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~ Linda R Davis, Raven of Peace & Poetry

Bits of Poetry

Tag Archives: Mothers

Ashes to Ashes (Song)

01 Wednesday Mar 2023

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Addiction, Children, Death, Death Poems, Dying, Family, Fear, Loss, Love, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, song, Song of Sorrow and Joy, Souls

Ashes to ashes

She wrote with a brush,

A tattoo needle,

And dust to dust.

From this life to that

We pass,

We’re crushed,

Ashes to ashes,

And dust to dust

—

Heart to heart,

When we were young,

Living to music,

Song to song,

Love to love,

Our mutual need,

To cling together

And never leave.

—

Chorus:

Cuz we’re ashes to to ashes,

And dust to dust,

From this life to that

We pass, we’re crushed,

We burn, we rage,

We laugh, we trust,

Then we’re ashes to ashes,

And dust to dust.

—-

The limits of us

Were all too near;

The fire it burned,

But the end was clear.

The mistakes I made

Still bring me to tears:

The words unsaid,

And the realized fears—

—

Chorus:

Cuz we’re ashes to to ashes

And dust to dust,

From this life to that

We pass, we’re crushed,

We burn, we rage,

We laugh, we trust,

Then we’re ashes to ashes,

And dust to dust.

—

The needle it tore,

It bled, it ripped;

But the dye was cast,

And the words inscrib’d,

And my arm it burned

With the words I asked:

The dye, the needle,

All, mixed with his ash.

—

Chorus:

Yes, we’re ashes to to ashes,

And dust to dust,

From this life to that,

We pass, we’re crushed,

We burn, we rage,

We laugh, we trust,

Then we’re ashes to ashes,

And dust to dust.

Love Letters

04 Thursday Aug 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Afterlife, Death, Death Poems, Fathers, Forgiveness, Hope, Letters, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Love Letters, Love Poems, Lovers, Memory, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Soul, Souls, Spirit, Survival

Whisper me a tale of lovers,

Through limbs of trees and years,

Rattle a leaf, turn a page,

Rifle through an abandoned dresser.

You will find them there among socks,

With no feet left to cover.

The body is taken away,

Yet, rises again in pen.

She recognizes the scrawl,

It is as much him as him,

And hymn to her hurting heart.

You realize love too late,

She thinks, beyond the day-to-day

Bicker and fuss, we lost us-–

She sees her lover now,

In what is left undone–

The many things he touched

And with his touch, flourished,

They wilt now that he’s gone.

Yet, in her hands,

She holds his scribbled words:

Nineteen sixty three, nineteen sixty four–

And, it all comes back to her.

What Was Lost in the Trade

15 Sunday May 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Children, Division, Divorce, Family, Hate, Healing, Life, Longing, Loss, Love, Love Poems, Marriage, Memory, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sacred, Self, Souls, Women's Poems, Yearning

The push, and pull, of memory,

When you left me I got sadness, despair,

When I left you, I got amnesia.

Be careful what you forget,

Memories, hostage to one another,

Shoved into the abyss, together they go,

What was beautiful, too,

The joy of holding his babies at my breasts,

The sound of love in first words;

Hope, like a childhood dream,

You’re embarrassed you believed.

And now, no plumbing the hole

With dirty hands, arms not long enough

To reach what was so easily given away;

(The hurt was not traded for living,

As I’d hoped,) no, I want them all back,

Though they bring you, with the sadness, too.

Toward Our Once Bright Existence

03 Thursday Feb 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Afterlife, Aging, Beauty, Belief, Children, Death, Dying, Eternity, Family, Gratitude, Hope, Life, Loss, Love, Memory, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Soul, Souls, Spirit, Spirits

In the end, we don’t know

How the end will come,

Peaceful, as we sleep,

Or, under the thumb

Of morphine. Memories,

Like flotsam, from the depths

Of our once bright existence,

Form a tunnel toward our exit,

Each day, one step closer,

Almost touching what was lost:

mother, child, father.

