My
Mother is my precious rose
Whose
petals wrap around me,
Gone
are many of the hurts in life
When
she embraces me in bloom.
From
Eve’s garden she grew,
Plucked
by God’s own hand;
An
Angel in my loving eyes
Always
watching over me.
Charmed
with the brightest of colours
That
Mother Nature could nurture.
She
is a high beautiful rainbow
In
whose love I duly flourish.
The
sun will always shine on her,
Illuminating
her motherly beauty.
Such
beauty I hold aptly close,
Be
it so near or so far away.
Her
stem will always stand firm,
Supporting
me in times of need:
A
pillar of wonderful strength
Keeping
me always upright.
My
Mother is my nice, precious rose,
Whose
thorns do not prickle but protect:
Entwined
in her armour I face the world
To
fall at no ones’ feet but my own.
©
Andrew Stevenson 27/02/2017
An edited piece.
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.
Well, I wasn't going to respond to each poem, because I am so far behind; but, this is lovely, Andrew. I hope you won't take offense when I offer one possible change. I'd drop nice in the first line of the last stanza. I think the sentence line is stronger when you eliminate "nice," and when you do so, it repeats the opening line. Of course, you as a poet, may have another valid reason for including it. All the best!
ReplyDeleteGreetings Louise. I included nice to incorporate an even meter as that's what publishers like! Thank you for your input, it is warmly received. Blessings to you. Love love, Andrew.
DeleteI figured you had a good reason!
DeleteThis brought tears to my eyes Andrew, Oh to have someone think of me the way you love your mother. She must be proud of you.
ReplyDeleteYvonne.
Greetings Yvonne. I do so love my Mother so very much. Glad you liked the piece. Blessings to you. Love love, Andrew.
Delete