My pleasure...I guess we would be a tad lost....I know a few that have lost their Mother's at a young age & well they are just not as happy as they could be. Sad but true...makes one cherish their Mother's whilst they're still around, aye?
Leelee, It's a very beautiful poem that you choose to share with us in honor of all the mothers in the world on this Mother's Day week-end! Thanks, LOA
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"Few men are brave:many become so through training and discipline." Flavius Vegetius Renatus
"I think a hero is an ordinary individual who finds strenght to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles." Christopher Reeve
Thanks Leelee, for sharing this wonderful poetry..I remember my Mum just like this...Now she is an Angel, but she was always the same when she was alive.. Thank you, another time. Have a nice time.. Slainte Iolanda
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]Happy who, hovers over the life..feels the language and the fragrance of the simple things and the flowers.. (C. Baudelaire)
If you lose, don't lose the lesson ... (XIV Dalai Lama)
Thank you Iolanda, my pleasure My mom is in her early 80's & she has given us a few scares this year. We must cherish our Mum's every moment we have, Mother's Day or no , as we never know when they will be taken from us.
The moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of that wonderful mother of mine. The birds never sing but a message they bring Of that wonderful mother of mine. Just to bring back the time, that was so sweet to me, Just to bring back the days, when I sat on her knee.
I pray every night to our Father above, For that wonderful mother of mine. I ask Him to keep her as long as He can That -- wonderful mother of mine. There are treasures on earth, that made life seem worthwhile, But there's none can compare to my mother's smile.
You are a wonderful mother, dear old Mother of mine. You'll hold a spot down deep in my heart, 'Till the stars no longer shine. Your soul shall live on forever, On through the fields of time. For there'll never be another to me, Each melodious measure, Oft the teardrops flowing, Oft they flow from my memory's treasure.
Her life was not as glorious as some, Devoted to her children and their children, Taken up by quiet tedium: What's left when dreams are scattered to the wind. She loved too well, perhaps, and fought too hard To make a marriage work that wasn't right. She was, of all bright loveliness, a shard Struck off to bring our lives the gift of light. There are those whose lives are shaped by love; Whose pleasures, rich and full, are found in giving; Who make our wild hearts bloom and passions move Into measured fields made lush by living. Without her all the gold's gone from the day; She will be missed far more than we can say.
I love you and I need you, even though I may at times have made you tear your hair! I set myself apart, but even so Your presence and your love are always there. You are my jail cell and ten-ton door That keeps me from just being who I am. And so I pound the walls and go to war, Ramming all the rules that I can ram. Yet though I must rebel, all the while I know your love's the ground on which I stand. I wait upon the flash of your proud smile And twist inside at every reprimand. I'm sorry for the times I've caused you pain; After these brief storms, love will remain.
My Mother was just a Woman, not well educated, but loved to read. She had an untrained voice but when she sang the angels were envious. She had all the faults and foibles of an ordinary person and a temper that would stop the Devil in his tracks. Married at 18, a Mother at 19, and a Widow at 21. She was born of poor working class folk in Scotland, lived through the depression and World War II. Remarried to a Canadian when I was three and moved to Canada when I was five. She raised me and Loved me and hammered me when I stepped out of line. She was the one who ran the family. She was Catholic and drew great strength and comfort from her Religion and it cut her to the quick when her only son and child walked away from the church, but she understood and forgave. In her 66 years of life she was hurt many times by fate, by an adulterous second husband and by a rebelious son. I loved her and at times I disliked her but she was my MOM and I would give anything just to hear her call in that Scottish brogue"DAVID, time for supper Son" just one more time. If she was right I fervently hope she is with Her God in that place she called Heaven for she deserves it.
Camac.
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