And God Created Mothers

God took a little sunshine, sprinkled it with dew...
Tore from the heavens a raindrop...
Added a star or two.
Snatched the unassuming innocence of a child...
And in an instant, created a Mother's smile.
On the canvas of the sky,
He gently dipped His brush...
With the colors taken from the rainbow,
painted a Mother's blush.
Plucked a flower ever so gently from a garden with care...
With the petals from a rose,
placed patience and understanding...
And the ability burdens to bear.
Took the stillness of the thunder,
blended it with the softness of a dove...
With precision and cunning, created a Mother's love.
With a dash of blue from the infinity of the sea,
placed in a Mother's heart, truth and humility.
Captured gold from Saturn's ring,
spun it with silver from a Shooting star...
Delicately placed it within a Mother's reach...
So for the luxury of her days,
she would not have to travel far.

And God looked at what He had made...
And He was ecstatically pleased, for in all creation there was
None as precious as these...

MOTHERS

(c) toya pitre All Rights Reserved

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Who Else, But A Mother?

Who first loves and nurtures us
and takes care of every need,
as she accepts into her life
someone new to bathe and feed?

Who brags about accomplishments;
first teeth...first sounds...first smile
and makes every little thing that's done
seem important and worthwhile?

Who's been known to, after dark
enter a room and slowly creep
to bend and kiss the forehead
of a child fast asleep?

Who holds a hand while crossing
as she thoughtfully conveys
a reminder to her child
that he should always "look both ways?"

Who wipes peanut butter off a cheek
and crayon off the wall
and knots an untied shoelace
to avoid a likely fall?

Who watches the swift passing
of childhood years that she will mourn,
and remembers every small detail
about the day that child was born?

Who works the longest hours
without a vacation...or a check,
but accepts her payment in the form
of a hug around her neck?

Who never stops believing
even when others are in doubt
and defends the fact her child was "safe"
when the umpire calls him out!?

Who senses things just aren't right
and with the palm of her hand decrees
by placing it on her child's brow...
the fever's 101 degrees?

Who shares life's disappointments
and feels the pain of all the bruises
and delights in her child's winnings,
but offers solace when he loses?

Who realizes as the years pass by...
the further her child will roam
and who stays up late with worry
when that child isn't home?

Who tries to shield and protect
by showing courage...staying strong;
trying to set a good example
while her heart is breaking all along?

Who acts as a private tutor
as the years fall in succession
by taking each opportunity
to teach life's every lesson?

Who listens with her heart
even when her child is grown
and understands the feelings
that she once herself, had known?

Who saved old cards and letters
and kept pictures on the shelves
and offered unconditional love
so we could learn to love, ourselves?

This poem describes one person;
a woman unlike any other,
for who could possess that level of love...
Who Else, But A Mother?

(c) 1998 Linda Ellis All Rights Reserved

Linda's Lyrics Personalized Poems

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What is a Mother?

Mothers look different from other women. Their hair isn't always done in the latest style, and sometimes, it isn't done at all.

A mother is a woman who can bake a cake with six other hands helping her and still have it turn out fine.

A mother's shoulders sometimes smells of sour milk, and if you are very observant, you'll notice safety pin holes in her clothes -- even her Sunday best.

Mother's frequently have runs in their stockings, likely as not, Junior didn't park his trike off the sidewalk.

A mother is different. She likes chicken wings and backs and the hamburger that is slightl y burned -- things the kids and Daddy don't care for. She never takes the last chop on the plate, and she always saves the candy from the tray at the club to bring home to the children.

A mother may not have ulcers, but she has versatile tears. They show anger, weariness, hurt or happiness. Once, when Daddy forgot an anniversary, Mother cried. One Saturday, he brought home some chocolates when it wasn't even her birthday or anything, and she cried then, too.

A mother is someone who can repair the kitchen sink with only her hands -- after Daddy spent alot of time trying with tools and plenty of cuss words.

When a mother dies, she must face Him with her record of accomplishments. If she's done a good job of caring for her children, she'll get the most sought-after position in heaven, that of rocking baby angels on soft white clouds and wiping their celestial tears with the corner of her apron.

(c) 1997 LadyJ All Rights Reserved

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