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For Mother’s Day

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Sing praises now of all the mothers

Who raised our friends, our dogs and brothers.

They were not perfect, they had the gall

To give us life, quite terminal.



Mrs. O’Toole and Mrs. Brown,

As moms, they were the best in town.

They cooked good meals, dried many tears,

And passed along their darkest fears.



Mrs. Jones was quite the sport

She triumphed on the tennis court.

She taught her children how to serve.

Twenty to life, they did with verve.



We must applaud dear Mrs. Rice.

She was the queen of sacrifice.

She gave her children everything –

Not any love, but lots of bling.



Miss Lowenstein , a single mom,

Struggled to raise her feisty Tom.

She made him study, made him work.

We’re not sure what made him a jerk.



Mrs. Calhoun could not care less

Whether her home was quite a mess.

Her furniture and kids had fleas,

Also the best flat screen TV’s.



We were afraid of Mrs. Blunt.

A big gal she, was not a runt.

Her name rhymed with a profane word.

Her high strung children all had GERD.



Everyone loved that  Mrs. Quince.

Her style and pride, we’ve not seen since.

She had a slew of space cadets.

As to their dads, bookies took bets.



The richest mom was Ms. Blaisart

Her husband drove a brown Dodge Dart.

Her children all wore thrift shop clothes.

The money went straight up her nose.



If your mom has not been cited

 Don’t feel hurt or somehow slighted

Those crazy moms, they’re quite a bunch.

Don’t poison their Sunday brunch.



This poem inspired by “Dog Days” by David Sedaris which can be found in his new book “Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls

All similarities to any moms living or dead are sincerely subconsious.


About polarflares

My head is so big because it has so many holes and air gets in.

One response »

  1. thanks for the laugh, Joan


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