Treasure Island

Jim Sularz

(December - 1949 / Minneapolis, Minnesota)

Through Mother's Eyes

Through Mother’s Eyes
© 2009 (Jim Grant Sularz)

With my first Soulful breath,
it was Mother’s eyes I saw.
She counted my tiny fingers and toes,
leaned gently, to kiss my brow.

Announcements sent out right away,
my name chosen, so carefully.
The name, I think, a famous General’s claim,
was now the name, I’d call my own.

My first birthday gift,
sweet cake smeared across my face and lips.
The first steps I took, outside Mother’s reach,
she sprinkled Fairy dust, to help me Fly!

Each year, with each measured line,
Mother made my mark along the door.
But I always tried to fudge a bit,
with tiptoes on the floor.

Bumps and scrapes and crying soothed,
some ointment, she’d kiss away the pain.
Everyday, I'd come running back to Mother,
for hugs and kisses, anyway.

First day of school, anxious cries at Home,
an endless day away from Mom.
“Draw me a “choo-choo” trains, ” she said,
and I drew them - all day long.

It was through Mother’s eyes, that I glimpse the World,
both good and bad were explained.
But only good would make it past Mother’s eyes,
and the bad was chased fast away.

Warm Summer days, Family picnics at the lake,
corn dogs and ice cream on a stick.
Cold snowy nights, white frosted windowpanes,
making snow Angels, with half-frozen fingertips.

First school date, first Christmas dance,
where Cinderellas and Princes pranced.
But, the eyes I noticed now,
were no longer just my Mother’s.

Long years of school, drills and rules,
a Foreign shore, a Sweetheart missed.
And through it all, there was always Mother's voice,
calling me Home, from a War's abyss.

Wedding bells rang out crystal clear,
those other eyes I noticed, were now adored.
The years flew by, our Children grew,
and Mother grew older, too.

Thanksgiving feasts around the table,
Children born, toasts, and loud celebrations,
Birthday gifts, songs, proud graduations,
and Mother’s bright eyes, began to dim.

In her quiet manner, with a solemn look,
Mother smiled and held my hands.
“Upstairs, there’s a jar, behind my easy chair,
go there - when the time is right.'

When Death arrived, in wait for Mother,
with a chilled silence, on the darkest night.
Mother reached out for her last embrace,
then was wisked away, bathed in light.

Mother never washed off my marks along the door,
saved a flower from my first Christmas Dance.
Framed her collection of my “choo-choo” trains,
next to a portrait of General Grant.

Grand Children loved to dress up at “Great Granny’s House, ''
where Cinderellas and Princes pranced.
And upstairs - Mother left me her Fairy dust,
to help them Fly!

Submitted: Thursday, November 26, 2009
Edited: Thursday, October 28, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Through Mother's Eyes by Jim Sularz )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley Updates

New Poems

  1. Aladdin Lamp, Aftab Alam
  2. Time Is Against Them, Afzal Ahmed Syed
  3. For Us, Afzal Ahmed Syed
  4. The Death of Stella D'Cruz1, Afzal Ahmed Syed
  5. If My Voice Is Not Reaching You, Afzal Ahmed Syed
  7. Pen And Paper, ali chukwuemeka
  8. Decoy, Aftab Alam
  9. My plaints, Hrishikesh Bharadwaj
  10. The Blind's thought, Hrishikesh Bharadwaj

Poem of the Day

poet George Gordon Byron

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
...... Read complete »


Modern Poem


Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]