Friday, April 11, 2014


There is a woman close to me.
I've known her all my days.
She makes me raise my eyebrows
With her "interesting" ways.

Sometimes she is quite normal.
Many people call her friend.
She gets along with everyone;
Tries hard not to offend.

Her favorite food is chocolate.
She likes the color blue.
She has a love for animals.
To Jesus, she is true.

A writer of fine poetry.
Her verses often rhyme.
She likes iambic rhythm
In a syncopated time.

Her emotions overcome her
In a tender circumstance
She cries at sappy movies,
Loves to watch a good romance.

But not everything about her
is as perfect as can be.
With all her little quirks
She can drive you up a tree.

Odd faces, silly nick names,
Funny songs she loves to sing.
She talks too loud and much;
She can be embarrassing
And often she’ll confound you.
She’s as loony as a toon.
Her reason comes and goes
with the phases of the moon..

Wait a minute I’m confused;
A conundrum I can see.
Is the reflection in that mirror
Of my mother or of me?

National Poetry Writing Month, day 11

Prompt: Mother

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