POEM OF THE DAY: "MY MOTHER"

 

Dear George, 

I don’t know how I got started on it, but recently I’ve been working on a poem titled “My Mother”. It’s been a very engrossing task, and it’s brought back many happy memories. Here’s my current version. 

Love, 

Dave 

                         MY MOTHER 

My mother grew up in the flapper age 

The Roaring Twenties, the Charleston the rage 

Her life path was shaped by that stage 

My mother met my father in school 

She found him charming and cool 

And he felt that she was a jewel 

My mother could have been a Hollywood star 

Her beauty cream was kept in a porcelain jar 

The fairest of the P.T.A. mothers by far 

My mother birthed a girl and three boys 

The boys made commotion and noise 

But she taught the girl style and poise 

My mother was enamored of flowers 

Cultivating her garden for hours 

Her green thumb had wondersome powers 

My mother liked riding a horse 

Which gave her a sense of brute force 

When the stable shut down, much remorse 

My mother was an actress on stage 

Played a tiger who escaped from its cage 

“That’s my mom!” I yelled, three years of age 

My mother was an avid jazz fan 

For her, Louis Armstrong was the man 

Play some Louis, she’d dance the can-can 

My mother took me to my first movie 

“Meet Me in St. Louis,” so groovy 

My most exciting outing as a juvie 

My mother taught us all the birds’ names 

Bird-watching was one of our games 

Wild turkeys and pheasants, our aims 

My mother was a razzmatazz cook 

She mastered Irma’s joyous cookbook 

Broiled whitefish, fresh off the hook 

My mother did La Parlor de Beauty 

The homies, great gossip, never snooty 

Enter frazzled, walk out as a cutie 

My mother enjoyed a big party 

Hanging out with Jackie and Marty 

Costumes, poetry, oil paintings, so arty 

My mother would boat on Green Bay 

Mike and Jean, the whole gang for the day 

Fish Creek and Egg Harbor on the way 

My mother planned a Christmas Eve soiree 

All our cousins came over to play 

Uncle Karl’s fancy gifts made the day 

My mother saved our Irish Setter Mike 

Who fell through the ice on a hike 

She risked her own life for that tyke 

My mother and dad loved their Farm 

She decorated the cabin with charm 

A family escape, safe from harm 

My mother adored Lovey, her cat 

hite Angora and just a smidge fat 

Lovey’d jump on her lap for a chat 

My mother expired in Eighty-Six 

Of afflictions the docs couldn’t fix 

My plan: Meet for lunch near the Styx