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I love my mom
with unabashed cliche,
                    when we hug, when we
                    telephone, cross this kanuk-country
she used to play guitar,
plaints and paradisios mostly,
laying licks in a mushy maudlin key,
while thinking of my wee brother
                              billy and me,
f a t h e r less sons,
                a long way off,
left behind to be,
                  educated in the street,
                      bent by the back alley,
by bees and blossoms, too early, too early,
by black-billed Magpies cawing in the trees,
by movies, music and whom-ever,
would take us in for money;
by surly-men with rolled-up sleeves,
by women slapping our face,
'til we learnt to say, 'Mam, may I, please',
by tape-recorders and radios,
but especially
by TV's...
I used to see her everywhere,
I saw her in my girlfriends,
I saw her in the Nuns,
I saw her in a statue of holy-mary,
mother of God, sweet-jesus,
I saw her in everyone!
I thought she was an Angel
dressed in white on channel 3,
with Ed Sullivan introducing her,
"ladies and gentleman,
back from Moose-Jaw Saskatchewan,
Ron, Laurie and Jeff playing
a really gooot sheeew,
for your special entertainment,"
well you know how that all went.
I saw her in my wives
who fought to gain control,
who finally gave-up fighting
with that selfish bitch
that stole the show ya' know.
Maybe they were right,
she sold us kids for fame,
ran a band of salty men,
who tortured her for fun,
while traveling kanuk-country,
on the road called 'number-one'.
diabetes is eating-down into her Indian soul,
she can't get up, can't even roll,
nothin' can make her go,
doesn't want to know,
feels forgotten,
feels the song is ending,
feels that it's done,
feels it didn't go quite right,
                                  the dimming of the light,
                                              to hospital white...
still, I'll miss her when she's gone...
I'm ready with years of practice,
I'll have to try it out and see.
I'll sit selfishly by her bed-side and hold her close to me,
just to feel the warmth
            from the radiance
            in her tear-softened face,
just to hear a
        Cree crying song
        that she'd sing so emotionally ...
just in case she's full of grace,
                like the mother she wanted to be

10 May 14

Rated 10 (10) by 6 users.
Active (6): 10
Inactive (6): 8, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10

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i love this alch!
it's dear, and sweet and beautiful. "her indian soul" and 1-8 :)
 — mandolyn

I agree. Not many can pull this off about parents.
Wish I had written it.
 — unknown

repost with a new title?  either way, (still) excellent.
 — JKWeb

thanks manDEE unk and you're write JKWeb
 — AlchemiA

Read this the other day and it stuck with me.  Worth coming back to and probably one of the more fascinating writes I'll come across this year.
 — DeformedLion

thank-you DL for that feed-back -- it kinda sticks in the head and the throat ...
 — AlchemiA

Sheer, maternal beauty, Alch!  God Bless your MoM!!!  Love u, buddy.  :-)
 — starr

I'm not totally feeling the repetitions and the ultimately redemptive conclusion, but that may me inflicting my personal view rather than the poet.

There's some beautiful touches in this, and in some of the repetitions, but it becomes a bit white noise after a few lines.

I have to appreciate the love you have, though, which I lack for my Mother... and it's good to know it's real for some.

It's a good write and read, but I feel myself skipping over the bits that I don't understand, again it's a personal thing.

With love we can forgive almost anything, but without it ... everything stays exactly the same as it ever was.
 — jenn

may me  = may be me *
 — jenn

thankyou satrryMann -- jen, thanks so much for the detailed review -- yes, the repetition is a conceit really -- my brother and I were often moved around to different caretakers during the school year -- so the repetition is an echo of that process -- my love for MoM is not entirely without some grumbling complaints -- she was young and concerned with her career in a time when women were not universally accepted for that choice -- she made some heart-rending moves to facilitate this -- often putting my brother and I in risky situations -- I saw her everywhere because I longed to see her - missed her so much -- not seeing or hearing from her for months at a time while she ran the road called number one -- she was a musician and lived a lifestyle that is at once like a queen and often like a pauper -- even like a whore perhaps -- nevertheless, I love my MoM -- she made many selfish mistakes -- but who has not?
 — AlchemiA

I can easily forgive my Mother for being a crap human being of many mistakes made, but as a Mother who continued to perform in her same pattern ... but, then again perhaps I'm idealising the state of being a Mother ... the ultimate sacrificer of self for others.

