A Poem for My Mom on her Birthday 01/29…

I wrote this poem for my Mom’s 52nd birthday last year and I thought it would be fitting to post it on here for all my readers to enjoy! Here goes… Happy Birthday Mom!


My mother. Oh how I love her.

So glad that 52 years ago God saw fit to put Mamie & Norman together.

Didn’t last forever, but from this union was birthed Joyce Renee in the crisp & snowy January weather.

A beautiful black queen, the first of many to ever call Elva granny.

I said the first of many to ever call Elva Searcy Granny and Mamie Lee Mommy.

Comes from the lineage of strong courageous women and when I look at my mother I see no different.

Resilient, confident, loving & human.

My Mama a Proverbs 31 virtuous woman.

She was born in a time when King marched and Malcolm X spoke liberating words of freedom.

Audio of civil rights and riots was the soundtrack to her childhood life.

Grew up family oriented and independent.

Sure of herself and her heart’s intent.

Then life came like a whirlwind.

Twisting & turning her in every which way and became susceptible to a bad influence.

Drug use wreaked havoc on her life until she met one of the few loves of her life.

Tall, caramel skin with good hair and athletic.

The boy had to be Indian because with hair like that he couldn’t be ethnic.

Renee and Rob, a chapter in this book of her life in which the author saw fit to give her 5 kids.

She made up her mind and got clean because she loved her man and her kids.

I said she loved her man and her kids.

5 the number of grace and every child was different in their own way.

Robert Jr. the smart know it all.

Kimberly Mariah. The only girl whose smile could bring down the walls.

Orlando. The one in the middle, the struggle and the one who found serenity in reading his bible.

Brian the great S-P-E-L-L-E-R, the Mama’s boy with a special place for her in his heart.

Quinten Cortez. The baby and cry baby. But not lately.

Won’t forget Bria & Kris, you see those two were his but her family was non exclusive.

Anton, Maurice, T-Hoody all of these were Mom’s children.

Mom and Dad called it splits and it was like the whole family split.

Doing what she had to do sacrificing so that we can stay close knit.

There everyday on her own, working at night coming home just in time to see us on… To school that is.

She had a special bond with all her kids,

I really connected with her when I found out she loved The Wiz!

She gave her life to God for real and has been sold out ever since.

The enemy has tried to come for her and her family but she is just like a tree.

Planted by the rivers of waters!

I shall not be moved.

Be moved by circumstance, finance, bold spirits, the justice system, evictions, convictions and bad decisions.

Taking it all in stride and making the necessary changes while on the ride.

See that’s Mamie’s girl and Elva’s grand girl, she ‘s going to be alright.

She is just like her mama and grandmother and they were both out of sight.

So I stand here on the 29th of January, the day God saw fit to author this story.

What should I get her I asked myself.

God said nothing monetary because things fade.

How about this or how about that?

She gave me life so I gotta get her something to give back.

Realizing that nothing I buy could ever express my indebted gratitude.

So I chose to write this poem for you so you can see how much I admire you from my view!

I love you I do.

You’ve always been there for me.

Never would’ve graduated college if it wasn’t for you.

My Mama, a beautiful quiet soul.

5 kids and I don’t know how you do it but you make everyone of us feel special.

You’re beautiful.

A poet said I think of 80 ways to give your beauty praise.

Hyperbole, a simile, or metaphorically.

But truthfully none of that would suffice because to me you defy description.

And at 52 you’re radiant.

A beauty that some women only get through surgery and a prescriptions.

So no, money wasn’t good enough this year.

The store lacked the detail I was looking for.

But God gave me these words to embed on the tablet that is your heart.

I love you and you’ll always be apart…Of my life that is.

25 backwards and you still killing em! Happy 52nd birthday Mama.

From that one in the middle.

The loner, the graduate, the fixer, the preacher, your 2nd oldest son Paris.


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