Categories
Poetry

A Mother’s Love

I remember when I was a child,
being envious of my friends,
who would run home and tell Mom
about their day;
slamming the screen door
and the noise interrupting
the spring sound of awak’ning.
Standing in a warm kitchen,
apple pie baking and she,
with a whiff of flour on her cheek,
radiant with smile
as she listened to the story of the home run
that almost was.
Seeing me standing there on the breadth,
she flashed that smile of understanding,
and scolded us both for running so hard in the heat.
Then she sat us down
at a white pine tree kitchen table
to a treat of ice-cold milk and cake.
She, silently singing to herself,
today’s a treat to tomorrow’s desserts.
I knew she understood how I felt;
a small child so alone,
and she, another one’s mom,
with enough love left over
to treat me as her own.
Thanks Mom.

I remember often my foster home,
I being fortunate in my time.
Time sometimes spent searching
for another one’s love – you see,
I don’t have those childhood memories of a mother,
Mine left for the other side of the tree.
I only remember her
as seen in other kids’ eyes,
and I realize –
that mothers the world over,
are really all the same.
they love all children,
somehow never forgetting a child’s name, so –
thank you Mom,
every Mom,
everywhere.

Creative Commons License
This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

My Prayer

Lord, please don’t let me love again
I’ve done it much too often;
each time I end up with a pain
that words can never soften.
The last time really shattered me;
I’m not quite recovered yet.
Perhaps a hundred years or two
will help me to forget.
So please dear Lord because so much
has happened to me before,
don’t let me fall in love again.


Well… maybe just once more.

Creative Commons License
This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

Hot & Hazy

Every afternoon, I sit and sweat
and my breathing becomes heavy
My vision is misty
and I tell myself
So this is what hell feels like
I’m not too old
Just Old enough to remember
Never NEEDING
air conditioning
when It was only for the rich
and privileged and now
it’s only for those
who want to live
and breathe
We die in winter without heat
We die in summer without cooling
The A/C even died in heaven
the clouds slowly disappeared
Everything around is slowly dying
Burning up
And we need cooling to live
It sucks being this old
‘Cause I’m old enough to remember.

Creative Commons License
This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

It’s Hard

It’s lonely when I’m alone
and it’s hard to be alone;
it makes me crazy
and I start spinning
out of control.
It’s hard.
But it’s hard to not be alone,
to be with somebody;
it makes me crazy
and I start spinning
out of control.
It’s hard.
So if you ask me
is it you or me,
it’s probably not you;
I think it’s me.
It’s hard to be me.

Creative Commons License
This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.