poem: A Tribute in Violets

Hallmark doesn't make cards for my mother

A Tribute in Violets

And all those damn cards out there
would recognize you
only for cookies,
and hugs, and things you taught me

about kindness and warm fuzzy things.
As if.
Being a mom, the kind sanctioned
by Kincaide’s cloying paintings of goodness
defined your
boundaries in this world.
But I like to think
I can appreciate you too
as one woman to another, because-
let’s face it
none of this has been easy.
For either of us.
Like the broken winged birds
I brought home
and tended, so have we found
that daughters can be friends and mothers
can be confidantes.
That our respective worlds are as familiar
as childhood memories
and as different
as the changing face of
the shoreline where we used to go
every year;
with the sand the ponies and the
way you’d walk in the shadow of him, trying
to please.
I’m so glad you let the water
erase those tracks you left on that beach
and you struck out
and found one whose lighthouse
didn’t lead the traveler directly
into the battering rocks.

Thank you then, for being the kind of mom
who understands survival humor
and even knows
how to lob a few grenades at the
truly deserving.
You’ll never see that written in Hallmark, I assure you.
Thank God.
Because it means I have something
far better than the
lowest common denominator to call
home.
And maybe you didn’t realize it
but I’ve been watching
all these years
and taking in the you in my form;
understanding at last how I was shaped
by observing the way
they all come to you when they need healing.
Your door is always open
and the table is always set
with fresh flowers
AND
the damn floors are always clean
How the hell do you do it?
That’s one gene I fear I did not inherit.
Thank you for being the kind of woman I am proud
this Christmas
to say is my mom, the one who maybe
not so much as mothered me
as, in her wisdom,
simply understood me
and let me be who I needed to be.
Not holding my numerable mistakes against me
but rather, cultivating as well as you could,
what you found was best
in this wild meadow of a child
when you probably just wanted
a few carefully planted and tended violets

[Just let's hope not Kincaide's style]

Author's Note

for my mom for Christmas this year... because I can't find a card I actually like.
Her Christmas song is "Old City Bar" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, because she would be there making the ones in a bar feel like it really was a home if they had to be there for Christmas.

Violets are her favorite flower.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Marie,
It seems like I was around your age when I saw my Mom in a different light. All of the hopes, lessons she wished for me I deflected for years. Then one day I let them rain down on me. This is absolutely beautiful write for her. Your relationship has come into a new light and that in and of itself is a miracle.

Be sure to have some tissue handy, she will surely need them.
Merry Christmas to you and your Mum...

[Mauricio Montoya]

I'm touching base with my mother, I think this an awesome piece, great tribute.
Thank you for sharing.
Happy Holidays and good tidings to you and your family.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Mauricio... I am glad you enjoyed this, and best wishes to you and yours, as well

[GBU POETRY ONLY]

One word review: tenderlicious

[Jess]

That is, quite possibly, the most beautiful poem I've ever read, of yours or anyone else's! How did she react when she read it?

[LeeLee Ryder]

Great tribute to dear ole Mom... I love it that no card can do Momma justice.. She sounds like a mom who's there always ... Who you feel let you be you ... A great trait for a LOVING PARENT !!! I love the line.. "Not holding my numerable mistakes against me but rather, what you found was best in this wild meadow of a child",,
And yes, Kinky painter of light would definitely spoil the violet garden..
thanx for sharing
LeeLee

[LeeLee Ryder]

one word review: Violicious ...

[cest la vie]

One word review: Delightful

[Michael X]

wow, intently sentimental, in a light shade of abstract and a canvas of a beauty that defines endearing and spoken measure set to blossful interpretation, i love the way your words make the reader feel warm and right at home, the appreciative factor sweeps gentlely across the heart, like a ray of sunshine upon a winter's meadow grass.. you have a talented way with thoughts.

[Jada]

not THATS a christmas gift!

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Marie,

Beautiful. Not trite or cutesy as greeting cards usually are. This is a nice piece for your mother. I'm sure she'll enjoy it. But I wanted to pick up on one of your insightful themes, i.e., how much our appreciation for our parents changes are we grow older. Now, of course, not everyone has wonderful parents as I suspect your mom was (mine were, too), but still how much we now better understand their love and what they did for us as we grew older. We now see their humanity. We see their strengths and weaknesses. We see their struggles more clearly through our own struggles, and we come to know the type of effort and sacrifices that raising us really imposed.

This is a very open, insightful, and honest write. I have come to expect that from your pieces and that is why I keep coming back to read more.

Very best wishes for the holiday season and be sure to give your mom a big hug and a kiss.

Rick