Mother's Day Poem

My mother—a gorgeous, brainy architectural design engineer in 60’s stiletto pumps and lipstick who inspired me to think. To interpret correctly, to re-read and find the truth lodged between desperate lines of poetry. To sing sad songs, not because we’re sad--but for the simple reason that certain songs stir our soul—thus becoming meaningful. Warning us that while experimenting we should be prepared for criticism, because she was ready to offer advice and newspaper clippings supporting her point of view. Though I fall shy of her wit, her beauty and above all her knowledge, I am still in awe of her strength and the profound grace that made her my mother.

Of course she inspired my writing and here's a poem about that process. As a 'word-engineer', I'm hoping this inspires someone to see how something new can be created from our past experiences.

Little Engineer

When I was just a tiny girl,

I did many naughty things,

I played with mommy’s curlers,

And daddy’s funny springs.

Then one day I went to school,

Read everything I saw.

Listened when it wasn’t cool,

even learning how to draw!

One day doodling,

Something suddenly sprang!

It whirled, twirled,

Purred, hummed,

In magic levitation--

It practically sang--

The zing of...

first creation.

By Eve Gaal