The Poet Mom

A blog about the joys and frustrations of being a mom.

Month: September, 2011

Keepin’ It Real

I thought I was a good person, then I had a child.

Every belief I hold dear is questioned.

Every action I take is closely examined.

Every trait I embody is reflected back to me.

Sometimes it makes me proud.

Sometimes it makes me cringe.

But always it makes me look inside and reflect,

On the person I am, the person he sees, and the person I want to be.


There is nowhere to hide from the innocent eyes of a child.

I no longer shrink from his penetrating gaze.

I embrace the lessons I am learning,

And realize we are raising each other.

Vestige of a Woman

The young woman who loved fearlessly, thought deeply and met life courageously

She now has a family and a virtuous career in homemaking.

She knows she is not the sum of dishes, laundry, chores and mothering.

She is buried but not yet dead.

She implores with every pot and pan washed, every shirt crisply ironed, each runny nose swiped. . .

See ME!  Know ME!  Respect ME!  Love ME!

Let ME free!

But her pleas are transient and evaporate quickly.

She is trapped by choice, restrained by propriety,

Buried by necessity with the loose change beneath the cushions.

But not yet dead.

This poem was written in one of those “moments” we all have.  (At least I hope we all have them.  Please tell me I’m not the only one!)  However, when I shared it with a friend, she reminded me in her very eloquent way that there are always two sides to the coin.  I don’t feel this poem is complete without her addition.

Even when you are in cammoflage,

in your cloak of cook, cleaner, tutor, supporter, enabler

Your powerful essence shines through.


Creator of life, creator of words that move,

Compassionate, smart, competitive

I am so glad to call you my friend.

A Pledge between Mothers

I will never criticize your parenting

Because my child will exhibit that same behavior tomorrow.


I will never mention that you’ve worn the same thing three days in a row

Because I have, too.


I will listen while you complain about your husband

Because I know you love him.


I will support every crazy idea you come up with

Because we have to dream.


I will love your children even when they are naughty

Because they are a part of you.


I will be your champion when you need me

Because I know you’ve got my back, too.


I will always be available for retail therapy.

Ode to the Bean

They are a mellow deep brown, not too dark but still brimming with richness.

The stove flame ignites.  It bursts to life.

The kettle sizzles and begins to warm.

The beans are ground in a flurry of shiny whirling blades.

The pure bubbling water releases the beans’ potential and fills the still kitchen with an awakening aroma.

The clock ticks on the wall.

My time is short.

Soon the house will stir.

My peaceful morning will slowly begin to hum and then quake.

There will be breakfasts and lunches to make, places to be, appointments to keep.

But for now it’s just me and the modest bean.