POETRY FOR MOTHERS

GOOD MOTHER
I've got money in my pocket,
I like the color of my hair.
I've got a friend who loves me,
Got a house, I've got a car.
I've got a good mother,
and her voice is what keeps me here.

Feet on ground,
Heart in hand,
Facing forward,
Be yourself.
I've never wanted anything.
No I've, no I've, I've never wanted anything,
so bad..(so bad).

Cardboard masks of all the people I've been
Thrown out, with all the rusted, tangled
dented God Damned miseries!!
You could say I'm hard to hold,
But if you knew me you'd know,
I've got a good father,
And his strength is what makes me cry.

Feet on ground,
Heart in hand,
Facing forward,
Be yourself.
I've never wanted anything,
No I've, no I've, I've never
wanted anything so bad..(so bad).

I've got money in my pockets,
I like the color of my hair.
I've got a friend who loves me,
Got a house, I've got a car.
I've got a good mother,
and her voice is what keeps me here.

Feet on ground,
Heart in hand,
Facing forward,
Be yourself.

Heart in hand,
Feet on ground,
Facing forward,
Be yourself.
just be yourself.
just be yourself.

Feet on ground,
Heart in hand,
Feet on ground,
Heart in hand....

Jan Arden / Canadian Composer

Richer Then Gold
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be -
I had a mother who read to me.

- Strickland Gillilan (1869-1954)

Territory of my Heart
I appear to be what I need to be
I brave the elements and fold my arms around my heart
I bear defeat and struggle with success
My actions are charted, and my view is focused
I have spent long years sailing about in the world
I know people, and I feel their thoughts
But I have only seen the topography and not touched it
I fit into the continental divide as a body of land
I whirl in the wind like a small seed
I am formed by the forces outside myself
But in a place where no one sees, your love and faith guide me
The single place where truth alights is in my
Quiet , silent, well lit heart
It is my own territory, and my own lush garden ofr memories.
Of your swinging coat, of your steady voice
You dwell in the territory of my heart
And you shine in the memory of my fading sight

- Kathy Fournier