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| | A mother's lamentPage 2 of 32 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32) | One of the firsts in your life
Is holding your newborn babe
In your arms
Overwhelmed by so many feelings
Flowing through you
All at one time
And you wonder who this little creature is
Where did it come from?
And as you gaze into those wide questioning eyes
You are faced with the decision
Of what to name this child.
Over and over again you play with sounds
Formations, meanings, combinations
Scrambling the letters much like a poem
Trying to associate an innocent face
With the name she will be known by
For a lifetime and beyond
You don’t want to make a mistake
Or have her come back some day
Asking why did you call me that?
It’s one of those moments
When something feels right
A tender kiss on the head
You bless your child
With meaning and birth
A name for identities sake. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/3/2006 7:48:18 PM | Hey everyone
Just got in from a very long drive home. Black ice, sleet, white outs, police, ambulances, accidents. And I felt so safe, OK, just drive slow. Good music, (Macy Gray kick right now) Get home. Here I am, little stressed from a work week away. Youngest daughter, 17 stayed home alone while I was away for the first time in her life, to look after things. Just got her licence, first time alone with a car too! Slush, sleet, black ice, daughter with car, can’t get her on her cell phone to tell her to park. Finally she calls, just as I am getting closer to home and the weather conditions are now much better, and my fear seems silly. She’s fine, was at the movies, cell off. Breathe. Well, no dishes got washed, of course, and the fire was out, but the dogs and cats and fish were fed, and she’s safe.
Next in line 19 has driven to NS to visit her sister 21, who moved out there with 3 friends on a dare. Tomorrow morning I meet my oldest and her fiancé at the caterers to discuss their upcoming marriage, Summer, that’s upcoming to my serious planner girl. My spontaneity must drive her nuts. Ah Mothers.
So. Autumn They ARE little girls for ever.
Shadow. That was so sweet, and said exactly how I feel. Bet we’re the same kinda Mamma!
I am crying
Rainbow. That was the most beautiful prayer to the Goddess I have ever read. Can we all say it if we want, as a prayer? Is it published?
I am humbled
Aloysha, yes Mothers, Sisters, Lovers daughters, it’s still Mother. Good one, says a lot.
Autumn, Ok, now I am weeping, part tired, part road weary, part fear release, you guys have made me cry, thanks.
I
Love ripples throughout creation,
And resonates,
Surging towards eternity’s call.
Composing waves that full embrace,
All fates,
All truth, realities of all.
Earth creates metaphor of life
In her own way
With light received through sun and star.
Arranging conscious intentions
So that we may
Discover through her, who we are. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/3/2006 8:12:09 PM | Tucking them into bed each night
Backrubs, stories simple prayers
Lullabies of light
To guide them off to sleep
Questions to answer
Discoveries to share
French braiding and brushing
Simplicity
An age of acceptance
It’s not as easy to mother
Their perimeters have widened
As have your worries stretched
They do not sit upon your lap
Thumb in mouth
Blanket stroked
Cuddles
Roles changing
Unknown destinations
It frightens me a bit
They are out frolicking
Under an almost full moon climbing
And with boys
It may be time for a glass of wine
And a good book. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/6/2006 8:32:43 AM | I have already posted this one to a different forum, but wanted to share it on this thread:
Mothers, Take Your Daughters
Mothers take your daughters to the fragrant earth
and let them feel the richness of the loamy soil
as it passes between their nimble fingers.
Take them to the mighty spruce and pine, and let
them hear the whistling windsong in the copse and thicket.
Mothers, take your daughters to the wheat and oats,
and let them touch each grain and grind, so that the living spirit
of our crops will speak in every pit-pat of their floured hands on dough.
And let them see the calf when newly born, and the spring foal
on wobbly legs on a dew-kissed vernal morning.
Mothers, take your daughters to the sparkling brooks
and streams, and let them see the stones so washed and cleansed,
that they may know the honing of our souls lies not in ritual
or construct, but in the eternal ebb and flow of universal tides.
Mothers, take your daughters to the sun and stars, and to
the moon that gleams with silver sheen so they may see
that they are but a particle in this vast mystery.
