Storymania - My Mother, My Word by Lovette D Carter

My Mother, My Word - Collection
Lovette D Carter

My Mother, My Word

What can I give you, since you are not here,
You are missed so much, the one most dear,
You brought life to me, raised me, taught me what's right,
With insight and love, you lead my path to the light

I feel lost, as a child, I wish you were here,
On my knees I pray, for courage, not fear,
To walk in good Spirit, You ... RIGHT at my side,
With GOD as my LIGHT and Faith on the other side

What can I give back, since you not are here
My time, Oh memories and ways of good cheer,
That will last a lifetime, it's the best I can do,
If I do quite well, then again, I'll see you

It IS God, it was trees, it was flowers, family ties,
And stories, and walks and country fireflies
It was the birds, your music, that made my life best,
And a busy mother as you, who can now, peacefully rest

My whole life, I'll miss you, I'll try not to be sad,
Because God has given me one of the finest Moms one's had,
You, mother, I'll praise for the rest of my life,
Who walked tall in life's battles and never sought strife

The one who informed me, "Get up when you fall down."
The one would showed me, No cross, no Crown,
I'll give you my word, I'll do my best, right here,
Take one day at a time, and two steps with good cheer

Not Their Own

Through dappled light and shaded trees,
Birds chirp with summer's breeze .
While perched on splintered life with ease,
Life is not their own.

Yet free they fly, to pierce the sky,
Soaring, floating to life on high,
Descending, landing to man and bird's eye
Yet life is not their own.

By song or dance, graciously
They praise on high magnificently
Their choice is more than what man hears or sees
Life is not their own.

As height is measured by what one does,
Eagles rise as well as the mourning dove,
Heavenly, moving by the grace of God's love
Their life is not their own.

If birds and angels have such wings,
Courage and hope should have some things
To use what God gives and brings
Our lives are not our own.

Childhood

I'd love to be a home
Where family first began,
Those memories, a crystal dome,
With long plaits and skinny legs that ran

Where double-Dutch was hard to lose,
Marble steps were scrubbed with Ajax,
Tender skin, easily bruised,
By metal skates clamped to the max

I'd love to be at home
Where Mom would yell or call out my name,
Where bicycle and I secretively roamed,
With neither it nor I taking the blame

Ah, where night stories we narrated by Mom
Where older sisters were not that bad
For trading their ten pennies for my one dime
Telling me, it's the same as I once upon had

Playing jacks and getting the rhythm with our hands,
Records of Cool Jerk and Heat Wave,
Snapping thin fingers to Dick Clark's Bandstand,
Memories, the good, ole days

I've no one to accuse in my adulthood,
When my knee-high socks disappear
As I ponder, if I should be pleased about it,
Or shed a many of tear

Should I forget the falls I often took,
Should I forget my dear childhood,
Never could I find quite a book
To recapture the way memory should

The Rose

It opens up and displays its illustrious beauty

Perhaps the rose is not enough, to just see
The thorns that prick, seldom injure

When the candle nearby, has melted down,
When the wick has burned its entirety,
When the walls cast its last shadow,

Perhaps the rose is not enough, to just see
It is the fragrance of it, which lingers on
Into the night
The rose

We Enter

We enter into this life,
Forthwith receiving
Victories and strife
Little and large unbeknown,
We soon realize our lives
Are not our own

How easy victories would be,
To rid ourselves from trouble
So effortlessly
Should a challenge in life
Be confronted,
Needless to say, not
Quite wanted

As people and situations arise,
Bringing challenges, or assistance
To surprise,
The weak is better to smile,
Then the strong, to frown
The first mile

The face with a smile or frown,
Is carried with the cross
To the crown
>From acuity to blindness
Shall be shown,
Their lives are not their own

Our goals, our plans
Can be sought,
Yet with earned effort
A few can be bought

The ultimate challenge
In this life:
Carry the cross,
The smile, during strife

Part One

As words and deeds are performed in life,
Through sheer curtains we set the stage
Each one partakes a role to play
As work, we also engage

In time, the final curtain will be drawn
Yet, up will rise the adage,
It ain't over until the fat lady sings
Then she will walk upon the stage