The end brings a redemption I can't foresee in my situation, but it is your love that creates it ... your love can endure all the times of loss to forgive and mend.
I'm happy it is just so for you ;)
 — jenn

He loves his mother.
 — percocet

I know that the poetry critical seven are: jenn, Mandolyn, Alchemia, DeformedLion, Starr, Unknown, and me.  I am the antagonist, and I hope that I have helped in the form of the free verse poem written here.  This is a great poem AlchemiA, you should submit it to a publisher.
 — percocet

I think that the majority of people writing poems on this web page think that their post will make them famous, Like some a-hole woke up and finally figured out that rhyme rhymes with time.  Only the seven realize that this website is a practice ground, this website is a state where you fight your way from the bottom to the top, and you are ranked by your ability.  You have ascended the ranks with this, and I would love to read it on a printed piece of paper.    
 — percocet

And here it aloud.
 — percocet

"I am the antagonist"

No, percocet ... you are far from being 'the antagonist'.

You don't have the bile, anger, language or genius to be an antagonist.

You might imagine this is the role-play you are taking part in here, but to be absolutely honest with you ... you're far too boring to antagonise.

I've seen better agents of chaos. Far better. You barely register.
 — jenn

'I know that the poetry critical seven are:'

You do a disservice to the many unnamed poets here and some of the named who are great poets.

You are not included in their number.
 — jenn

Finally, if you want to discuss the merits of posting on this website please do it in the Forum, and not on someone's poem.

That's what the Forum is for. For discussion of subjects relating to or other than poetry.

Stop trolling peoples poems.
 — jenn

getting such a response from one of the seven, anti-antagonistically, from jenn - my mom.  Did you forget that you birthed me in your hippie days, Jenn?  Anyways, deconstruct this poem to help it face mass execution; help me, be raised by you, Jenn- This poem makes me want you to be my mother again.    
 — percocet

I am sorry for placing this wonderful poem on the top of the, "Recently Commented," List - Mom.  
 — percocet

wow ... you really are quite boring ...
 — jenn

You fish for comments that are fishing.  How about this one, Percocet, " I like how this poem fluctuates in the beginning, but I dislike the monotonous hymn of repetition in the middle sections- You can use the same word an exact amount of time, before repetition becomes repetitious.
 — percocet

Did you know that the majority of suicide bombers, in Iraq, killed themselves, and others, with the belief that their mother would be fine?  A lot of the VBIED's were born by a child's faith in the supposed fact that the war born children were helping their mothers?
 — percocet

mommy-dearest eh...
 — AlchemiA

Well written
 — eveola2313

  percocet -- whether here or there, in every dusk turning into shadow-less night, may love grow in the hearts of men and may believers learn to think again

eveola2313 thank-you for making this avatar just to vote an 8 with a well said moniker to boot -- it's a hoot 'cause 8 rhymes with masturbate :)

jenn again
 — AlchemiA

another-conflicted-kanuk-reads-mom --> http://goo.gl/k8c3Ul
 — AlchemiA

I'm sorry, but I cannot imagine turning the first page of, "The Times," and reading, " I love my mom."  To me, it's like reading Martin Luther Kings, " I have a Mom," speech.  
 — percocet

*"Martin Luther King Jr.'s, " I have a Mom."
 — percocet

percocet -- nature has a vivid imagination, nurture or not
 — AlchemiA

the purpose of poetry, is for you to spell out your love of your mother with vivid imagery and presence; it is not to say it so obviously, and especially not in the first verse.
 — percocet

Your first line is your thesis, and the rest of your poem is undone by your first verse.
 — percocet

In this situation, all that you had to say was," I love my mom."
 — percocet

Chapter two: " Billy also Loves His Mother."
 — percocet

Chapter Three- "People love there mothers."
 — percocet

Way to state the obvious with rhyme and rhythm.
 — percocet

It's so good it breaks my heart, to think of my mom.
 — Thornelius