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Click hereA Mother
The first time i heard your cry
The sweetest melody to my ear
The first step you took
How proud i stood
Your first words
Sweeter than honey
How grown up you are
Standing tall
Standing proud
Then the news came
You were arrested for drugs
I bowed my head in shame
Thinking where did i go wrong
Not realising
It was never my choice to make
What i have taught you
And what you have learned
Combined you made the choice
To live your own life
All that I am
And all I can ever be
Is a Mother
Praying for her child.
As I was reading this poem I was thinking about my favorite childhood book, ‘Love You Forever’ about a mother whom always loves her child uncondesonally, no matter what that child did growing up. And I think that is what all mothers should be. And not whores or drug addicts.
From your poem "Stolen"<br>
<br>
<i>The sounds of your cries<br>
When you were born<br>
Was the sweetest melody in my ears</i><br><br>
Thus, particularly because I so much appreciated the poem "Stolen", when I read the opening stanza of this new poem, I was immediately distracted by the similarity. On the one hand, I can appreciate just how powerful a tug at your heart and soul is your newborn's cry, on the other hand, cliché is the death of good poetry.<br><br>
<i>Your first words<br>
Sweeter than honey</i><br><br>
These lines are clear in meaning but the comparison is so clichéd that my minds glides tritely over the lines, unmoved. The poem deals with such numbing sadness and focuses on the immensity of the betrayal of parental pride. Clearly Life has been ruthless in testing you at every opportunity and you have evolved a response which is mature instead of the far easier response of bitterness. That is good. However, your poems need more work. Having used, "the sweetest melody in my ears," you have to find a new way of describing what is a vivid experience for you. Naturally, you have to find your own voice, but I offer an option to that phenomena of the first cry at birth from a father rather than a mother, simply by way of illustration:<br><br>
Born, finally, into an eternal moment of silence.<br>
Your first cry pierced the wall of anxiety<br>
that held me rigid and confused,<br>
released the flood of devotion<br>
that poured from my grateful heart<br><br>
I'm not suggesting that I'm writing great poetry here, but simply illustrating an alternate way of describing the sweetest melody in my ears on that night when my child was born.<br><br>
I hope this is useful for you.<br>