Sunday Mornings

10/29/13

 

 

Every Sunday morning, my mom wakes me up at three;

She knows how my alarm clock always disappoints me.

 

She irons my clothes and shines my shoes with care;

For a year and a half I have been wearing the same pair.

 

The smell of eggs and bacon leaks through the door;

Perfect breakfast just for me--what else to ask for?

 

She boils water and pours some into my morning bath;

She knows just how much I hate cold's aftermath.

 

I drift through my patterns like a predictable rhyme;

Her stares are comforting and daunting at the same time.

 

Before I leave the house, she hugs and kisses me;

Her scent is a mixture of cigarette and coffee.

 

Then she goes to bed like any tired woman would,

Sleeping with a smile for the gift of motherhood.

 

--------------------------

 

Three in the morning, I am awakened by a tap.

What I see next greeted me like a slap.

 

Neatly laid out on the desk is my Sunday dress.

Under the chair are shoes gleaming to impress.

 

Aroma of eggs and bacon fills the atmosphere.

I can hear the kettle whistling somewhere near.

 

I catch the feeling there's someone I cannot see.

Then the smell of cigarette and coffee has embraced me.

 

Sunday morning duties compelling her to stay.

My beloved mother died just yesterday...

 

Author's Note

Don't tell my mother I "killed" her in this poem. She might resign from her maternal tasks on Sunday mornings. :)

Reviews

[Dhaye]

You really recognize value of a thing when it's gone.
Before, you're like a princess every Sunday morning...which you have taken for granted because you're used to it. Now that she's not as strong as before, she resigned from that old routine, which now you really missed.
Why not do the same thing for her? Isn't it time to treat her like a queen even during Sunday mornings? LOL.

Another brilliant work from you, sis. I love couplets. Bravo!

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

I'll try that, Ate. Thank you so much. :)

[Richie]

Again a wonderful write. About killing your mother in this poem...this shows how much you have realised you need and appreciate your mother, how important she is to you.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

True. Thank you so much, Richie. :)

[aria]

I'm not sure how to take this. It seems very sweet on the surface but there are a few things that stand out: Why three in the morning? For me, that is the middle of my sleep. And why Sunday? Is the main character going off to church or a job or what? I thought at first it was the story of a woman who was bi-polar or something because the day of the week and the time are so odd. Also, how old is the main character supposed to be? Is this an adult being cared for by their mother before going to work? Most grown ups run their own baths and make food for themselves. The fact that this person finds it "comforting and daunting" indicates it could be an adult who feels uncomfortable about having her mom still hover and fuss so much but guiltily savors the fact that she is still being "babied". If this character is a child, maybe indicate that by saying something like "She irons my small clothes" or "and shines my tiny shoes with care;". Or better yet, "Since I was six (or 4 or 10 or 12 or whatever), I have been wearing the same pair." At any rate, nice write.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

I get up 3 a.m. every Sunday because we have to be really early in the 6 a.m. mass. The choir that I am in is a strict one, that's why. HAha, the speaker is in her teenage years, and obviously she's somewhat spoiled by her doting mother.

Thank you for sharing with me your thoughts, Aria. Your review is detailed and curious. Brilliant. :)

[Annie]

I love the line: "I drift through my patterns like a predictable rhyme". I like how your conveyed the comforts of routine when associated with someone that you care for unconditionally.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

That's my favorite line, Annie. Thank you so much. :)

[MsJewel]

A beautiful tribute to your mother and all mother's that care for their children with love. I'm so glad the ending is fiction! A lovely poem Blue.

:) Julie

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Thank you, Julie...

[cimmy wuv xxxooo]

haha so all this is true apart from your mums death haha i see :P
I loved it it all flows nicely, it rhymes beautifully, has such emotion and love in it.
I love the whole story line to it, and how even when shes gone, even though she isn't in real life haha, her spirt still does the same thing just like any other day.
Great poem much loved this one :)
I enjoyed it :)
Keep writing :)

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Thank you so much, Cimmy. I hope you are doing well in your life. :)

[cimmy wuv xxxooo]

life could be kind of better haha. and your very much welcome :)

[Tom]

A very nice poem about your Mom, so cosie and warm how you link all those pleasantries with her and I sincerely hope you are blessed with her loving care and devotion for many, many more years to come!

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Thank you, Tom! :)

[ayosonolowo]

Lol, well i gain a relief on hearing it was a frame work, nice poem.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Thank youuu. :)

[Mark Heathcote]

Nice poem well written thanks for sharing.

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Thank you so much, Mark. :)

[Rose of many colours]

Hey Blue don't take me on here will you. I just wanted to be naughty as you are..