Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Mother's Time (Poem)

A Mother's Time

It's a white-out
and suddenly all hands
go to ground

piles of flakes in the palms
get rolling
pushed around
till rounder
the snow becomes

ice cold, hard-muscled
against one more push
over.

Work. . . play. . .
building men:

They all take a mother's time.

© 2010 Maureen E. Doallas
________________________

Today at One Stop Poetry, Moondustwriter (a.k.a. Leslie Moon) issued a music poetry prompt, with a call for submissions inspired by one of two George Winston compositions: "December" or "The Snowman, Walking in the Air". I chose to write while listening to "The Snowman". 

Go here to read about the prompt, listen to the musical selections, find links to other contributors' poems, or offer a poem of your own.

We had snow today here in the Washington area, so the prompt could not have been more timely. Thank you, Leslie!

11 comments:

Kelly Sauer said...

Oh I like this one, Maureen! Very, very much!

Unknown said...

Great imagery!

Jenne' R. Andrews said...

Lovely, Maureen--pure and spontaneous. I cheated a little-- I'm already awash in the classical music of the season and had been working on something...xxxxj

* said...

"They all take a mother's time." This resonates with me, deeply. Thank you for it!!

moondustwriter said...

Lovely - I remember the days of building snowmen brrr

Thanks for writing a prompt

I love George Winston and it was the first time I had heard The Snowman - fell in love with it

S. Etole said...

building men ... it does take a mother's time ... time well spent

Anonymous said...

building snowmen
and building men
very time
consuming
and will melt
your heart

Unknown said...

Beautiful Maureen!

Louise Gallagher said...

Very very nice!

And filled with rich imagery -- just like your All Art Friday!

Thanks my friend.

Louise

Anonymous said...

sharp, penetrating, poignant

Kass said...

I think of all those moments spent with the children and at the time, I couldn't imagine there would be an end to the care-taking. But now they are such sweet memories. Your poem reflects this nicely.