The Difficulty Getting Here

24 Saturday Apr 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Children, Courage, Death, Family, Forgiveness, Generations, Hope, Life, Love, Marriage, Mothers, New Collection, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Strength, Survival, Women's Poems, Yearning

It’s a wonder I’m here, progeny of lost souls,

orphans, abandoned wives, poverty & places

so uninhabitable, unsustainable—

Yet, I’m here, and the generations beyond me

refuse to wither, too.

When the earth begins to close,

there’s always just enough left

to sustain us. One small patch of grass,

free of weeds, or drought,

and just enough blue sky and sun.

We find that place, and stay long enough

to drag another survivor on.

When She Was Young: Song of the Lotus

04 Tuesday Jun 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Addiction, Daughters, Flowers, Healing, Hope, Loss, Lotus, Love, Mother Poems, Mothers, Odyssey, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Promises

“The lotus, which was so delicious that those who ate of it left off caring about home, and did not even want to go back and say what had happened to them.”
The Odyssey Book IX

Promises, she heard them all,
the call of her mother’s voice,
she wanted to believe:
This won’t happen again, baby.
Maybe, it was okay to trust
for a while, and rise, like a lotus blossom,
above the mud of her addiction,
floating with petals stretched up to the sun.
Somewhere, she thought,
there is a story of a girl whose love could cure,
and pour itself out as an ethereal blanket,
so magical, together at last,
even their bones would long
to float away in the lotus’ song.

New Soul

12 Friday Apr 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Birth, Brook, Children, Courage, Fear of Death, First Born, Freedom, Gratitude, Happiness, Hope, Life, Love, Mothers, New Soul, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Son, Soul, Souls, Spirit, Spirits, Strength, Yearning

Some, come into the world as old souls,
like they’ve been here a hundred times,
a bit weary, wise, or jaded, made cautious
by pain & an understanding of human hearts.
But not my son, whose eyes saw the earth
as if he, and it, were just created.

Yes, from first breath he was a wanderer,
like his father in his lust for the world,
possibilities stretched out before him,
no person stranger, no place strange,
a modern day viking making his way
across an infinite, angry sea, with no map.

Unless, music is a map. Song after song,
his heart in waves of hard-plucked strings.
He sang loud, and I wondered how
he could pour himself out in front of crowds.
I see him, even now, upon the ocean,
his wooden ship, the waves, the sails.

Memory In Winter

09 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Aging, Azaleas, Children, Death, Flowers, hydrangeas, Life, Lilies, Love, Memory, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Winter, Winter poem

Winter returned, unbroken,

and I bought azaleas, hydrangeas

and stems of lilies

to stand against white windows.

How like memories,

these flowers in winter:

smiles, laughter, love,

eyes, cheeks, toes, and fingers.

Mama, mama, mama,

I hear them calling,

as I cut their stems.

If Snow Could Form Into Tree

24 Saturday Feb 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

aspen, Aspen Colonies, Aspen Trees, Dreams, God, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Shades of White, Spirits, The Perception of White, White, Winter poem

If snow could form into tree,

It would be the aspen.

Snow, one of a thousand

shades of white,

The perception of light and brightness–

And Spirits, rising up like like colonies,

Covered in it. The snow. This aspen.

Our hopes. Our dreams. The good dreams,

That is. The ones where fairy god mothers

Float down and save us.

Did you know, aspen bark heals?

They say it takes away pain–

Like a friend, a lover, my mother

rubbing my back until it burns.

And, like a child, that’s what I want it to be.

Yet, its naked trunk rises like winter–

So unafraid, so unalone,

So rigid, intractable and distant.

Yes, if snow could form into tree,

It would be the aspen,

And the cold, white stillness of what seems

A winter that won’t go away.

My Mother’s Breast with Cancer

25 Monday Aug 2014

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Breast Cancer, Cancer, Death, Dying, Hallmark, Loss, Love, Moms, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry

Think of yourself motherless
In this false, frail world.
This world where you don’t touch blood,
Or suffering, or death, but hope
Someone will be there to touch yours.

She pulled my hand to her bare breast,
Cupped it underneath,
Rested the heft of it,
In my palm:

Do you feel it, she asked.
I feel it, I said.

I feel it.

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