This is for my mum

[girl friend]

To my mum.

Your guidance and love created,

all that I am today.

I love you forever and ever, I always will.

 

 

This is for my mum

 

On her Christening, she got cards, saying ‘congratulations.’

And she slept peacefully, and smelled clean.

And she grew and grew, and thrived to be,

And on her First Birthday, she got cards,

Which her mother softly read to her.

And was showered in presents,

so that she didn’t know what to look at first.

And she started to walk, but only when she alone chose to.

And 7months later Santa came, and then started to talk, to ask,

when he was going to come again.

And then it was her Second Birthday,

And she smelled of sugar.

 

And so the Birthdays kept coming,

And her childhood was a blur of happy memories.

Some comical.

Some daft.

Some highly intellectual.

Some conceivably frustrating.

As she passed through Piaget’s stages.

All eminently personal however.

She discovered the world,

As it discovered her.

She became bold, and nurtured and secure,

In her mother’s arms,

She learned the most important lessons of life.

She learned to love knowledge.

And to strive for greatness

She learned the joys of having a family.

And she learned to be happy in herself.

And she loved her mother’s attention.

And she loved her mum.

 

And she had a great father.

With strong arms, that swung her round.

Until she got too big.

And who took her for endless walks, and bicycle rides.

To parks, and ponds,

and fields filled with sweet smelling ponies.

And so she came to love nature.

And to find peacefulness.

And inspiration.

Which she would come to draw on in later life.

And so she learned to be happy in herself.

She came to love nature.

And she started to read early on.

And the books took her to new places.

And she became a dreamer.

And she loved the animals.

And she loved her dad.

And then she started school.

And remembers a blur of nursery, merged with first-grade.

The PE lessons in the park.

Mrs O’Grady’s pet rabbits.

The colour yellow.

The chickens and goats in the playground.

Becoming a thinker.

And perhaps the hardest lesson of all.

Learning that mummy didn’t know everything.

 

And then she was seven.

With long golden dresses, and startling blue eyes

And grazed knees, and always a little bit muddy.

And one day she got washed up proper.

It was First Holy Communion.

And the kids got their first taste of the blessed sacrament.

And laughed at the cardboard taste.

And she noticed the boys were cool.

And wanted them to like her best.

And she learned elocution,

And how to swim like a Little Mermaid.

 

And then she left the small playground,

With its fake grass, and chickens.

And went to school in a castle.

Even though she didn’t know

Where Corrination Street was,

or who the Eastenders were.

And that school was full of big boys and girls.

With a gate, and a draw bridge.

And a pill box, and an air raid shelter.

And a swimming pool, and millions of fields.

And lots and lots and lots of girls.

And she didn’t know how to be cool.

But she already knew how to work.

And the kids taught her things,

That they should have been too young to know.

And she always gave 110%.

And never played with the street kids.

 

And she learned that the universe is science.

And that monkey came first.

And she went to Church every Sunday.

As well as swimming.

Tap and jazz were on Saturdays.

And music on Tuesdays.

But the teacher took ‘The Snowman’ away from her,

And made her cry.

And she tried gymnastics, elecocution, keyboard, violin,

and later on electric guitar.

But it was the horse-riding she really loved.

 

And then she went to the senior school.

With big windy corridors, and hidden rooms.

And a haunted library,

at the school’s highest point.

And she made friends.

And learned the challenge of Jesus

And how hard it is to:

‘Love thy enemies.’

And she always had lots of homework

And a horse broke her arm.

And then came her Confirmation Day.

Which she wanted to do.

And she promised to try to be a good Christian,

Not knowing where it would take her.

And she always gave 110%,

And got mad when others didn’t do so.

 

And then she got hurt at school,

By some screwed up kids.

But her mother was always there.

And maybe it made her stronger.

Maybe it made her gentler.

Maybe just maybe

It made her the woman she is today.

And then she left school, and went to college.

And was happy there.

And her mother decided to come back to work,

Which her child initially begrudged,

And later loved.

And she really was happy there.

Truly truly happy.

And learned how to be a friend.

And through one amazing teacher,

Who encouraged her love of Psychology,

She met Freud,

And loved to hear what the old master said.