And show them that the soil and trees and polished pebbles
are all imbued with Spirit’s breath. Mothers, let the wonder
be entrusted to a generation which will aptly care
for this sweet earth, our sacred gift,
with tender hands of love and true compassion. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/6/2006 9:42:59 AM | | I am so blown away by that poem, I cry every time I read it. You are an amazing woman. So wise. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/6/2006 6:05:06 PM | A wet little kiss
Upon your lips
A nuzzling nose
Wiggling
Chubby arms reaching
Pick me up mummy
Pick me up. | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/6/2006 6:30:53 PM | Great thread neseemoo, hope you dont mind that i drop something by, i think it fits.
Being Enough
I saw the generosity in material
Of my mother's sundress
Playful response just below the knees
Hidden hands and sandal-ed feet
In dewy lawn-ed memories
Salvation's childhood retreat
Robin's nest in the timeless maple tree
Guardian of shade
In days we could outrun the sun
Measured in picnics and watermelon seed
Those times when pleasure
Was enough
Just in the being | |
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| Patchworking for the Mother
Posted: 11/6/2006 7:10:05 PM | Wow Blitz, am honered to have your words here. Mamma. measured in picnic and watermelon seed. Love it. thanks, ya, she fits just fine!
Hey Autumn, sweet write. How are the girls? | |
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| The Keepers of the Springs
Posted: 11/12/2006 7:22:46 PM | This one is dedicated to the true healers of this world, with gratitude
The Keepers of the Springs
You find them in the forests green,
Amidst the moss and fern,
Keeping the sacred waters clear,
For those who seek to learn.
With healing hands and council wise,
Knowledge of herb and bloom,
Their dedication dignifies,
The mantle they assume.
The soothing song of oceans wave,
Rock softly to the shore.
In healing springs volcano born,
They share their gifts once more.
Coconut oils caress the skin,
Enlightened hands bring peace,
Through golden sunlight laughter rings,
With gentle breathe release.
You find them in the desert sands,
Within oasis green,
Ancient knowledge spun through time,
Beneath the veils are seen.
With sacred oils, exotic spice,
The parched and weary fill.
The desert healers hold their space,
With pure intent and will.
High up in mountain temples where,
The sacred waters flow.
The pilgrims come from many lands,
To watch the prayer flags blow.
The ancient wisdoms contemplate,
The sorrow and the pain,
Upon the healing meditate
And bring to peace again.
Among the Islands in the sun,
And in the jungles dark,
By secret pools of sacred spring
The old ones leave their mark.
And if by chance you ask just right,
And for good spells you pray,
They’ll teach the truths you need to know,
To help you on your way.
In ancient lands where dragons breath,
Still keep the sacred fires
You’ll find the old ones practice still,
The teachings of their sires.
The holy waters from their wells,
Are said to cure all pain,
Offered with blessings, prayer and hope,
Rejuvenates again.
And where the prairie grasses blow,
Sweet water hole awaits,
Where jaded travelers come by chance,
Still guided by their fates.
They find Elders camped by the springs,
The mystic and the mage,
Who share medicine from their hearts,
With sweetgrass smoke and sage.
They are the keepers of the springs,
That hold to sacred ways,
Of ancestors that teach us still,
And guide us through these days.
Sentient knowledge gleaned through time,
The faith of human kind,
These healers from all walks of life,
Mend body, soul and mind. | |
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| The Keepers of the Springs
Posted: 11/13/2006 8:50:56 PM | You opened your eyes, and reflected there I saw
the wisdom of her years
You stretched out your arms, and I remembered
being wrapped in safety
You took your first step, I understood
the wonder as she sighed
You lost your first love, I knew
my pain she realized
You moved away and once again,
I felt her teardrops fall | |
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| The Keepers of the Springs
Posted: 11/14/2006 3:13:04 PM | Welcome to the Mothers patchworkers Havebait. That was beautiful. Are there more?
(greedy little reader am I) | |
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| Magdalena
Posted: 11/14/2006 5:31:16 PM | The Magdalena dreamed.
