Tag Archives: Mom

I’m Too Old For Lumps Or Finger Painting, But Maybe She’ll Hang This On Her Fridge Instead?

Today is my mother’s birthday.

Her birth did occur on this date.

In honor of her I caused this poem to occur

And published it moderately late.

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An Old-School Love Poem For The Woman Who Inspired My “Art”

Good morning Mom!

You are the bomb.

You made me exist

Before the CD Rom.

Today we shower you

With abundant aplomb.

You are the WWW

To my .com

You make delicious food

That I like to nom

And you are someone onto whom

I do like to glom.

I promise I’ll never leave you

To move away to Guam

Because I’m your favorite child

And you’re my best Mom.

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Notice I Didn’t Mention Her Age 😋

Happy Birthday Mother!

You gave birth like no other

Yo me and my sis,

So you I will kiss

And otherwise shamelessly smother!

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For A Very Tolerant Mother On This Auspicious Day

My mommy was a mother

Since before I was a brother

To my sister, and she kissed her

And tucked her into bed.

Then my mommy had another

(That was me), and then no other;

She was done, and though now I’m fun

Back then we cried ‘til fed.

And feed us well my mother did,

Both me and that darn other kid,

And I’ve attested she never rested

‘Til we kids were satisfied.

Then we got bigger and less cute;

One could walk and one could scoot,

After baby-proofing and pillow floofing

She probably wanted to hide.

Alas, we found her hiding places

And made her wipe our snotty faces.

She loved us still, despite the thrill

Having long since departed.

And then we started going to school,

Which meant less time mopping our drool.

With phlegmless floors she still did chores

As we laughed and said “I farted.”

And even when my sister was bad

(I never was, just ask our dad)

With grace and calm she’d slap her palm

Anywhere but on our faces.

When we got big and pubescent

She gave us the finest present

Like love and stuff, always enough

Yet gave us private spaces.

And oh the years of meals she cooked,

Though overworked and overlooked!

Oh the the years and sweat and tears

Endured by her for us! She

Will be remembered evermore,

For all of this, but even more:

She inspired my art. She’s old, but not a fart.

I end this poem thusly.

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She’s Also My Muse (And The Reason This Blog Exists)

My Mom’s the bomb!

Her name’s not Tom.

She deserves much great aplomb.

She’s older than a CD-Rom.

This poem’s bad, unlike my Mom.

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Without My Mom You’d Still Be Pretending To Like Robert Frost

Today we thank our mothers,

The reason we’re alive,

The commuter jets of fetuses

That ensured to life we’d arrive.

And after our delivery

Their labors didn’t stop;

Our every cry reminded them

Of a long-ago hop-on-Pop.

They spent many sleepless hours

Changing diapers, wiping tears,

Just for us to becomes teenagers

All full of angst and sneers.

But two moms we thank today

Whose children are divine.

One is the virgin Mary

And the other mom is mine.

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Always Get A Second Opinion

Glorious, glorious, glorious mom!

You are the shizzow! You are da bomb!

Your presence brings comfort, just like forty winks.

Dad says “no pet dolphin’, but what does you thinks?

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For My Mom, Based On Recent Events

Like the velour blanket

Upon my lap

A day with you is made good

Even if it were otherwise crap.

You’ll surely be in the number of

The saints that go marching in.

I’ll love you forever, even if at Catan

You always seems to win.

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A 93% Accurate History Of My Mom

When my Mom was younger

She worked on the railroad

All the live-long days.

She was filled with a hunger

To escape from the railroad

And find a guy with whom to pass the days.

She hung up her axe and hammer

For an erlenmeyer flask

And took a job for Carly Fiorina.

My Dad she did enamor

And had the guts to ask

“Do you want to see a show at the arena?”

They got married in the Summer

And moved out to Colorado

And brought my future sister to the world.

Three very-good years later

A doctor in Colorado

Said “you’ve got another kid in you. A girl.”

And so you dreamt of Molly

But months later Dave arrived

And his presence made your life complete.

When I think about it, golly!

Now your life story’s archived

And only for sake of rhymes did I once (or twice…) cheat.

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May 25th

Sixty-one candles,

Two and a half beards

Celebrating your many,

Many, many, many years.
I wrote these stanzas

To know that you smiled.

Happy Birthday Mom

From your second-best child.

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