Abstract Metal Art Gift: Mother's Pot of Love Acrylic Metal Painting: (8.25 x 7"): SOLD
A Pot of Love and A Mother's Pride
A Narrative Poem About Mothers Love
By Injete Chesoni
In our kitchen above the stove
Sits a pot my mother calls love
It’s a strange little pot you see
Decorated with eyes that always watch me
Much like my mother’s eyes follow me
One day I decided to ask my mother the story
that lay behind her little pot of mystery
She sat at the kitchen table
And took me up on her knee
Then began to tell me the pot’s history
When I was a young woman
A little older than you
My mother came home
With a package wrapped in blue
She called me into the kitchen
And gazed down at me
Then handed me the package
much to my glee
I tore off the blue wrapper
expecting to find
Baubles or jewels of some kind
Instead what I found
Was a pot drawn with eyes all around
My mother sensing my dismay
As I put the odd little pot away
Smiled her gentle smile
And said in her loving way
I know you don’t understand this gift my child
But you will one day
And on that strange note she rose
and strode over to the stove
To begin cooking our supper
I stomped out of the kitchen with my odd little pot
And tossed it in the corner wishing it would rot
Many years later after my mother died
Is when I finally realized
That the pot was her way of letting me know
She would always be watching over me
with a loving glow
Stored in the eyes of the pot
that she gave me so long ago.
I looked up at my mother as
tears rolled down her face.
That’s the end of the story she said.
I reached for the pot
And caught her teardrops
As they slowly slid off her face
And for the first time that night
I saw the pot with different eyes
It was a pot of love and a mother’s pride.
A Narrative Poem About Mothers Love
By Injete Chesoni
In our kitchen above the stove
Sits a pot my mother calls love
It’s a strange little pot you see
Decorated with eyes that always watch me
Much like my mother’s eyes follow me
One day I decided to ask my mother the story
that lay behind her little pot of mystery
She sat at the kitchen table
And took me up on her knee
Then began to tell me the pot’s history
When I was a young woman
A little older than you
My mother came home
With a package wrapped in blue
She called me into the kitchen
And gazed down at me
Then handed me the package
much to my glee
I tore off the blue wrapper
expecting to find
Baubles or jewels of some kind
Instead what I found
Was a pot drawn with eyes all around
My mother sensing my dismay
As I put the odd little pot away
Smiled her gentle smile
And said in her loving way
I know you don’t understand this gift my child
But you will one day
And on that strange note she rose
and strode over to the stove
To begin cooking our supper
I stomped out of the kitchen with my odd little pot
And tossed it in the corner wishing it would rot
Many years later after my mother died
Is when I finally realized
That the pot was her way of letting me know
She would always be watching over me
with a loving glow
Stored in the eyes of the pot
that she gave me so long ago.
I looked up at my mother as
tears rolled down her face.
That’s the end of the story she said.
I reached for the pot
And caught her teardrops
As they slowly slid off her face
And for the first time that night
I saw the pot with different eyes
It was a pot of love and a mother’s pride.
A Poem of Thanksgiving for a Mother's Love from Mothers Poems, Narrative Poems and Story Poems by Injete Chesoni.
