sometimes
when a fever
runs high
and
i
am alone
in my bed
all my fears
swirling in my head
creating such
dread
i
would swear
i feel your gentle hands
wiping my brow
and
speaking softly
that all
will be well
and
that i
am
not
alone
Poem inspired by Soul Dipper (http://souldipper.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/love-embedded-a-mothers/)
CHARLES W. MARTIN (Reading Between the Minds) — earned his Ph.D. in Speech and Language Pathology with an emphasis in statistics. Throughout Charlie’s career, he maintained a devotion to the arts (literature/poetry, the theater, music and photography). Since his retirement in 2010, he has turned his full attention to poetry and photography. He publishes a poem and a photographic art piece each day at Read Between the Minds, Poetry, Photograph and Random Thoughts of Life. He is noted as a poet of social conscience. Charlie has been blogging since January 31, 2010. He has self-published a book of poetry entitled The Hawk Chronicles and will soon publish another book called A Bea in Your Bonnet: First Sting, featuring the renown Aunt Bea. In The Hawk Chronicles, Charlie provides a personification of his resident hawk with poems and photos taken over a two-year period. Charlie’s lastest book, When Spirits Touch, Dual Poetry, a collaboration with River Urke, is available through Amazon now.
this is wonderful, thank you for sharing and have a lovely day x
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This is a loving tribute.
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Charlie! Charles! Your consistency and commitment to quality astonishes me. What a tribute to your mother. (Thank you for your claim to inspiration.)
Thank goodness Aunt Bea is going to escape the bonnet and pollinate all of us who are already in love with her. Please don’t hesitate one moment to let me know the minute it is available – humbleness not accepted.
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So loving a memory.
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such a dear poem, Charlie, and such a lovely photo of your mom. Gracefully done.
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Your love for your mother is so evident in this poem, Charles.
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I love this. Thank you for sharing it. I feel like I got to spend a moment with your mother, and with mine.
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I look at her photo and I see a loving, open human being. And your poem brings a comfort. You must miss her so, Charles.
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