Monday, May 12, 2014

Both Mother's Day poems written by Gloria Poole, RN, artist of Missouri and Georgia

This is [Copyrighted] poem I wrote and put on my blog at on 10 May 2014:

Real Women Have Babies

by Gloria Poole, RN, artist of Missouri and Georgia

Real women have babies;

yes they do.

They use their ovaries

and eggs

and mix them with sperm

the usual way

in their womb

and plant them there

in the soft cushy nest

of their inner part

and they water them

and they feed them every day

and watch with tender care

their every move,

and every bite

and every social contact

to avoid germs

and pollutants

and evil.

They watch their bellies grow


And bigger.

And biggest.

Til their sides pop

and stretch marks appear

and they feel as if

they will scream

from the weight

on their ribs and spine

and the pressure on their bladder.

But then,


nature takes its course,

and the laboring begins,

laboring to push baby

into the world,

alive and well,

and screaming lustily,

with outrage at,

being shoved through

a tiny channel,

into the very cold,

not 98 point 6 ,

from human body warmth,

And into the hands of sometimes

barely grasping ,

a wriggling, screaming baby.

And then.

O, my!

Then, motherhood instinct kicks

into overdrive,

And she sees her baby.

Her precious tiny reproduction

of herself and her man.

And her heart,

swells with joy,

and love,

til she feels

it will burst.

And she's overcome,

with emotion,

and love,

for her husband,

and for her baby

and relief.

Relief with a capital R.

Relief: her baby is born!

Relief: her baby is alive!

Relief: her baby is breathing!

Relief: her baby is proof,

that she is a,


And also, this next poem is the one I wrote on 11 May 2014 and posted to my blog at today.

Also, before you start reading, notice that mater is Latin, mutter is German, madre is Italian and mere with backward accent on first e is French for mother. COPYRIGHT !! See 12 May 2014.

M is for Mother

by Gloria Poole, RN, artist of Missouri and Georgia

M is for mother,





The one who brought us

into the world;

who endured the agony

of childbirth,

to bring us to the

light of day,

from the inner sanctum

of her womb.

The one who

wiped our bottoms;

and our noses;

and got up at 2 am

for nightly feedings.

And watched over us

like a hawk

watches a chicken,

ready to swoop in,

at break-neck speed

if need be

to rescue her darlings

from brink of disaster.


A synonym for self-sacrifice;

for never putting one's self,

first on the list

for needs fulfillment;

but instead, in

last position.

The last one to bed at night,

the last one to eat,

the last one to receive anything,

when the budget

cannot be stretched

another cent.


The woman who conceived us,

birthed us,

bathed us,

fed us,

cried with us,

and for us.


The woman who sewed

clothes for us,

because she couldn't

afford to buy them.

And cut our hair,

and permed it.

And made us

wear our "Sunday clothes"

to worship THE LORD,

and brush our hair,

and our teeth,

And 'sit up straight".


The woman who said,

"do you want your face

to freeze like that?"

when I stuck-out my tongue

at my brother.


the woman who,

when she was

really, really, REALLY,


at something we'd done.

would tell us,

"go to the tree

and get a switch."

And then she'd

strike our legs and bottoms,

with it,

a few firm swats,

And then she'd say,

"the next time I tell

to behave,

remember this."


My mother MJBP died

four years ago.

And as I arrived,

at her house in Georgia

where my siblings

were gathered,

one of her best friends

in life,

called on telephone

and asked to speak

to me.

And said,

"Gloria. You have lost

the best friend

you ever had.

Your mother

prayed for you.

And asked me

to pray for you


And I did.

I wanted you to

to know this."

The shock

one feels,

when one's mother

passes away,

often cannot be

put into words.

The utter sense

of desolation,

feels bottomless,

for a long,




Endless grief,

endless sorrow,

. endless,

. orphan status.

Honor your mother,

The Bible says,

in Exodus 20:12,

that your days,

may be long,

on the earth.

Honor your mother,

for the most precious

gift of all,

the gift of life,

. she gave you.

If you had a poor


who could never give you

material things,

but birthed you,

fed you, bathed you,

. diapered you,

she did all,

that GOD requires

of women,

according to Genesis 3:16.

If she didn't

murder you

in the womb,

be grateful

to GOD;

that you lived

through the

womb time,

and honor your mother

that she chose life.

. To please GOD.

And be at peace.

with your self.

The unique You,

that GOD made.

and praise GOD,

for the mother

HE gave you.

Honor your mother,

with thanksgiving

and tributes,

and teach your children

to do the same.

Also, please see the Mother's Day tribute I made on my Gloria's blog, mini exhibit of art blog at, on 10 May 2014. I also am the mother of two grown daughters and the grandmother of seven minor children. I adore my grandchildren. I consider them GOD's rewards to me for having survived trauma twice, and endured hardship to stay true to Christian beliefs and the commandments of GOD; and for believing that the word of GOD as spoken to Adam and Eve, the first humans on earth, "to be fruitful and multiply" [Genesis 1:27-28, KJV] were still GOD's first and foremost instruction to every human.

One of my profiles on yahoo : { I didn't hide my name. Yahoo does that for their reasons, not for my purposes.].

Also, I put an updated list of prolife resources on another blog of mine that is almost exclusively for prolife matters: Prolife activists can learn much because I write often as a Registered Nurse on the topic of ending abortion and medical facts.

Copyright Notice. This blog and all content on it, all words, all art, all photos are owned by me Gloria Poole,and I also own all rights to it. It may not be copied, republished, reproduced or saved to disk or computer by anyone without my written and and notarized signature on paper for a specific purpose. I write the words, I draw the art, paint it, sign it, photograph it, upload it and I photograph the photos I put on any blog of mine. I, Gloria Poole, RN, artist who resides in Missouri but who was born in state of Georgia sign my art either as Gloria or Gloria Poole which is my real , born with, legal name; and my art, my photos, and words may not be printed, reprinted, republished, downloaded to disk or flash drives, copied, photocopied, printed at remote, or in any way reproduced without my written signature on paper notarized as to authenticity , and for a specific purpose. I have never signed away en masse my copyrights to any art I have ever created or any words I have ever written; and I do not have artist rep or literary agent at this point in time, and never did in the past. See the full disclosure of information and copyright on this page on the about me page and also on my blogs on about me page and on my official blog of Tapestry of LIFE at

Gloria Poole, RN, artist, also known as Gloria / gloriapoole / gloria-poole / gloria.poole; gloriapooleRN at yahoo; @gloriapoole and other variations of my real, born with, legal name of Gloria Poole, at my private apt in Missouri, that is not shared with anyone; 12-May-2014 to confirm that I, Gloria Poole, RN, artist of Missouri and Georgia, wrote these two poems that I posted individually on other blogs of mine as Mother's Day tribute to all mothers everywhere; at 11:41am.