Remember You

Five years ago today, my mother died. Every year, I write a poem for her to keep her memory alive.



Remember You

Who will remember me when I am gone?
Who will keep the flame alive?
As I remember you today,
My mother, my friend.

OctPoWriMo 27 - A Wild Rose

A Wild Rose

Petals of satin

Shades of white through magenta

I remember Mom

The fragrance of spring

Delicate blooms and sharp thorns

I remember Mom

Ev’ry year I’d bring

Her a wild rose from our yard

I remember Mom

OctPoWriMo 20 - Memories So Sweet

Today's prompt, Desires and Remembering, asked us to write about the last time we really, truly wanted something.

Memories So Sweet

I remember years ago it was such a treat
My favourite dessert
Sweet and fluffy cake with creamy frosting
So many years have passed
I saw it in the store
Memories came flooding back
But it was not the same
My tastebuds have changed
Such a disappointment

Thank You, Mom

I lost my mom four years ago;
I miss her still today.
When I think of her this time of year,
I remember…


The smell of fresh-baked bread;
Of apple pies and cookies;
An overdose of colour on the tree;
Mario, Bing, and Elvis sing carols on LP;
Soft and buttery shortbread,
Rolling out and cutting;
Stockings pinned along the couch for we had no fireplace
Filled with oranges, candies, toys, and chocolate,
A tiny house filled up with love;
Eight children crowding ‘round the tree,
Then turkey, mashed potatoes, and homemade apple pie.
We never had much money,
But Mom made Christmas special;
She showed me why she loved this time of year.
And, though I miss her sharply
And wish that she was here,
I am deeply grateful
For every memory.

June 12, 2016

Today she would be sixty-three.
On June 12th, 1953,
A baby girl was born, and she
Grew up, and she gave birth to me.

Today she would be sixty-three:
The one human who always loved me
From the very moment she
Learned my birth was to be.

I learned to love, I learned to be
The woman I was meant to be,
And she was very proud of me.
Today she would be sixty-three.

OctPoWriMo 25 - Toy Horse

Today's prompt asks us to remember our favourite toy from childhood. I had a horse my mom crocheted for me that went everywhere with me, fueling my imagination.

Toy Horse

His body made of yarn,
Stuffed with fibrefill;
His tail two strands of white—
The rest had fallen out.
Yet, in my mind he shone with pride,
Trotted, cantered, ‘cross the fields;
Mane and tail flowing free,
Head held high with pride.

OctPoWriMo 24 - Simple and Obvious

Today's prompt.

When I was a child, I thought I knew what I wanted;
Life was so simple and obvious.
Now I know
Nothing is easy,
Nothing is as it seems,
And I am still learning to understand myself.

Memories of Mother

Today, I am driving up north to where my mom lived. Tomorrow is a Celebration of Life memorial for her at the church she attended. I have been trying to write something to say about her, and this haiku was born.

Trying to write my
Memories of my mother
Tears blur my vision

Dust it Off Bloghop - Excerpt

Dust it Off Bloghop Day 2: Post your favorite excerpt from Ol' Shelvy. 300-350 word limit.


For day 1, click here.


This excerpt is only 221 words. I've always loved this scene; it's the second scene of Chapter 1. Here, Shua finds out who he really is and that he's not fully human.


~*~
A figure stood in the middle of the room. His hair was long and black and he wore a robe so white it glowed. Shua couldn't have guessed his age, although he was definitely not a child. He seemed old and young at the same time. "Shua," he said again. "Shua, my son."

"Who are you?" Shua whispered.

"My name is Arcanin."

Shua's eyes widened and he fell to his knees. "My Lord!"

Arcanin smiled and lifted the young man to his feet. "You know who I am." He sounded pleased.

"Of course! Merofin taught me of you and your Brothers. But I never thought I'd meet you!"

"This is not our first meeting, Shua," Arcanin said.

"What?"

"You were very young and cannot remember." Arcanin's blue eyes took on a faraway look and he smiled fondly. "I remember you were a very curious child, always exploring." He focused on the young man's face. "Shua, what do you remember of your childhood?"

"Very little," he admitted. "There was a woman who smelled like flowers - but I don't remember what she looked like."

"Your mother, Sha'Nya," Arcanin said quietly. "She was beautiful."

Shua was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "And my father? I remember nothing of him."

The Guardian put his hand on Shua's shoulder. "I am your father."