And hoped that psychoanalysis was her calling.

And that one day she should help kids,

Like the ones that used to hurt her.

 

And that college still holdss,

Some of her fondest memories,

And she learned about the meaning of friendship,

And about the meaning of life.

And the thinks she made her mother proud.

And her father too.

And she grew up a lot there,

And learned to look to the sky.

And that life is sent to test you.

And rough times come,

But they go too.

And she knew that life is good.

And so she allowed herself to be led,

Slowly into womanhood.

But held on to ‘The Playfulness of Life’

One of life’s greatest virtues.

And she worked at a theme park

And loved children.

And loved to laugh.

And vowed always to live life to the full.

And to make her mother proud.

And it was about this time, that she really began to write.

And her dreams gave her material.

And nature shaped.

And God supported her.

And she praised her parents for her faith,

The greatest gift of all

 

And then she flew the nest.

And went off to University.

But she missed her home.

And learned that you home,

Is not where you have fun,

But truly where the heart is.

And so she became a psychologist.

And explored her entire life.

And found well balanced mentality

All due to the care of her parents.

In her earliest years.

And she was glad, she had always been loved.

And it had made her the woman you see today.

And it was about this time,

That she became a listener.

And looked forward to being a psychologist.

And about this time that she learned,

That a thinker is never off duty.

And she missed her mum

And her dad

But longed to make them proud.

 

And so the child,

became a confident young woman.

Self-actualised, confident, sensitive, beautiful,

And spoke of her parents with love and respect.

And hoped one day,

To be just like them.

 

“We learn to love, not by being told, or taught,

But by being loved ourselves.”

[JadedStar]

That is so beautiful!

 

All of those sentiments are the very things a mom hopes her daughter or son feels as they grow up.

 

I like to think my kids think that of me ... i hope so. I am fairly sure I am one of their biggest heros.

[AnotherBrokenDoll]

Thats really beautiful I think your mother should be proud of you to

[girl friend]

Its almost sad that you guys like it, yet the person who should really read it, probably never will.

[AnotherBrokenDoll]

Why not hun?

[girl friend]

I'd be 2 nervus to show it to her lol. Sounds silly i know. I can sorta imagine her reading it with a red pen, correcting the grammar like she used to when i was a little kid. Or not liking it or something. Conditioned by the past lol. Maybe i'll show it her one day. I wrote it for her.

[Boughs]

I seriously... had an amazing 10 minutes reading that. I took in each word and enjoyed every bit of it. All the memories were... amazing, the piecing together of it all and everything.

 

Really such a great rollercoaster ride of thoughts. Love it.

[girl friend]

Thank you Broughs.

 

The memories thing is a technique called 'schemata.'

It creates vivid imagery as each person personally relates it to them.

 

I bet it would be even more great for my mum herself.

[girl friend]

My mum loved it. SHe said:

 

''I read your poem, its very good.

Anyway just one thing about your verse - you hope to make us proud! Well you have done that since the day you were born, just by being alive makes us proud to have such an amazing child who has made us laugh and made us cry all her life, we have watched you grow into an amazing young women and you never need to try to make us proud because we are as proud now as we will ever be. We luv you to bits. Mum''

 

Happy ending huh?

[AnotherBrokenDoll]

I'm glad you got up the courage to show her. Thats really sweet

[girl friend]

Thank you Rozi!

You reckon its true that we'll never know how much our parents loved us until we have kids of our own

[girl friend]

I wrote that a long time ago now, it helps to look back on what i was going through at the time to analyse those feelings, and that time of my life. Like this verse:

 

"She learned that the universe is science

and that monkey came first

and she went to Church every Sunday''

 

It seems to show the conflict i was going through as a young girl trying to find my place in the world.

I still am i suppose.

 

girl friend

[Jeen]

It is really lovely.

 

We evolve everyday that is what makes as human and gives as a purpose in life.

 

Thanks.

 

"Cardboard I do agree"

[girl friend]

"Cardboard I do agree"

 

Lmao! *giggles* it seems so incorrect to say that now i'm not a kid! But i remember how funny it was that day, aged 7.

[Jeen]

Well I still think it taste like cardboard. *giggles*