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I Am Like My Mother

In more ways than one,
I am like my mother....
This stands before anything else:
My family is my priority
I preach to respect seniority
But, sometimes I go soft
Upon hearing pleas from little voices.

My life is replete with family albums,
Sturdy wood furnitures that have lived
Through the years, and most importantly,
Old family traditions my siblings and I
Learned from my mother.
I would prefer for these to be observed
By the succeeding generations,
Where love and kindness to others,
Table manners and saying graces are only
A few of those lessons most often stressed.

The children in my family,
Thy grew up the way I was raised.
Humility is practiced at an early age,
Where no child speaks when not spoken to,
And helping with  the chores is a must...
They are taught early on in their childhood
As soon as they are able to understand...
We have a God, our Creator,
To whom we should always be grateful to....
From Him comes all our countless blessings...

My sisters and I...
We are like a sorority.
Hopefully, the other women in my family
Would eventually realize,
There is an expectation
That my mother's ways should be kept going...
This, my sisters and I would make sure of.

Each morning, my mother would look around
The whole house and its boundaries,
With both her arms akimbo.
Now, it is I who does the surveying,
But, with my hands clasped behind me.
Front, back and sides of the house
All kinds of plants and trees surround...
I make sure they are all green and lush.
Fruit trees and flowering plants in the summer,
Several wild flowers do sprout all year round,
To grace our lives through all kinds of weather.

My mother and I, we had an implied agreement,
We didn't discuss it, never brought it up
In any family gatherings.
It just happened that I knew her so well.
Now that I'm older, I've never been so sure...
I am like my mother,
In more ways than one...

(Written August 28, 2013)


Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
I am thinner than you
Better than you
Fitter than you
Bitter at you
Check out my texts
Don't share my sexts
Here is one breast
Beg for the rest
wiggle jiggle
Giggle
hate you
hate me
Rate me
Wait!
See?
 Nov 2013 soul in torment
Baylee
The love of my life was dead,
Not deceased or cold to touch,
But dead.
He died in the arms of another girl,
All he did was become happier
While I bled.
He stabbed me through the heart
With the things he said,
And he lied.
He walked away from me,
Leaving me there alone,
As I cried.
I left him the key to my heart,
Let him open the door,
Then he left it, open wide.
I let him into my life,
Let him stare into my soul
Through my eyes.
He pulled my heart by the threads
With every tug
The more it bled.
His body is not in a grave,
But I was forced to bury him,
In the back of my mind.
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