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TO MY CHILDREN
My children - words cannot describe the love I hold for you,
the tenderness, the wanting to do all that I can do
to make of each of you a person honest, true and warm;
the way I've planned and worried since the day you each were born.
To each I give a special love, for each is all his own;
the personalities they have are theirs, and theirs alone.
I wouldn't change them, not a bit, but I would like to share
what I have learned these many years, to try and help them fare.
To do things right the first time; that some will disagree,
but they may think their thoughts with just as many rights as we;
that money isn't everything; that caring means a lot;
that friends are few and far between, and most aren't worth a jot.
That there are many takers, but fewer far who do -
but rather be a doer, and be among the few;
to never be afraid to show somebody that you care,
for love comes back a hundredfold, from here and everywhere.
And it is better far to throw away some love that's lost
than being stingy with your heart, and counting every cost.
For each of you is loved by me in excess, deep and true -
and so I trust you've love to give away your whole life through.
So go, go off into your life and do what you must do,
but always know I'm here to help, and love and listen, too.
Whatever it is you choose to be, Enjoy and do it well,
and remember, whatever or where you are, within my heart you dwell.
Joyce P. Hale - © 7/76
(This is not the complete poem. I omitted a verse
for each one of them individually.)
...with their families: first, Melody with her beloved dog, Merlin;
then Michael and Val with Marcus on the left, then Brianna, Britny and Ashley;
and Marc and Janna with Brandon and Brittney; then Shannon and Jeff with our youngest grandchild, Tyler James.
Last row is Bret and Ashley with Hayleigh, Mylie and Bella; then Whitney and Aaron with Payton.
A friend hears the song in my heart,
and sings it to me when my memory fails.
For my Mother, a beautiful woman.....whom God took home
MY MOTHER, MYSELF
Sadness shared is halved; tears can soothe the heart.
Memories can bring a smile, prayer will peace impart.
Big white fluffy clouds still line the infinite blue sky,
even though a laden soul bids a lifetime love goodbye.
Trees still gently dance and sway, rain comes pouring down.
The moon will rise at twilight, and the earth still spins around.
A loving soul is guided home by angels sent from God above.
Her memories are in my heart - her face, her heart, her love.
© Joyce P. Hale 08/15/2000
Check out A Mother's Path on my site.
MOTHER - The chance to Choose
We do not choose our Mother - she does not choose her child.
And so we do not know if they'll be gentle or rather wild.
We teach them how to nurture, and show them how to care....
to do what's good, and fair, and true by always being there.
We have them such a little time to teach them right from wrong.
We worry, cry, and wring our hands and pray they'll grow up strong.
Sometimes when they are sick we pace the floor from dusk to dawn,
we hold them, love them, kiss their hurts, then suddenly...They're gone!
If only we could have the chance to hear these words so good....
"Go on my child, and pick your Mother, choose the one you would."
Oh, how I wish I'd hear those words before our days are through...
With thankful heart and loving words - this child would point to You!
© Joyce P. Hale
An admonition to my children and grandchildren......
Sixteen! That magical, starry age, when everything looks bright;
when all the world lies at your feet, and you're on the mountain height!
My children - in my image made - out of my womb and heart -
upon a journey long and far you are about to start.
Anxious, impatient, impudent, young - all of these are you.
Happiness, tears, sunshine and rain - all these you must go through.
Truly, I pray your road lies straight, that joy and love abound;
that when you stop a while to rest, a haven may be found.
Think well of yourself, be honest, learn to depend on you.
Give love, and it will return tenfold; but take care who you hand it to.
Sixteen! That golden, mixed-up age! When many things are new.
I want you to know I'm always here, to love and comfort you.
Love, your Mother and Grandmother © Joyce P. Hale
A child in time, a life to mold;
a blackboard bare if truth be told.
What forms a mind is hard to say,
but certain things will line the way.
A child will thrive on discipline;
don't let them set the rules.
Praise them when they're kind, and good,
don't talk to them like fools.
By fair example show them
compassion, and how to share;
to stand up for the helpless,
and what strength there is in prayer.
That thoughts and actions are what count,
not color of the eye or skin.
There's bad and good in every group;
clear voices rise above the din.
We start to die the day we're born;
but in between those days,
we can make a difference clear -
So live your life with love, always.
© Joyce P. Hale
This beautiful collage was presented to me by a friend.
The top photo is of a back corner of our property,
one misty, sunny morning as the sun rose.
The photos with my Mother poem are of my Mom, my
Mom and Dad, and of my Mom and me long ago. (:D
My Mother was taken home by God August 2000.
She was a wonderful, sweet woman who is greatly missed,
but she was at peace, and her memory will always be
in my heart. I Love You, Mom.
Copyright © 1998 through 2013 Joyce Petrosky-Hale.
Poetry and graphics contained on these pages were created
by me, or are credited or linked to their creators or are,
to the best of my knowledge, public domain property or
purchased clipart/images. Please let me know if any of them
need credit! Please do NOT copy poetry or graphics from this site
without my permission.
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