This week's prompt over in the Blockchain Poets' community is titled Mama. You're invited to write poems inspired by your mother. Here's the link with the details, please participate if you can.
I really loved this prompt though I deviated from it a bit, sharing two poems I had previously written on this theme instead one.
In the first poem, Mama Taught Me, I focus on life lessons from my mom. In the second poem, Mère Bénie, I shift attention to Mary, mother of Jesus, and sought to imagine Joseph's reaction the morning after the holy birth.
It is my sincere hope that both poems were written respectfully and tastefully and that you appreciate the direction taken.
I never saw my mother cry but she laughed often,
her laughter long and loud and boisterous as she gave us her joy and held onto her pain,
burying it deep in her chest like a pearl.
And you've got to be looking closely
To catch the rare glimpse
Of sadness peeping from behind the curtain of her lashes before disappearing again as she smiles.
My mother loved me unconditionally
Though I wish we would hug more often.
I wish she would fold me into her arms
And press my head against her chest, close, the way she held onto her pain.
I wish she would soothe my anxiety
The way she quieted my cries as a baby
Rocking gently,
Crooning softly,
Her gentle melody calming me.
My mother once sang in a church choir.
And though she had no formal training besides her transistor radio,
Though she couldn't tell the difference between bass, alto and soprano,
She loved to sing.
And her voice was the most beautiful thing.
My mother taught me many things, today I'll focus on three.
She taught me:
The cock is crowing.
My eyelids are heavy.
But I struggle, lashes sweeping against the cobwebs of sleep as I stare at you, overwhelmed.
In your arms, a little piece of heaven-
stretching, twisting, cuddling, responding to your gently cooing
As clouds gather around tree trunks outside
And the purple sky turns to gray,
Night's diamond studded velvet fading away.
I wipe damp hair strands away from your brow, heart quickening,
hands shaking
As you smile at me tremulously, blushing furiously,
Expressing from your fountain to searching lips,
Mother's milk, this is God's gift.
Sunlight rises, blinding as night's tears dry.
Still, wonders outside cannot compare to our miracle within.
I am in awe of you.
I have looked upon you and seen that a woman can contain God.
"Mère bénie, I love you."
