The mothers who I’ve come to know
I’ve seen the distances you go.
And through the years, the laughs, the tears
We've helped each other grow.

We gripe and groan about our post
The endless everyday;
The laundry and the Sunday roast,
The hair that’s going grey

For motherhood is tough.
It is a love that paralyses.
It is selfless and its rough
And full of sacrifices.

I’ve leaned on you to see me through
When I’ve been overwrought
You’ve taught me things I felt I knew
And changed the way I thought!

Thanks for helping me endure
The coughs and sniffs, the cuts and blisters
And the confidence you’ve helped restore.
You aren’t just mums. You are my sisters.

Masking up a disregard
for what?
I didn’t understand
for what.
To be bloodied by bare heart shard?
No deeper love in hand?
I watch you fling scorn upon my faith
As if I’m the one with the chain.
Though I can carve another path;
But for what?
That I am not eclipsed by your shame
What whittles even then
for what-
Dreams shout out the pain
And I cry for what-
A lighter crown, no easy pen
But in reverie you shall sing
And brush away the sometime king
Cast your wishbone here
Truncated untimely year.

Woke up from a slumber
Didn’t know that I was in
You stared my way
You took my hand
And then I led you in.

Adorn yourself with the
uniform of contentment and
grin like the clown you are.
And look up so you might
stop tripping over opportunity
(while you always look ahead).
Making dividends for Fortune-Tellers.
Tell me, did you
mean for this insipid life
or were you just trying to avoid it?

Sigh heavy, bang
******* the hips
and dig a hole
with all your might so
to make you sweat and
groan under the workload.
Idle isn’t lazy, it is caution.

I have to confess
I ain’t sleeping too well
Maybe its best that
I leave for a spell
I won’t tell you
I’m just as blind,
Just as lost as
You are kind
Worth the cost
And when we meet
you can start at my feet.

...
Rain beats against the window
steering in the morning.
The cat,
Shadowed by the dark
and baring tiger teeth,
goads me to resist the day.
But I oppose that ever quick dawn and,
like some nighttime beastie,
Hiss back at the hairy horseshoe
For I prefer to dwell in dullness.
The feline retreats.
Now must I galvanise my senses to rouse.
else would I wallow in a soup of sadness
But looking out at the rain
I choose the soup.

.
I asked you if you loved me.
You declared you did of course.
You bathed me in your holy water
And then shut off the source.

You bathed me in your holy water
To the time that I was clean.
You took possession of my sin
Since then was I redeemed.

You saved me from the living
Stopped walking with the dead.
You bathed me in your holy water
Though you never shared your bed.

I asked you did you love me.
Your answer was, ‘of course’.
You bathed me in your holy water
And then shut off the source.

Forgive me
I needed too much
I needed to soon
I wanted the sun and the stars
And the moon.

Carefully she sets the miniature stage
With mirror and moss.
Elegant almond tips
Place tiny acorn chairs,
Bloodroot and blue violet;
Even a lady’s slipper at the base
Of a matchbox bed.

Kneeling patiently
Her kind eyes smile sadly,
Watch me awkwardly take
The scene away with imagination,
My ardent offering, clumsy
Of dandelions and ***** willows
Little stones and twiggy gates.

For the faerie child too
Will help mother build a garden
I don’t want to go to the lake
I don’t want to go-
I don’t want to miss them.
For faerie-garden making
Is a lifetime spent in minutes

Early mist
Hugging distant
Mountains.
Colder now.
Earlier
Soft spring-warm rain
Released my smile.
And now
Bleak autumn-cold rain
Weeps with me
Shares my pain
For the while.

You can have the
chairs, the bed
and the plates
But I’m keeping
the first dance,
the letters and -
those dates.

Seems like the end but it never started
More reason to be so down hearted
If only there was reason
Maybe then I’d be more strong.
Still I didn’t text you, call, or write you a song.  
Doesn’t mean I didn’t think of you
Or find meaning in the smallest thing

If I had a potion to rid the world
Of this grave pestilence, happy would I
Be to freely share my draught.

If I had a notion to rid the world
Of its grim ignorance, eager would I
Be to freely share my draft.

Words can be misconstrued
When they aren’t said but viewed
Slight offerings that are not meant to slight  
You need to know I’m doing alright
But I hear you are lowly.
Don’t worry, we can take it slowly