a poem (for my mother)

Both my parents passed away in the last year and a half or so. At the moment I’m doing some involving work to clear up parts of their estate, which is requiring me to be at the old house every day, and sell or shift bits and pieces of their lives. It gets very old, as an activity, quite quickly.

Just now I came across this poem in the archive collection that I’m cleaning up. It was written in July, 2019 just a couple of days after she died.

Here’s to Magdalena


a poem (for my mother)

did you know
that people came
from sydney

walking past on the footpath
they stopped
to tell me

these were the nicest roses
the prettiest
that they had seen
in all
of the town

my mother’s garden
the heart of her

roses perhaps
were the soul

the mystery of
and her success in producing
an orchid spray
was a bursting
of pride



get your bat
and ball


the backyard
just in front
of the washing line
was a cricket pitch

perpetually waiting

it waited
for years
as generations grew
and transformed
from babies
into cricketers

in her memory
a game was played
every day

and she
was a warm place
for children

(deep fried)
is ready

creamy potato and egg
is on the way

extend the table
for the grown ups

put the little ones
over there

take the meat
to the men
to cook on the barbeque

is everyone

is missing

she has always wanted
to be here

in her garden
at her dinner table

surrounding her

at home


27 thoughts on “a poem (for my mother)

    • Lovely, Ellen. I’m glad.

      Estate clearing has to end soon. The house is sold and I have to go back to my usual employment soon (this has been a long-leave sojourn of 3 months).

      The detailed work will end and the big dumping of remnants looms.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Perhaps it is good you have a deadline. From my experience it is easier to not finish some of these tasks especially around those remnants. Although the relief of having it done proved to be immense in the case of my mother-in-law.

        I hope your return to the “usual employment” is smooth.


  1. These memories will never leave you, Frank. If you had a good Mum you are indeed blessed, (as my brother and I are). What a fitting and beautiful tribute for a beautiful and hardworking lady

    Liked by 1 person

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