Mother's Pride (poem) by Walter LaVerne Jones on AuthorsDen

Mother's Pride
by Walter LaVerne Jones → (All Poetry by Walter LaVerne Jones)
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In our mothers hearts each holds a special place. So it is in eyes of God
Stop for a while hold the dream of me again Picture in the evening of the dreams on the shelf Hold the picture mother would understand Keep me close to the dream cause we start again Street was a place to fight the dollar and party Skip the lights and find me in the corner sad Mother tells of my many wins the perfection drawn Shadow dancing with life and status that found me Stop in the middle of a nightmare gun in hand Take a place in line of treble known fear in heart No mention of past or perfect just a job well done Arm on my shoulder to guide and live in the gutter Silly people keep the picture close to my heart School and place cry in a world death lingers Temptation on every lip and I keep her picture close Silly child keeps a perfect image and move closer Stop for a while hold the dream of me again Picture in the evening of the dreams on the shelf Hold the picture mother would understand Keep me close to the dream cause we start again Rode the midnight train made it from hell and back Soul is the attitude of tasting every facet of living Each passer bye a picture held close to my heart Angel takes me to the door and helps me survive Stop in the middle of a nightmare gun in hand Take a place in line of treble known fear in heart No mention have past or perfect just a job well done Arm on my shoulder to guide and live in the gutter On the mantle of my mother sits my picture I have walked passed the history of society My mark is the history of better given in love My picture is her core and the love will never die At her coffin I pause in prayer let her know Best rewarded was the tribute to God not man Still my heart was one melted with task complete Made her proud as I walk the face of this earth in love Stop for a while hold the dream of me again Picture in the evening of the dreams on the shelf Hold the picture mother would understand Keep me close to the dream cause we start again Angel wings and dance on the stage before all No distaste just feet falling in place perfection Voice in key melody floats in real value kept No applause silence kept in awe from the picture

Reviewed by Alice Cooper (Reader)

Reviewed on October 28, 2004

I know you are happy to see someone treat your work with so much respect. For without others we write in a vacuum and it bounces off the walls in our minds and echoes inside our heart. Right Walter.
I guesss no one should worry about the echoes.

Reviewed by Tinka Boukes

To be a mother is the greatest gift but the most painful too!!

Very deep touching piece Walter!!

Love Tinka