High School English Poetry Collection

Ode

My Mother

Work, work, that’s all she does

Never ceasing with her toil

She cleans and sweeps and washes clothes

That only God knows how I soil

Like a mother hawk she watches me

Never breaking her gaze

Always making sure my work is done

Since I can procrastinate for days

The iron rod of discipline

Clenched tightly in her grasp

Will prove me guilty or innocent

If guilty, though, it’s hardly lenient

With all bad things, come some good

Found memories I still hold dear

They sweep away the bad ones like chaff

And bring renewing freshness to mind

This woman loves me….

Without her I would be lost,

My Mother,

My Mother