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AS YOUR MOTHER

I CAN SHARE WITH YOU LIFE
BUT I CAN NOT LIVE IT FOR YOU.

I CAN TEACH YOU THINGS
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU LEARN.

I CAN GIVE YOU DIRECTIONS
BUT I CAN NOT ALWAYS BE THERE TO LEAD YOU.

I CAN TAKE YOU TO CHURCH
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU BELIEVE.

I CAN ALLOW YOU FREEDOM
BUT I CAN NOT ACCOUNT FOR YOU.

I CAN TEACH YOU RIGHT FROM WRONG
BUT I CAN NOT ALWAYSN DECIDE FOR YOU.

I CAN BUY YOU NICE THINGS
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU LOVELY.

I CAN OFFER YOU ADVICE
BUT I CAN NOT ACCEPT IT FOR YOU.

I CAN GIVE YOU LOVE
BUT I CAN NOT FORCE IT UPON YOU.

I CAN TEACH YOU TO BE A FRIEND
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU ONE.

I CAN TEACH YOU TO SHARE
BUT I CAN NOT YOU UNSELFISH

I CAN TEACH YOU TO RESPECT
BUT I CAN NOT FORCE YOU TO HONOR

I CAN ADVISE YOU ABOUT FRIENDS
BUT I CAN NOT CHOOSE THEM FOR YOU.

I CAN TEACH YOU ABOUT SEX BUT I CAN NOT KEEP YOU PURE.
I CAN TELL YOU THE FACTS OF LIFE
BUT I CAN NOT BUILD YOUR REPUTATION.

I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT DRINKING AND DRUGS
BUT I CAN NOT SAY NO FOR YOU.

I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT LOFTY GOALS
BUT I CAN NOT ACHIEVE THEM FOR YOU.

I CAN LET YOU WORK
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU RESPONSIBLE.

I CAN TEACH YOU TO OBEY
BUT I CAN NOT ANSWER FOR YOUR ACTIONS.

I CAN TEACH YOU KINDNESS
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU TO BE GRACIOUS.

I CAN WARN YOU ABOUT SINS
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOUR MORALS.

I CAN LOVE YOU AS MY CHILD
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE HIM YOUR SAVIOR.

I CAN SHOW YOU FAITH
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU TRUST IN GOD.

I CAN TEACH YOU PRAYER
BUT I CAN NOT MAKE YOU PRAY.

I CAN TEACH YOU HOW TO LIVE
BUT I CAN NOT GIVE YOU THE CIRCLE OF LIFE.

I CAN AND I WILL
LOVE YOU FOREVER.


(c) Charlena Nealey All Rights Reserved

Comments to Author

And God Created Mothers

God took a little sunshine, sprinkled it with dew...
Tore from the heavens a raindrop...
Added a star or two.
Snatched the unassuming innocence of a child...
And in an instant, created a Mother's smile.
On the canvas of the sky,
He gently dipped His brush...
With the colors taken from the rainbow,
painted a Mother's blush.
Plucked a flower ever so gently from a garden with care...
With the petals from a rose,
placed patience and understanding...
And the ability burdens to bear.
Took the stillness of the thunder,
blended it with the softness of a dove...
With precision and cunning, created a Mother's love.
With a dash of blue from the infinity of the sea,
placed in a Mother's heart, truth and humility.
Captured gold from Saturn's ring,
spun it with silver from a Shooting star...
Delicately placed it within a Mother's reach...
So for the luxury of her days,
she would not have to travel far.

And God looked at what He had made...
And He was ecstatically pleased, for in all creation there was
None as precious as these...

MOTHERS


(c) toya pitre All Rights Reserved

Comments to Author

Who Else, But A Mother?

Who first loves and nurtures us
and takes care of every need,
as she accepts into her life
someone new to bathe and feed?

Who brags about accomplishments;
first teeth...first sounds...first smile
and makes every little thing that's done
seem important and worthwhile?

Who's been known to, after dark
enter a room and slowly creep
to bend and kiss the forehead
of a child fast asleep?

Who holds a hand while crossing
as she thoughtfully conveys
a reminder to her child
that he should always "look both ways?"

Who wipes peanut butter off a cheek
and crayon off the wall
and knots an untied shoelace
to avoid a likely fall?

Who watches the swift passing
of childhood years that she will mourn,
and remembers every small detail
about the day that child was born?

Who works the longest hours
without a vacation...or a check,
but accepts her payment in the form
of a hug around her neck?

Who never stops believing
even when others are in doubt
and defends the fact her child was "safe"
when the umpire calls him out!?

Who senses things just aren't right
and with the palm of her hand decrees
by placing it on her child's brow...
the fever's 101 degrees?

Who shares life's disappointments
and feels the pain of all the bruises
and delights in her child's winnings,
but offers solace when he loses?

Who realizes as the years pass by...
the further her child will roam
and who stays up late with worry
when that child isn't home?

Who tries to shield and protect
by showing courage...staying strong;
trying to set a good example
while her heart is breaking all along?

Who acts as a private tutor
as the years fall in succession
by taking each opportunity
to teach life's every lesson?

Who listens with her heart
even when her child is grown
and understands the feelings
that she once herself, had known?

Who saved old cards and letters
and kept pictures on the shelves
and offered unconditional love
so we could learn to love, ourselves?

This poem describes one person;
a woman unlike any other,
for who could possess that level of love...
Who Else, But A Mother?

(c) 1998 Linda Ellis All Rights Reserved

Linda's Lyrics Personalized Poems

Comments to Author

What is a Mother?

Mothers look different from other women. Their hair isn't always done in the latest style, and sometimes, it isn't done at all.

A mother is a woman who can bake a cake with six other hands helping her and still have it turn out fine.

A mother's shoulders sometimes smells of sour milk, and if you are very observant, you'll notice safety pin holes in her clothes -- even her Sunday best.

Mother's frequently have runs in their stockings, likely as not, Junior didn't park his trike off the sidewalk.

A mother is different. She likes chicken wings and backs and the hamburger that is slightl y burned -- things the kids and Daddy don't care for. She never takes the last chop on the plate, and she always saves the candy from the tray at the club to bring home to the children.

A mother may not have ulcers, but she has versatile tears. They show anger, weariness, hurt or happiness. Once, when Daddy forgot an anniversary, Mother cried. One Saturday, he brought home some chocolates when it wasn't even her birthday or anything, and she cried then, too.

A mother is someone who can repair the kitchen sink with only her hands -- after Daddy spent alot of time trying with tools and plenty of cuss words.

When a mother dies, she must face Him with her record of accomplishments. If she's done a good job of caring for her children, she'll get the most sought-after position in heaven, that of rocking baby angels on soft white clouds and wiping their celestial tears with the corner of her apron.

(c) 1997 LadyJ All Rights Reserved

Comments to Author

The Love of a Mother
By Helen Steiner Rice
It takes a Mother's Love
To make a house a home
A place to be remembered,
No matter where we roam.

It takes a Mother's patience
To bring a child up right,
And her courage and her cheerfulness
To make a dark day bright.

It takes a Mother's thoughtfulness
To mend the heart's deep hurts,
And her skill and her endurance
To mend little socks and shirts.

It takes a Mother's kindness
To forgive us when we err,
To sympathize in trouble
And bow her head in prayer.

It takes a Mother's wisdom
To recognize our needs,
And to give us reassurance
By her loving words and deeds.

It takes a Mother's endless faith,
Her confidence and trust,
To guide us through the pitfalls
Of selfishness and lust.

And that is why in all this world
There could not be another,
Who could fulfill God's purpose
As completely as a Mother

 


 

 


 


 

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