silent scream rattles from my gut
Cursing the sun of a new day rising.
I cannot bear another savage stroke
From a Sun that fails to warm me.
Let the final night descend and into
Death’s warm embrace enfold my soul.

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