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Lake

Mother ( CA )

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Lake

Mother

 

The nightstand lamp cast its soft light around us.

You opened the drawer, took out a newly matted

picture. Smiled shyly. The photographer could not

erase the marks from the years printed on your face,

but put a bridal veil over your then young smile.

 

There's no woman who doesn't love being beautiful.

 

In those days when the rain flooded streets,

wind pulled up tree roots, you were like

the sparrow under Turgenev's pen, tucking

your fledglings under your wings till the torrents

drew back, the gale turned into a gentle hiss.

 

There's no mother who doesn't love her children.

 

I've written songs to mountains and rivers,

sun and moon, birds and flowers; I've written

tributes to my father, friends, and hometown.

You, an unceasing creek hidden in the forests,

murmurs, meanders, quietly along its course.

 

Yet, I have never dedicated to you a love song.

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dr_con

Wow. wow. WOW! Lake this is bit of sheer genius. The layers, the self reflection, the expansion of mother- It actually brought a small tear to my eye. I am impressed and humbled.

 

Well, well done.

 

DC


Join the Voodoo rEvolution. Classes forming now: http://www.integralvoodoo.org/

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Aleksandra

Lake I am deeply touched by this poem, this one made me cry, especially now ::( .

 

There is nothing more beautiful than a mother, an icon. Once I took an idea from my dear Nia, I was desperate because of not ability to buy a gift to my mom for her birthday. Nia showed me lovely idea for lovely surprise what is more worth than any bought gift - showing my love to her. So I made the sticky pieces of paper, and put on the doors, showing her the way to my room, where I was waiting her with a kiss. I made my mom happy. That is most important for me to see her smiling, and for her - my kiss and love.

 

Thank you for this poem... Now, I am wordless and ...


The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Lake

dr_con,

 

Your small tear filled up my eyes. Thanks for your appreciation.

 

Alek,

 

Sometimes I think mother is always at the bottom of the list.

Yes, how's Nia doing? Haven't heard about her for a long time.

 

Thank you very much!

 

Lake

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rhymeguy

Such a gentle flowing piece; What I love is that one can place any person from whom they recieved the love, protection and support into the role of Mother. For me it was a dear aunt. You brought back to the front of my memoy the love that she gave to me. She gave, without restriction, all that she could to me.

 

Thanks for the reminder.

 

rg

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Bloodyday

Lake wrote:

 

Mother

 

I’ve written songs to mountains and rivers,

sun and moon, birds and flowers; I’ve written

tributes to my father, friends, and hometown.

You, an unceasing creek hidden in the forests,

murmurs, meanders, quietly along its course.

 

Yet, I have never dedicated to you a love song.

 

Lake, a perfect poem for this day! i like this part which has an enormous impact!

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tonyv

A very moving poem, Lake. I love the sparrow/Turgenev's pen simile. Though I'm not so erudite to have read TURGENEV, I was compelled to look him up. Fascinating! The association between the narrator and her "Mother" and Turgenev and his novel "Fathers and Sons" is quite sophisticated. And I agree with Bloodyday about the impact of the part he referenced.

 

Tony


Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Lake

Thanks rhymeguy, glad you think it flows.

 

BD, glad to see you back. And thanks for the comment.

 

Tony, I didn't read much about Turgeney either. His Sparrow just appeared in our textbook, that allows me to make the association with Mother. Here's the story (translation, I suppose).

 

The Sparrow

by Ivan Turgenev (A Russian writer who lived in the 19th century.)

 

I was returning home from a day's hunting, walking toward the house along a path in my garden. My dog was running ahead of me. Suddenly, the dog slowed her pace and crept forward. She had caught the scent of game.

 

I looked down the path and saw a young sparrow. It had a streak of yellow near its beak and a bit of puff on its head. Clearly it had fallen out of its nest. (A strong wind was swaying the birch trees.) The tiny bird sat there, trying helplessly to flap its wings. But it was too young and the wings were of no use.

 

My dog was stealing closer when suddenly an older black-chested bird fell like a stone right in front of the dog' s face. All its feathers were standing on end and it was uttering a desperate, pitiful chirp. It hopped once and then again in the direction of the dog's jaw.

 

The bird had thrown itself in front of the dog to shield its young one. But its own small body was trembling with terror. Its little voice was frenzied and hoarse, and it was numb with fright. The bird was sacrificing itself!

 

What a huge monster the dog must have seemed to the mother sparrow! Even so, it could not bear to stay on its high, safe perch in the tree. A force stronger than its will to remain alive made it hurl itself to the rescue.

 

The dog, named My Treasure, stopped still and then backed up. He, too, seemed to recognize this force.

 

I quickly called off the dog and we continued on our way. I was awed.

 

Yes, do not laugh. I was awed by that small, heroic bird, by its impulse of love.

 

Love, I felt more than ever, is stronger then death or the fear of death. Only through love is life sustained and nourished.

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badger11

I've returned to this a number of times Lake: for me it has a magic that disarms criticism.

 

badge

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Lake
I've returned to this a number of times Lake: for me it has a magic that disarms criticism.

 

Hi badger,

 

Please do. I mean, please criticize. I know this is not in perfect form, it is still WIP. Probably it is one of the reasons the speaker hasn't written anything for Mother.

 

I'll go put CA on the title line.

 

Thanks much!

 

Lake

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Tinker

Hi Lake, I missed this the first time around, I went to visit my son and his family and only returned yesterday.

 

It is beautiful. I see the CA indication and I will come back to this with a more critical eye in a bit... But for now as a mother, I was touched and I just want to enjoy your lovely words. It is a wonderful tribute to your Mother. It is a great gift for Mother's Day which is next Sunday...

 

~~Tink

 

ps. My son was born on Mother's Day. He is the most astonishing gift I have ever received.


~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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dr_con

Tinker,

 

I too was born on Mother's day ;-) What day?

 

Lake,

 

Sometimes a poem is better than one thinks one is capable of- Some pieces, I return too a year later to be shocked that I could have written it. It seems that a far more talented spirit than my own visited and and took credit- Not all of my work by any means, but a few precious pieces.

 

I suspect, that with time your Id, will agree and see that this is close to perfect;-)

 

DC


Join the Voodoo rEvolution. Classes forming now: http://www.integralvoodoo.org/

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Tinker

DC, happy birthday week! May 7 fell on Mother's Day the year my son was born... Today is his birthday. We celebrated last weekend when I was down south to see my granddaughter receive her First Communion. Now his son is on his way. We expect him any moment, my daughter-in-law is about to pop but so far no contractions. Maybe my grandson will be born on Mother's Day too. It is hard to believe that my only child is about to be the father of 4. Now that gift I received oh so many years ago has certainly paid off in dividends.

 

~~Tink


~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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badger11

hi Lake

Sometimes I feel we have to recognise that writing, like interpretation, reflects gender, age, class, culture, a personal narrative....

 

apologies

 

badge

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