Charlotte Ballard Poems
|286.||Burger King Poet||3/30/2005|
|288.||A Two-Minute Poem||7/13/2005|
|294.||You Come Too||3/30/2005|
|297.||My Lying Fault||4/24/2005|
|299.||A Poet's Heart||1/23/2006|
|303.||Writer In Training||12/27/2005|
|305.||A Mother's Day Poem||2/7/2006|
|306.||I Never Had A Mother||7/20/2005|
|307.||My Only Song||3/30/2005|
|308.||To Emily Dickinson||3/30/2005|
|309.||Ode To Pizza||3/30/2005|
Comments about Charlotte Ballard
A Mother's Day Poem
My mother keeps a poem
That I wrote when I was
More than a child, but
Not yet a Woman.
In it, I praised her motherly ways
And calm hand -
Claiming that she was
The delight of my life and
My central love -
What I had wanted to say,
What I needed to say -
Was to scream out for protection-
For her to run with me
To the hills, and borrow in deep.
I did not tell the secrets, even
In the thick of the lies
Where even a good eraser
Would not have dug them out.
What I needed was for her
To love me
Black Cat guards the top of my computer
Smiles gently as eyes are closed
Bought at half price at a shelter
Crowded with cousins needing homes.
She celebrates her supremeness and her beauty
By knocking my drink into my keyboard.