Best Poems About / On DAUGHTER
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157.
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the good daughter
having made her way out of the nest
having made something of herself
she rubs elbows with some of the city's finest lawyers
balancing her own practice with a sad attempt at having a social life-
she calls home to her mother,
whom she visits every weekend upstate,
doing her grocery shopping &
doing whatever she can for her,
the whole while listening to a constant critique of
where she should be at the age that she is-
her mother insists that her daughter will not stay young forever,
saying she has no fashion sense,
always points out that she should try to go to the gym more often &
never ceasing to make time to moan about wishing that she had grandchildren,
asking why a woman who is as successful as her daughter
cannot find a man-
the daughter doesn't respond with anger & instead
stays up at night when mother has fallen asleep
working on cases &
watching her remaining youth drift away,
hundreds of miles away from the city she lives in
the other five days of the week-
her mother's own cervical cancer which was recently detected
now is spreading &
she is meeting with doctors in the coming weeks to begin radiation-
her daughter hopes that surgery is possible &
wonders if the operation will force her mother into a more compromised position
where she will no longer be able to live on her own-
the daughter's life could very well be uprooted altogether &
she could find herself stuck back in her home town
waiting on her mother hand & foot,
while still pretending to be able to practice law-
the clock is ticking &
her friends in the city
watch their lives prosper,
moving on in ways that this daughter
can really only dream of,
being weighed down by something
she never counted on happening
when she put it all in motion-
ever the more exhausted,
she started drinking a lot of coffee,
then moved onto caffeine pills &
after energy drinks & the lot didn't work,
she moved onto a little coke to try & get herself
through-
she tells herself that she won't need it forever,
that it's just for now
so that she can balance all that is happening in her life.
andrew delapruch
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158.
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Sandy
Sandy found a boy to love,
The captain of the team.
Her mother said she didn't like
The boy she thought a dream.
Sandy found a dress to wear
To her Junior-Senior Prom.
Her mother said she hated it.
Yes, that was Sandy's mom.
Sandy wore it anyway.
The boys thought she was cool.
Her mother said how she behaved
Made any girl a fool.
Sandy stayed out all night long.
Her mom paced to and fro.
Where her daughter was that night
No one would ever know.
Sandy saw the light of day.
How did the party end?
And where was he, the boy she loved
And took for her best friend?
Sandy found she was alone.
Her love had gone away.
Now she knew it mattered,
What her mom had to say.
Sandy had a daughter and
She loved her oh so true!
Then her daughter fell in love.
Was nothing really new?
Sandy waited half the night.
She cried, as you may know.
Then her daughter came back home
And giggled at her flow.
Sandy wiped her tears away,
And smiled a little too;
Thankful for her daughter's fate
At finding love so true.
Yes, Sandy found a boy to love.
The captain of the team.
The one that brought her daughter home.
The one, she thought a dream.
GREENWOLFE 1962
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159.
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We, the Women
On the 100th Anniversary of Womens Right To Vote In California
Centenary greetings to the daughters of the suffragettes.
We are all daughters of the suffragettes.
Our history goes back
farther than a hundred years;
back to when this country was conceived
in the womb of justice and dedicated to the ideal of equality;
back to the colonial hearths of mothers
who strengthened and nourished
the bodies of their sons and daughters to carry forth.
We are the daughters of the founding daughters:
Elizabeth Ross, Abigail Adams, Martha Washington,
pilgrims and pioneers, slaves, sharecroppers,
the indentured and the unbound.
We speak the same language, in the same tongue -
an unbroken chant clamoring to be free.
We speak as Elizabeth Stanton spoke.
We say what Susan Anthony said.
We declare that which Lucretia Mott declared.
We shout what Sojourner Truth shouted.
As one, we hold this sacred vow,
We shall vote.
Carrying the Yellow Silk Banner
Maud Younger, Katherine Ballentine, Charlotta Bass
and thousands strong sallied forth
across the Golden State
town to town, county to county, house to house
proclaiming Votes for Women
We shall be free.
We the women, we the wives, the mothers,
the sisters, the workers, the thinkers, the builders -
We the daughters of the suffragettes -
We the body politic -
We the women. Free at last!
(Santa Barbara - 2011)
Sojourner Kincaid Rolle
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160.
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Suffocated
Millie Allstruck suffocated
Her daughter. Millie held
The cushion down. Saw her
Daughters arms flap like
Some bird in a trap. Millie
Held her breath for as long
As she could, until the arms
Stopped flapping, until her
Bird was dead. She stood
There holding the cushion
In place waiting for sounds,
Any motion. Millie removed
The cushion, stood gaping,
Holding the cushion, breathing
In deep. Her daughter lay there
Staring into space, a sense of
Peace on her three year old face.
Millie had pushed out the cancer,
Put out the fire. She had her
Daughter back sans pains, sans
The creeping disease, sans
The long nights. She put down
The cushion, placed her daughters
Arms across her small chest, closed
The eyes, brushed the hair, thin
And fair. Millie Allstruck stood
And watched and saw sunlight
Touch her daughters head as if
The finger of God had touched
And took away. Better to have
Loved and lost than not loved at all,
Millie heard her mother once say.
Terry Collett
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