And in her dream she made a new world.
Visioned it so very carefully, it unfurled
Like a tapestry of woven starlight
Lighting up the oblivious night
With possibilities new found.
Standing together, breaking ground
For a fresh start, a new beginning.
They called it sinning
For her to think that woman may have her own contribution.
Afraid of her retribution,
They silenced her voice
Reduced her to tears
For two thousand years.
The Magdalena dreamed
And her dream held within
No trace of bitterness or sin
But waited for fertile mind
To unwind
And germinate in the waters
Of the sons and the daughters,
In the rivers of time,
Where dreams can climb
Into the totality
Of a brand new reality. | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/19/2006 10:10:19 PM | I love them so much
I want to pour myself into them.
I dig my roots so deep in Mammas fecundity that her very essence,
becomes my core.
Pull her love up through my trunk, of realities tricks,
And explode all that I have within me out through those blossoms.
I want every wise thought and good choice I ever experienced,
To open those petals,
Softly and gently.
I want every wish and deep desire I ever dreamed,
To coax dew drops down to feed them.
I want to breathe myself through them,
That their very scent may remind us all,
Who we are.
And yet, I must let them choose.
I must be.
Offer, but do not attach myself to their acceptance.
They must really be able to choose,
free from guilt and duty,
or the choosing is meaningless.
They must make the right choices for them, not me,
And only their souls will know that choice.
And in my great love for them,
I know I must sacrifice my greatest desire,
To pour all that I am through them in love,
And stand back instead,
And go about my business
Of just being.
And let them just be.
And in that moment,
pregnant with forever,
I am one with the Great Mother,
And all Mothers,
And I know,
That we are all one | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/20/2006 2:11:50 AM | I wrote a poem for my mom today...
Sometimes is so easy to take her for granted...
I read and learn more of the beauty in mothers...
They're my absolute favorite, I just don't see any greater good
I'm emotionally moved with the strength of motherhood I have read for the last few hours...
I feel that I have been able to celebrate a bit tonight, thanks for the thread neseemo
Sometimes it's easy to bounce from thread to thread seeing so much beauty when the "women we seek" show their best form, motherhood.
Just really appreciating the fairer sex. | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/20/2006 2:21:15 AM | | As we apreciate our brothers. Welcome Intensity to the Mothers place, for Daughters, Sons, Mothers, Fathers, Sisters and Brothers...All children of the Mother anyway. | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/20/2006 3:49:48 AM | In honesty I admit
no mother showed me the way
yet in pain she delivered me
my pain was to find her pain
until I discovered animals in humanity
no let me be even more truthful
no animal denies the basic rights of shelter
...the human mother and father denied me
I was born in spirit
with souls who caressed me
with a knowing I refuse to deny
Admitting in years gone by
I pretended it did not exist
With age or you might say insanity
I'll burn at the stake
swearing that the spirit lives within
Names never written in stone
with no logic nor clarity
I just know they guide me
laugh if you will at my
inability to define
I only pity myself that I can't express
In words written with verbal understanding
Yet I have three stars
Mixed in gender I’ll declare
Who understand the spirits
For even they, in such early wisdom
Were taught
I am the being in mother
But spirits in motherhood
Offer guidance and protection
In love called
Motherhood
…if these are my last words
My children
Always remember
The event of the car heading towards us
Rushing in deep fog, before our time
Mother spirit prevailed…just remember | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/20/2006 9:52:21 AM | | Always, I often see the spirit of the Mother dance through your words, and am moved by them. thank you for dancing her on this thread. You are Always welcome to share your Dream understandings, that you write up so beautifully, here. | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/22/2006 1:48:58 AM | I still bow to the door you opened in Daughters'...mother starts in the name of ...Neseemoo
this belongs here...and so on?
when my angel was born
before her time
I knew her
in dreams I was told
her name...
waking I laughed for I was
devoid of cells in my name...
the twist is
arriving
seven weeks before
in hours before delivery
she showed
the being she is...
