Friday, May 27, 2011

Stretching the Mark of Mother

Time has threaded these violet lines
like purple bruising flames burn
with fierce claim
to what was once
something she was honoured for
in wax bikini fame

She hooks to one with her mind and pulls
screaming twisted purple
bruising blues of pain
and there you are
in the back of mind
always lurking
reminding her
of why these marks came their way
of why she is scarred and he still looks the same
Not fair not fair not fair she claims
to the wicked violet flames

and as her mind claims hook to another line
the brightest of
has entered her room
and asks
what are you doing mommy
your face looks funny
why are you playing with your tummy
do you want me to tickle you

and all that was and all that is and all the flames and pains and gains
stand small and innocent
wanting nothing from you
Only what you give
mothers love
and to tickle your tummy 

6 comments:

  1. As a father, this elicited much love.

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  2. This is beautiful Beez. Thanks for sharing it ...

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  3. Thankq so much I am full of gratitude for each person who gives their time here to read my words much love to all Beez always ;()

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  4. Perfection is bland and sterile, imperfection the mother of our future.

    Weaving from one moment to the next, and the link is there, unstated.

    I have to smile! Thank you for the poem! :)

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  5. Thank you for sharing yourself with us. You are very brave. <3

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