Tweet
Yesterday it occured to me that I had nothing to offer my mother on mother's day. It also occured to me that I had very little money. I wrote my mother a poem and in light of the present holiday I will share that Poem with you. This is not a contest bid, this is a poem dedicated to my mother.
The Failure I offer my Mother
One would expect that from mother devoted
Would come a child, with virtue quite loaded;
And expectations cannot be hoped to be met
For the child of one more devoted yet.
Sadly, such a child am I,
And though again and again I may try;
The virtues I cannot hope to achieve
That would proper tribute to my mother leave.
What is there to give a woman so dedicated
To properly repay all the time she has traded
To have a son who ought to do better
Than I ever could, in act or in letter.
I am now humbled, and daunted by task
Of thanking a mother, who is all I could ask.
I am not equal to do such a thing
That would proper awe to my mother bring.
This is my poem, and my greatest failure,
My inability to properly thank her.
I simply cannot, in deed or in gift
Offer to her anything equal to what she has left
To me, and worked hard to provide.
No son could imagine to have such a pride
As he who may, in future extreme
Properly enshrine a mother, such as mine has been.
The words have yet to be imagined,
That could find such devotion upon them hanged.
In hopes of description of her utter greatness
I can offer nothing that might properly paint this
Only my failure, my failure extreme
To describe such a one as my Mother has been.
The Failure I offer my Mother
One would expect that from mother devoted
Would come a child, with virtue quite loaded;
And expectations cannot be hoped to be met
For the child of one more devoted yet.
Sadly, such a child am I,
And though again and again I may try;
The virtues I cannot hope to achieve
That would proper tribute to my mother leave.
What is there to give a woman so dedicated
To properly repay all the time she has traded
To have a son who ought to do better
Than I ever could, in act or in letter.
I am now humbled, and daunted by task
Of thanking a mother, who is all I could ask.
I am not equal to do such a thing
That would proper awe to my mother bring.
This is my poem, and my greatest failure,
My inability to properly thank her.
I simply cannot, in deed or in gift
Offer to her anything equal to what she has left
To me, and worked hard to provide.
No son could imagine to have such a pride
As he who may, in future extreme
Properly enshrine a mother, such as mine has been.
The words have yet to be imagined,
That could find such devotion upon them hanged.
In hopes of description of her utter greatness
I can offer nothing that might properly paint this
Only my failure, my failure extreme
To describe such a one as my Mother has been.
Comment