More on Mother's Day

Ameena suggested I post this here:

MY MOTHER
for Gertie Louise (Rudolph) Workman (1912 – 2005)

she could do anything, my Mommy
Mom was The Original Recycler
back then it wasn’t fashion
we didn’t think about the planet
we didn’t plan it

her list of things
made from other things
would have been a best-seller
Mom could have been an artist
she made our lives her art

twelve kinds of Christmas cookies;
she drew bunny paw-prints for Easter morning
she made every item of clothing
from headgear to footwear
(except, possibly, underwear)

my Mom was une grande dame
make that one grand dame
just grand (as she would say)
but Mom was modest
and she wouldn’t want me to tell you . . .

Franci Louann flouann@telus.net February 20, 1995
(edited on Mother’s Day, 2005
& on Mother´s Day in Argentina! October 21, 2007)

Mother's Day: A Peace n' Justice Holiday

Many people think Mother's Day is a manufactured holiday invented by Hallmark, but it was actually founded by women activists to promote peace and justice. I've been really enjoying working on a campaign for a Canadian aid & development NGO where we made a short movie on the origins of the day. Ameena has graciously allowed me to post it even though it's not poetry. (Poetry in motion, perhaps? Hmm... now that's a stretch :-)

Hope you like it!
Sandy
HelloCoolWorld.com

In the Arms of Mothers: A Tribute to Mother's Day

gently
that life fell
from her soft,
wet warmth
sunflower
from rain-drenched
sky
that stretched roots
planted in a soil
sodden with her tears
from its successes
love
for each gold petal
unfurling in hands
reaching for this mother
whose arms curled loose
but steady
around it
rings of promise
that her life would be
forever for
her flower.
-ameena mayer

haikus from the fire

1
Now she lies armoured
in grey, her wet soil shaking
beneath pounds of tires

2
will pain soar away
crow with crooked wing, creaking
its way back to God?

3
loneliness and me
at tea, the crash of cups on plates
louder than atom bombs

4
when all life is, is
waiting for death, a leaf can
take ten years to fall

5
hope like party balloons
floats slow in white skies, what thick
hard hand released them?

6
silent memories
old carcass of a killed whale
hangs grey in moveless mind

7
you gutted me, but
no pain, just something heavy
like rock in my belly

8
grass shivers, due shakes
the fat, black spider enraged
I escaped half eaten

Fingers

To all the fingers
dangling keys
to large locked homes
grey and green
cars

clasping
the cutting plastic
of bank cards
and credit cards

weighed down
with wedding rings
pulling up washed,
white bedsheets

curling in cold prayer
for more whipped cream
weekend road trips

remember me
hobbling down
the alleyway
nothing as official
as all that
tying me to a life
remember my thinning
spine, faint
fingers
that reach
for nothing.
-ameena mayer