My Mother
Posted by Justin Reilly | Filed under Poetry, Print
My mother
She’s like Oprah without all the cameras and fake car give-a-ways
Like shed give you marital advice and never ask you to plug her book afterwards
She’s Mother Teresa with a little more swag
I’m thoroughly convinced shed give a stranger the clothes off
her back and feel no shame walking home naked
She’s Betty Crocker with just a little more spunk
You know the kinda women you always want on your side
When Ur the kid who just beat up the superintendent of Jersey Public
Schools son
Yea my mother is not only Satan’s arch enemy
She’s a super hero
Equipped with super sonic hearing
Crazy balance and about 4 to 5 arms
And a heart full of enough compassion to heal
Any sorrows a wanderer like me has ever had
I’ve seen her drive a big-body suburban with one her knee
While checking the directions
Feeding my younger brother
And still managing to knock me upside the head for messing with my
sister
To be serious though
I’ve never someone so beautiful in my life
An old painters definition of beauty
“the sum of parts put together in such a way that nothing need be
added, taken away, or altered”
That is my mother…beauty incarnate
Someone who can be Ur best friend
Your biggest critic
And still make a mean and I mean mean meatloaf to ease any anxiety that
you may still be having during day
My mother
Is wing clipped angel, earthbound just so a few of us
Never forget what it felt like hours before conception
When we were playing hopscotch on the golden bricks of heaven
She is a daily reminder of why we reach for the sky
And swallow star dust in our vocal cords
Gods way of saying
the simplest pleasures in life
Can be found in subtle southern accent, a heart felt laugh,
And a smile
That would have converted Saul on the spot
She is the reason why young men like me
Bask in the ambience of their female counterpart
And cherish every moment we are allowed to stare into your eyes
Just hoping to see a little bit of our mothers deep down inside your soul
So I can tap dance, or two step, whatever little jig the kids do these days
Until the sun goes down
And we are left in the star gazed glance of a mother
Who always knew we would make something of ourselves
And yet never let us forget that no matter
how tall we got
Or how deep our pockets ran
Or how colossal our name
She will always be there to remind us of
where we came from
And how we got here
So when they call me a momma’s boy
I chuckle
Raise my eyes and reply
Wouldn’t it be nice
If we were all so fortunate
One Response to “My Mother”
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Victoria Joseph Says:
June 22nd, 2009 at 12:02 amthis reminds me so much of my mom and my dad. i almost shed a tear.
