how ever did I become grown
raised by mother most the time
dad to war when young
giving mom a hard time was not hard
a finicky eater
the only vocabulary "I don't wanna"
mom had the cure for all of that
a whack-whack here and a whack-whack there
a bruised bottom bared for the whole world's laughter
as I cried
then too the tenderness
that so easily flowed when I needed love
or a tear for the rip in my scuffed knees
she'd whisper her comfort
I'd close my eyes
then thank God for the lovely lady holding me
Author notes
prompt: my mothers melody.
A contest entry
- A differnt type of quickie. by Mango Memories.
400 points, ended October 31, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Bravo!
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Very nicely written indeed! I got paid to eat when I was little! Great take on the prompt, spans the emotions a child would feel and very nicely expressed!
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finicky eater
the only vocabulary "I don't wanna"
lol! my friend next to me can relate to this...very nicely done ...wonderful take on the prompt
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