Mrs Latashka had no money,
Bore 5 girls with her husband Monty;
Sarah was a baby when he went running,
To another woman; says neighbourhood gossip.
Mrs Latashka toiled night and morning,
All kind of jobs, to earn some money;
Never took charity, though neighbors offered,
She trudged through life owning no one nothing.
Mrs Latashka was one of her kind,
Bore 5 girls, whom most saw as burdens;
Ignored all advice- to stop the toiling,
And earn, by getting all 5 girls married.
Mrs Latashka grew old not weary,
Little Sarah had gone off to Uni,
Her joints now weak from all the toiling,
Her face aglow for, she was reaping.
Mrs Latashka had clothed all children,
With education and self dignity,
She lay- her last few breaths escaping,
With the satisfaction, it was all worth it.
It’s been a while I wrote a ballad, thought I’d write one today.
Facebook page: words of a random. let’s connect!
I remember when your tiny hands,
Found their home in mine,
With your body resting lightly,
In between my arms,
The rush each night for more milk,
And the tricks to quieten your cries,
I remember it like yesterday,
The day- you became mine.
And the first time you said mama,
When your feet first hit the floor,
Your first tooth and first tooth gap,
My Jaan I remember it all,
When you said you hated purple,
And we fought at the toy store,
How you’d make up, saying I love you,
My Jaan I remember it all.
But they say it is impossible,
Those nine months’ all that count,
They cannot call me a mother,
Since my womb was not your house.
But I’d give up the “mum” title,
To still have you in my life.
And as great of a job, is birthing,
so is raising a child.
“Are we there yet?”, Jamie’s voice shot up.
“Not yet honey, we only just began like five minutes ago”. His mother replied.
A few steps up the rocky hill, Andrea’s voice shot up,
“We there yet?”
“No love, still got some way to climb, okay?” The mother replied as patiently as she could get her voice to sound.
Five minutes passed in peace with only their crunching footsteps disturbing the sound of Mother Nature when Aaliyah spoke up,
Their mother paused in her tracks and faced Aaliyah with such an intense look, little Aaliyah cowered, her gaze downwards and muttered,
“I only wanted to know if I may have some water please.”
Laughter erupted from both Andrea and Jamie because they were pretty sure that wasn’t reason. But as long as mama was consoled, they kept their mouth shut.
Their mother sighed, beginning to regret ever offering to take them on a hiking trip. She placed her hands on her barely visible bump and said,
“You, better behave once you come out.”
Word count: 173. The above story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge, where each week we are provided with an image and are to write a 75-175 word story in it. Thank you @Pamela S. Canepa for this week’s photo.
Your mama was a strong woman,
She held down every force-
Reckoned it back with words so strong,
That males fell down in awe.
Your mother was so spirited,
It showed in every way-
She’d strut and speak with such passion,
All the crowds turn gay.
And so little girl, it’s always been
Your mama against the world-
But she didn’t care, her head up high-
She thwarted every thorn.
And when asked ‘why do you do that?’
She’d answer back and smile-
So my daughter can proudly say-
“My mama is a strong woman”
“I want to be like her”