a few harrowing months passed
sickness in prematurity I was advised
this continued even though
I asked the wise soul
when do I say so?
he replied
don't look to me for answers
for I might not reply in your favour
then beseech the answers
and trust your mother's instinct
the doctor advised!
six years went past
I saw the death before me
of a soul in purity
my daughter
I screeched...I don't know
but am fed up with lies of dirtiness
for I remember
mixing chemicals
my friend arriving before I blew up
up in eternity
I was not dirty nor my child
another lie
my heart breaks
for your father would die
before he would
touch you that way
lies, lies...LIES
I finally understood
in your answer for a cure
I trusted my mother's instinct
I remembered the words
trust your mother's intution
I tried, tried and tried
until the end
I could not go on
a mother's intution I tried
another dozen doctor you were
or where you the unlucky thirteenth?
until I could not talk anymore
I won't have her dying in my arms
I've tried, tried and so much more
yes you keep her
and her death
lays on your breathe
for I have tried, tried and more
please don't think I am heartless
listen to the rest...
yes I left her
in a hospital full of sick children
only until I could
assure the rest
and return in haste...
home I arrive
siblings in love
the other parent disapproving
who the hell do you think you are?
where are your medical facts?
ummmmmm I think that is when
my gold band started to twist?
nevermind I stood my ground
I owe you
but nothing before my
... daughter's breath,,,
or the children we share
the marriage vows should
be amended in my pledge
...honour thy children...
there's so much more
but my daughter breathes
no longer do I wear the band of gold
peacefully I sleep
knowing she breathes
I've done my best
13 going on 23 in age
but wisdom in centuries
with so much in the future she holds
my love in eternity she knows
I breathe in peace
I don't believe in medical science
there's so much more untold
inbetween
stories to be still told...
it's ok
my sisters' understand | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/22/2006 8:34:54 AM | Oh woman, do I ever understand. Soul Stretching. Thats what it is. Stretching till we can hold eternity and love it into being. Daughters of the Mother and all.
That was very moving AD. | |
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| For my Daughters
Posted: 11/23/2006 10:02:59 AM | AD,
There is nothing more heart wrenching then having to seek for answers on behalf of a sick child. There is also nothing more frustrating then having our questions fall on deaf ears, having to wage war on a medical profession that should be there to serve us. The pressure this puts on our family life is akin to the pressure placed by snow on a tree branch. The weight of the snow bending the branch until at last it breaks. Lucky are the very few who have a partner willing to risk their own freezing fingers, and sweep off the brach so that it stays intact.
Tammie | |
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| For my Sisters
Posted: 11/25/2006 11:50:36 AM | “I think you were meant to find me,
and help me through a rough time. “
How many of them had heard that line?
Prelude to, now that I’m feeling fine,
I’ll be off?
“I’m so grateful for your support over the years,
You’ve really been there for me.
I wish I could have been there for you,”
Then that stuff about how much better off she’ll be,
Without…
The Magdalena’s never learn, no doubt
It looks like it should be their quest,
To try their very best
Not to open in love, in hope or desire?
But to become jaded, shut down, kill the fire,
So as not to hurt,
Ever again.
But they are her daughters,
The Magdalene’s,
In spirit anyway,
And in dreams.
And no matter what anyone would say,
They would do it over and over again,
Expanding so deep,
Until their hearts are big enough to cradle the whole universe’s pain,
And rock it gently back to healing sleep. | |
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| For my Sisters
Posted: 11/25/2006 12:07:56 PM | ad you are such a strong woman of depth and very provacative in your free flowing expression. thank you for sharing more and more each day; amazing you, delightful loving wonderful you.
nes your writes have a few times brought tears to my eyes, every other time evoked much feeling within all that is me. thank you for sharing yourself and honoring us all with your beauty, wisdom and grace. you are edification itself personified. | |
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| For my Sisters
Posted: 11/25/2006 12:15:19 PM | You write so eloquently,
I didn’t even know what edification meant.
Had to look it up,
learned a new word for respect.
From a poets soul, left wide open to truth
Such as yours, I am honoured
For your words thank you.. | |
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