her name was Dora Mae Stewart
descendent of a great Scottish clan
of red and blue and heathery hues
and hearts that broke far too easily
abandoned was she in tender youth
while dreaming of dolls dressed
in the finest lace and prettily faced
as she herself might achingly long to be
in California she found a new home
and a man from across the ocean wide
to embrace her heart, and to hearth
her smiling with the warmest dawns
in pain she bore me, her second bairn
heavier than the first and needier still
and yet never did she turn her back
on this grasping child crying for more
her hands combed such fervent care
through the hair I laid upon her lap
as her voice adorned our home with
ribbons of laughter and honest smiles
my tiny hands into dough she urged
textures to discover and giddy tastes
and to pattern love into pastries and
paintings of horses and grassy hills
patiently she nurtured my willful mind
finding hope in each expansive idea
i all too often invoked without a care
for the whys or hows of our tomorrows
all she could ever wish for and ever did
was that we could know a life complete
a fertile world of such rich tapestries
a time of immense beauty bravely illumined
and for that
and for her heart
i shall be forever grateful
Salt Lake City 17 Sep 2012
George Ellington 
Beautiful verses for a beautiful soul, George. I especially liked “How to pattern love into pastries.” Well done!
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Oh, thank you, Susan. She had indeed a beautiful soul. I miss her still and always will.
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Aww, this warmed my heart wholesomely ~~. Your mother was a beautiful devoted woman and I miss her also as your words have lodged her in the special spot of motherhood that I too hold dear ~
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I am so touched by that, T. And honored to think that in how I remember her, in the verses I compose, I have managed to share her with the hearts of others, even into those special places. Like yours. Thank you.
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Absolutely exquisite….a beautiful maternal bond you had George – it is evident. Thank you for sharing this important connection. Much Love ~ R
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It is so easy to remember those moments together, Robyn. Memories that I treasure. And sometimes weep over, yes. But mostly just embrace with the joy of knowing that our time together was honestly lived. Thank you, dear Robyn.
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Simply beautiful George. No doubt, mothers love their children so dearly…they would die for them without thought. To teach them to find beauty, in anything and everything, even in the pain…it is what we strive to hand our children..a glimmer of hope and beauty, to cope later with what is to come. She is no doubt, proud of her son.
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Thank you so much, RL. There is so much of striving and worrying and yes, pain, in the life of a mother, and through it all, and through the sincerity of her will and effort, there is such tremendous beauty in motherhood. Thank you for your kind and insightful comment.
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Stunning and achingly beautiful…Mothers are so giving and full of love and warmth, how easy it is to reach out to them and ask or confess,demand or fight and yet in next second she forgives and gives more..what a lovely poem and what a beautiful tribute..
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So very well said, Soma. I believe you are right. Humans are so inclined to carry disappointments and angers with them, and yet a mother — a truly loving mother — forgives all, and in that forgiveness, a child finds such security in life. Thank you for sharing this.
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Beautiful George. Such a lovely tribute. A bond to be cherished always.
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Thank you dearly, Robyn. Cherish it I do. And my memories of her.
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