OctPoWriMo #4: Children
The house was always filled
to the brim with several sets
of little eyes, small mouths,
and tiny feet.
The tiny feet
would pitter patter
down the long stretch of hallway
which led to a row of bedrooms.
The bedrooms would serve
as portals to other dimensions
during long stretches
of strange games.
And the games we plaid in the den
would keep us busy
while you made dinner.
OctPoWriMo #5: Matriarch
The mother of mothers,
The head of the family’s state,
You’re the first to tell
The last to judge
And the one who first set our fate.
The Queen above all queens
You yield power
The last to hate
The first to love
The last to ever sit and cower.
The teacher of teachers
The kindest person known
I watch you
Mother others
Not of blood
But still claim them as your own.
Previous OctPoWriMo Poems
Jazzed About Stuff 