Marie Shine

Gold Star - 9,860 Points (April 27th,1950 / Listowel. Co. Kerry)

A Mother Never Forgets - Poem by Marie Shine

The old nun lay dying on her bed
Many thoughts tip-toed through her head
Of a baby boy, her only child
From her younger days, her life then wild
She gave him up at birth for adoption
Having no choice, her only option
While the Sisters around her chant in solemn prayer
Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling in a magnetic stare
She wonders what became of him
The memory of him, newly born, now dim
Into his basket that morning before they took him away
She placed a gold family ring, to fit him one day
The Priest then came, he held her hand and her heart it did sing
She saw there reflected her gold family ring
So, he'd become a Priest, the thought filled her with joy
Her dear darling son, her own baby boy
She closed her eyes peacefully, her time had now come
So happy to have seen this Priest - her son
The Priest's job was over and he went on his way
He felt at ease now, for the nun he would pray
But he took off the ring, slipped it into his pocket
It was given to him yesterday, by a dying drug addict!

Topic(s) of this poem: love

Comments about A Mother Never Forgets by Marie Shine

  • Gold Star - 15,405 Points Pamela Sinicrope (9/29/2015 4:10:00 PM)

    This poem pulled me in like a good story does. It broke my heart and left me wanting more for this nun. As a mother, our hopes are pinned very tightly to our children... She was a child herself when she gave up her child and became a nun. The choice of words for a rhyming poem is spot on, like the image of her baby tip toeing through her head. The irony at the end was a surprise... Did the priest know about the ring? Vegas it by chance...divine intervention... A gift from God? Though somewhat twisted. Well done. (Report) Reply

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  • Gold Star - 20,753 Points Daniel Brick (9/8/2014 12:46:00 AM)

    This poem defies a simple emotional response. Just as one aspect makes you rejoice, another aspect cuts you to the quick. Ultimately you have to surrender to the fact that limited knowledge may be better than total knowledge. I'm glad the old nun died thinking her son lives a blessed life. I'm glad the priest does more good than he realizes.
    I'm glad a poem like yours opens our hearts to literal compassion - to suffer with another. (Report) Reply

  • Veteran Poet - 1,909 Points S.D. TIWARI (8/24/2014 11:18:00 AM)

    Nicely written. All the best (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 24, 2014

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