MY MOTHER’S KISS
Your kiss
making the broken
eggshell of my mind
invisibly mend itself
a scrambled egg no longer
making the spilt milk
of my feelings
jump like an acrobat
back into the bottle
the shattered glass
stitch itself perfectly
(molecule) to(molecule)
until one
couldn’t
discern
(with the naked eye)
the where or when or how
it had all fallen apart
your kiss
stuffing the stuffing
back into
the cuddly toy
my torn heart
the little stitches
looking like little x’s
x x
x x
x
they smile
your kiss dressing the world
in your laughter.
*******
MY MOTHER’S HANDS
My mother’s hands
washing potatoes
washing kids
washing pans.
My mother’s hands
on bitterly cold days
pegging yet more washing
on a pregnant line
the line growing nothing but
nappies
her hands blind
with the cold.
My mother’s hands
ironing clothes
ironing clothes
ironing countless knickers
for my seven sisters.
My mother’s hands
taking my hands
in hers
such love...such laughter!
My mother’s hands
patting talcum powder
on another baby’s bum.
Mum being Mum.
Me, kissing
my mother’s hands
for all...they’ve done.
******
My Mother's Tears - A Haiku
Magpies and nappies
growing on the Winter line.
My Mam...tired...crying.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-mother-s-hands-in-memory-of-my-mother-ita-dempsey/
