Three Mothers


Mother of a son, she raised him on her knees.

Holding him up in her prayers and love.

A Bible, passages inked, she gave him.

Prodigal he turned, and the Bible

he pawned for copper pennies.

Years later, though it came

home to his hands and

into his heart her

loving words

were at last

read and

he was



True story, check it out here:



Mothers Day! Mothers Day!

Walk the sick mare, get water.

Special breakfast, perfect!

Did she have the kittens yet?

Let’s play Mama! Let’s play!

Feed the dogs, check the cows.

Small hands present dandelions.

Honey have you seen my….

Mama, aren’t you a Mama every day?

What kind of birds are those?

Yes buddy, I am a Mama all the time.

Can you read to me? Can we play?

Oh how I love this perfect Mothers’ Day!



Bittersweet these hard Mother’s Days.

With those who choose to be far away.

With those who are just softy fading.

Will they remember us ever again?

Daughters loyal, even in distance

and in pain, we too are mothers.

The hurt of choices and decay

taking something so special away.


Dear Lord be with us all, on this and all days.

Mothers and mothering ones near and far.


For Real Toads and for all Mama’s

Visit here for another Mother’s Day poem:


Breathing time


Busy boys working hard at school.

Busy Mama’s working at theirs too.

Daddy’s gone and coming home soon.


Busy boys making noise playing hard.

Busy Mama’s making soup, bread and buns.

Daddy’s driving in the lane – home again.


Busy boys, big one and small one too.

Busy Mama, just one, listens to the chaos.

Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!


Time for a break Mama. 

Time for some breathing time.

They leave the house empty.

Their noise follows them out.


She sits. Knowing the list.

She sits. Breathing the silence.

She closes her eyes. It is quiet.

She lets her shoulders relax.


Busy boy and busy Daddy back in again.

Wondering what busy Mama did.

Mama breathed the quiet, that’s what she did.