Greatly Talented

Some people seem to shine
with clout and published name;
they’re blessed with grace and skill
which brings them earthly fame.

We call them talented,
and naturally endowed,
and thus the populace
applauds them long and loud.

Begrudging them success,
of course, would be quite wrong;
but there’s another view
that we should take along.

Just take a mother’s lot,
when faithful to her trust,
shouldn't talent be ascribed
when she fights grime and dust?

There are mothers who excel
but even those who don’t 
need talent to survive—
more chores than you can count.

Some days—not long enough,
for all that must be done;
distractions are the norm—
demands from everyone.

Instead of being praised,
too oft she’s criticized;
if she can “keep her cool,”
that’s talent, highly prized!

fpn 11/84



Picture: depositphotos.com #51131877, standard license

Honoring Mother

The Bible states, “give honor”
to whom it’s rightly due.
If we’re alert, we’ll notice
some noble traits and true
applying to our mother,
so often overlooked,
performing many duties—
like untold meals she’s cooked.

She doesn’t want our flattery,
nor worship (true of some).
Sincere appreciation
is what makes a mother hum!
Her routine is not simple—
perhaps appears that way;
but stitches, steps and service
fill many a grueling day.

Decisions! Oh, so many,
and complex, she must make;
and is she then called stupid
for making one mistake?
How many things we ask her
and she’s supposed to know—
from finding books to car keys,
and little thanks we show.

So once a year we honor
and I don’t say it’s wrong,
but this is not sufficient
to fill Mom’s life with song.
On days routine or hectic,
let’s learn to lend a hand
and thank God for a mother
He only could have planned.

fpn 5/83

A Mother’s Qualifications

This week features poems in honor of mothers.











There’s more to being a mother
than having a child or two;
it takes a “heap of living”
and doing, to make it so.
In fact, a childless lady
may also qualify,
by care of other’s children
whose fate has gone awry.

One word stands in conjunction
with “mother”—it is “home.”
You cannot separate them—
the point of many a poem.
And mom’s the one who makes it
a sweet and tidy place;
without her touch it could not
reveal such charm and grace.

She doesn’t call it boredom—
those repetitious chores;
the cooking and the laundry
and cleaning of the floors.
The work is not what thrills her
but what she sees beyond:
it’s love for dad and children
that makes her calling fond.

We’re all too quick to grumble
and slow to lend a hand;
and how we take for granted
delicious meals she’s planned.
Though pained, she makes allowance
when her failures we berate;
now, don’t you agree we often
should say, “Hey, Mom, you’re great!”

fpn / undated



Photo Credit: Deposit Photos #71535455, standard license