Passing on the mother —
A mother’s wisdom, her
treasured recipes, not just
for food, but for life.
Passing on the mother —
her quirks, eccentricities,
superstitions, all the things
that made her who she was.
Passing on the mother —
her faults, her subtle way
of criticizing the things
she couldn’t understand.
Passing on the mother.
Passing by the mother.
Not quite making connection
until the mother passed on.
This poem was created for Miz Quickly’s Day Eighteen prompt, suggesting that we create a poem from the phrase, “passing on the mother,” or something similar. Once this was completed, I realized that I had inadvertently written a poem that could stand as a response to the Day Fifteen challenge to write a kyrielle, a series of quatrains each containing the same repeated line. I am not inclined to duplicate my efforts, except that I now see that these quatrains are supposed to rhyme. Aaargh.
the raven's eye 
This one is bitter sweet…I can appreciate this poem…mine has not passed but is estranged…any way, beautiful emotive poem.
Thanks, Hannah. We were not estranged, but the connection could have been stronger. Perhaps a lot of us feel that way, no matter what the relationship.
I think there’s a lot of truth in that Barb. Thank you.
This is so true. Nice one, Barbara.
Every word. Yes, Triple yes.
Third verse stands true of how I look at my (step) Mom.
I wonder if my own look at me that way? *sigh*