Today is celebrated as Mother’s Day.

Though not officially a prompt, POETIC BLOOMINGS offers you the opportunity to pay homage to your moms, either with a personal comment or a bit of poetics telling the world what makes your Mom the best for which you could have wished.

Whether you are still blessed by your mother’s presence or basking in your heartfelt memories of her, give mom her due. Just our way of saying:



  1. It’s not Mother’s Day here, but what the heck!

    Mother’s Day

    Thirty years ago I lost my mother
    un-maternal, she’d become a friend
    until in later years she was my child.
    Now at last to close the family circle
    my daughter is my mother, I the child.

  2. No Smoke There

    other people’s mothers wore skirts
    and high heels even to vacuum –
    she – no truck for girly silliness –
    my mom wore white
    sweatshirts and jeans rolled
    at the bottom – bare feet in

    she was a waft of Channel #5
    and cigarettes bobbing up
    and down while she spoke
    poking holes at the world with
    her index finger – she told me
    her friends called her Stretch
    because she was so tall …
    I knew she didn’t have to reach
    to touch
    the tip of
    the sky

    my mother…
    some saw just
    a kid
    “too young to be
    in love” – but
    I knew ….
    I knew ….
    the truth
    no smoke
    no mirrors

  3. Terrific, Pearl. Your last stanza reminded me of when I was about 10, someone knocked at the door and when my Mum answered it said “Is your mother in?”. I was naive enough to recognise the youthfulness of my parent rather than a salesman’s ploy!


    I come to the grounds of your rest;
    the best I can do to be with you today.
    The sky is unsettled, and dreams long
    since dreamed land clumsily shattering
    like glass. I rub your stone; an image
    of your name in charcoal remains,
    stains of a heart broken, this small token
    of the life you gave me. I listen and murmurs
    blown though barren tree branches
    whisper, waiting for the axe to fall.
    And all at once it vanishes. Memories
    of a mother departed still close to heart.

    (C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

  5. Including a link here (I hope) to an old Mother’s Day offering … and it also includes a couple more — (older Mother’s Day links) — at the bottom of the posting.) 😉

  6. It feels a bit emotional coming back here again…

    The Difficulties of Dogwoods and Lilacs

    There was this worry,
    that we’d wear out her name.
    Mum! Mum! The way you’d wear out
    your Sunday best shoes if you wore
    them on Tuesdays or Thursdays.

    The years have carved us into
    a difficult relationship, but
    I have learned a lot from my mother –
    so I never smacked my children.
    I chose words like treasures

    because they can scar, get carried
    around like a fat arse that
    everyone tries to ignore, and
    that scar just continues to hum
    even when no one can remember

    its tune. I spoke to Mum yesterday,
    wished her a happy Mother’s Day.
    She said she got a tray of seedlings
    from my sister. The tag says they’re
    asters, but they’re not, Mum said,

    they’re zinnias. Don’t much like ‘um.
    And, she said, the dogwood trees
    are blooming. Last year they dug up
    the maple trees because the roots
    upended the pavements. (She tells me

    this every time we speak, and it
    was 4-years ago, not last year.)
    I remember the dogwood tree outside
    my bedroom window at our house, I said,
    and Mum says, that was a lilac bush.

    No, definitely a dogwood, I say,
    I remember it blooming every year
    when I studied for final exams.
    Lilac, she insists, I remember it,
    and you flunked most of your exams.

    So I change the subject. Like I said,
    I’ve learned a lot from Mum – when
    and how to pick my battles, and how
    to turn a conversation before it
    becomes an eternal scar because

    my mum also taught me that we love
    each other even when it’s not easy.


    (c) Misky 2016

    • It was an emotional return Marilyn. I though it might be, that’s why I offered this to get it out of our system. We’ll start Wednesday in earnest with a form prompt and should be daring to go by next Sunday. Happy to see everyone stepping up today.

    • Oh Misky from the title throughout the narrative and the blossoms fallen, misread, and the ending where ultimately “we love each other even when it’s not easy”… so exquisite –

  7. Something from one of my unsubmitted devotional books from years past:

    A Mother’s Legacy

    Tasked by God, their destiny in life
    To pass in pain the next generation
    To bear, to care for the next in line
    The role accepted by willing women

    Nine long months with child within
    Maternal bonds grow strong between
    Mother and child share all but soul
    Two together, still one yet unseen

    Then comes the day, the miracle, birth
    Life springs forth, and God smiles down
    Another wonder of His great love
    Another diamond in mankind’s crown

    All made possible by women willing
    Through pain and tears bore you and me
    The sacrifice years long they gave
    As has been throughout history

    Since Eve, until the end of time
    Mankind will be their cross to bear
    To pass life down from now to next
    A Mother’s legacy, each one so rare

    For all who give life, God bless each one
    For each sacrifice, He has a reward
    For Mother dear, thank you for my life
    And for your love, I thank the Lord

  8. The Mother of Alzheimer’s

    Who birthed (unearthed)
    This unwelcome invasion,
    Or gave it the right
    To hijack each occasion
    Meant to endure and assure her
    She’s loved. She belongs.

    It ceaselessly wrongs her,
    Assassinates her senses;
    Condenses her being
    To fleeting moments,
    Thought amputation,
    Self dislocation,
    And few kin.

    And it will win.

    © Marie Elena Good, 2016


    She started
    her career early
    (at fifteen).
    Her training
    was on the job. Fifty-four
    years on: going strong!

  10. “thought amputation” powerful image in a soaring tribute to love, to righteous anger, to pain of loss and yes back to the power of forever love that will win even when the hijacker “it” may eventually appear the victor.

    (for Josephine Amico Buttaci)

    When God looked out at the world He made
    And saw how His creatures had forgotten
    His gift of creation,

    When God saw the world rich in poverty,
    Ruined by wars and filled with those
    Empty of love,

    And when God heard the hungry children
    Crying, tricked, abandoned
    In the streets,

    When God thought of me, my brothers, my sisters
    Not yet born into that unsafe world,
    He created my mother.


  12. A great warm-up to the start of the POETIC BLOOMINGS rebirth. We return for keeps on Wednesday with our INFORM POETS feature. From what I’ve witnessed so far, I’m excited to get everyone together again. I can sum it up in three words: Poetry, Poetry, Poetry!

    WHEN ( a poem to my mother)

    When I entered this world
    In traumatic uncertainty,
    Your loving arms
    They held me.
    Uncertainty assured.

    When I ran to you with skinned knee
    In painful agony,
    Your loving hands
    They comforted me.
    Agony assuaged.

    When I questioned my faith
    And perfect eternity,
    Your life the example
    Testified to me.
    Eternity envisioned.

    When I set my course
    Standing independently,
    Your trusting smile
    Encouraged me.
    Independence embraced.

    When I entered motherhood
    Harboring insecurity,
    Your wise words
    Gave strength to me.
    Security encircled.

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