huong1952

[huong1952]

This is for the Mother's - By Stephen Hyer

This is for the mothers that gave up their life for another,

The mothers that gave birth to a sister or a brother,

And were forced to raise them without their lover.

But did whatever it took just to be their mother.

. 

This is for the mothers that gave birth but never got to meet their child.

The mothers who lost their children when the divorce was filed,

But took the extra mile to make their children’s lives worthwhile.

 .

The mothers who made a mistake,

But stood strong for their children’s sake.

The mothers who stayed awake,

When their children went out a little too late.

 .

This is for the mothers who cried tears

For years;

Because they turned around for one second,

But looked back to see that their children had disappeared.

For the mothers who lived through the greatest fear,

As their kids got in the car,

After drinking a few too many beers.

Which didn’t seem like many,

But it was enough to not be able to steer.

 .

This is for the mothers, who made the decision to end their own life,

When the doctor looked at them with the incision knife,

And was forced to tell them that their child will live

But their husband will lose a wife.

 .

This is for the mothers that gave their children the freedom to roam,

And although they were set on their own,

They were never really alone,

Because a mother always knows,

A mother always knows.

 .

This is for the mothers, who couldn’t make up their mind,

And they prayed and prayed for a sign,

That could help them find,

A way to get their children’s behavior realigned.

 .

For the mothers that cried during a marriage separation,

But continued to push their children through their education,

Giving their children a foundation to build economic and social relations.

 .

The mothers who needed someone to help them succeed,

The mothers who reached for support when their children were in need.

The mothers who took the initiative to take the lead,

When the father figure was no where to be seen.

 .

This is for the mothers, who lost their lover over seas,

The mothers who lost their children to disease.

The mothers who were able to do it with ease,

And the mothers who had to buckle at the knees,

And push harder each week,

To make ends meet.

 .

This is for the mothers that I missed,

That didn’t fit a specific category on this list,

The mothers that needed something like this,

In order for them to realize they deserve eternal bliss.

 .

Every mother deserves something special today,

Along with the other 364 that came along the way,

So without further ado, 

There is one thing that we all need to say,

To at least one strong woman,

Who needs this happy Mother’s Day.

 .

Happy Mother’s Day.

#stephen hyer #mother's day poems #mother’s day

[huong1952]

“With practice, we can see that our wounded child is not only us. Our wounded child may represent several generations. Our mother may have suffered throughout her life. Our father may have suffered. Perhaps our parents weren’t able to look after the wounded child in themselves. So when we’re embracing the wounded child in us, we are embracing all the wounded child in our past generations. This practice is not a practice for ourselves alone, but for numberless generations of ancestors and descendants.”

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Artwork by Christian Schloe

#thich nhat hanh #christian schloe #ancestors alive! #mother #child #wounded child #life #love #ancestors

[huong1952]

...it was not my lips that you kissed, it was my soul...

#the painted chateau #art #beauty #love #romance #soul #kiss #her eyes #artist’s name not mentioned

[huong1952]

..."let's ride this journey together as poets, writers, artistes and muses"...

~Avijeet Das

#the painted chateau #alice in wonderland #inspired life #journey #art

[huong1952]

#soundscapenet #portrait #watercolor #aquarelle #girl #necklaces #green eyes

[huong1952]

#hortensia #hydrangea #ortensia #watercolor #acquarello #aquarelle #smell #flower #blu #bleu #blue https://www.instagram.com/p/CfovEvTvo0v/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#soundscapenet #hydrangea #hortensia #watercolor #aquarelle #flower #blue #girl #eyes

[huong1952]

…each day you get a small thing right. Each day something forgotten or unsaid or just missed.

Joanna Klink, from Portrait in summer 

from here

#joanna klink #contremineur #the night field #unsaid #forgotten #missed #only a small thing right #that’s ok

[huong1952]

#mirrorsinner #contremineur #flowers #leaves #small white flowers #dark background

[huong1952]

There are many ways to understand the word lost, my love. When you were born, the last Pyrenean ibex, a tawny female named Celia, had not yet lived to see the view from Torla overlooking Monte Perdido, but her great- grandsire stood on the cliffs of Ordesa, positioned on hoof-tips dainty as dimes, and he shook his impregnable skull, a coffer of brass and nobility crowned with bayonets, as though in defiance of all who dwelt in the highlands from Catalonia to Aquitaine. Their kind is vanished now. Forever lost. Perdido. And when you dressed in a Girl Guide’s uniform of Persian blue on Tuesday nights, my love, in the long-lost basement of Grace United Church, to play indoor baseball and make believe that faerie magic could make you rich or important or happy, pods of baiji dolphins still swam in a river you’d never heard of and would not think about until years later, when together we would learn from the evening news that the baiji were lost, at last, from the Yangtze, and in their place there came a universal emptiness. There are many ways to understand the word lost, but it does not help to imagine a secret place where lost things go. When last I held you in my arms, my love, the West African black rhinoceros was still magnificent and still alive, but now the gentleness of your breath on my bare neck is as lost as the dusty, confident snort of that once breath-taking beast. Great strength is no protection, and neither is love. We are born, and our births are lost. We can’t go back to them. Each embrace ends with an ending. When we become, what we once thought we’d be is lost. We keep becoming.

Paul Vermeersch, Lost things

from here – thank you, poet-locker (lost since December 2015)

#paul vermeersch #contremineur #lost #loss #great strength is no protection and neither is love #lost things #becoming #life

[huong1952]

Artist: Maja Krstic

* * * *

“To love or to have loved, That is enough, Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found In the dark folds of life”

-Victor Hugo, from Les Miserables

[Jim Fagiolo]

#victor hugo #maja krstic #les miserables #dreaminginthedeepsouth #love #together #life #pearl

[huong1952]

#mariabeatrizmalta #portrait #woman #soft #her hair #face #arms #hands #light and shadow #artful

[huong1952]

#purple sky #blue dusk #window #balcony #where is us #where is love #with you once #no longer

[huong1952]

‘The path isn’t a straight line; it’s a spiral. You continually come back to things you thought you understood and see deeper truths.’ -Barry H. Gillespie

#barry h gillespie #ksjanes #spirals #path #deeper #truths

[huong1952]

“I have no place left to live but in my own heart.” -Anne Enright

#anne enright #mythologyofblue #heart #in my own heart #life #ending

[huong1952]

“This poem is the poem about how I lost you before I even had you.”

— Karese Burrows, from “After We Kissed,” L'Éphémère Review (no. II, November/December 2017)

#karese burrows #memoryslandscape #contremineur #after we kissed #love lines #memory #poem #love #lost

[huong1952]

#ishikorokoroishi #contremineur #memoryslandscape #stonelantern #lost friends #flowers #pink #fading

[huong1952]

How little we know, in the end. That a boat can stall at the edge of the sea, until it is

overturned, at last, by what it loves most. That love is the fortress with no walls

and winding gardens. That time gnaws us down to a new bone, then to pure spirit.

And that grief is a kind of church—it is that sparse and that clean. It is the blue rose

held in the clear water of the mind,

Cecilia Llompart, opening lines to “Abuelo,” Gulf Coast: A Journal of Literature and Fine Arts (vol. 28, no. 1, Winter/Spring 2016)

#cecilia llompart #memoryslandscape #contremineur #love #sea #edge of sea #metaphor #grief #fortress #wall #garden #grief is a kind of church #abuelo #blue rose