Defining Mama (One)

Oct 10

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Mama at The Sink

Defining Mama (One)

…by the warmth of a cheek
melting onto your waking face
tearless and loving ― during
an early morning embrace.

…by the smell of her cookies.
..by the size of her butt
leaning over a sink ― scrubbing
insecticide off a carrot.

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Hear this on chirbit

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This was posted for Monday Morning Writing Prompt–Comfort Food .
Also posted on:

#324 – Parent

I chose this poem because there is nothing for comfort food like mama’s cookies, and carrots are a whole other genre of comfort food. I wrote this back in the early 90’s but changed it a bit recently.

Photo Credit: Bat-Ami Gordin © 2011 all rights reserved, credit if you use it, please.

About zongrik

For those of you who do not know the handle "zongrik," that would be Bat-Ami Gordin. Most people call me "Tammy." Bat-Ami means "daughter of my nation" in Hebrew. It's a heavy name to carry around. I answer to either name. I also answer to "mama." Some Basic Things about me: Animal lover, mom, poet/writer, dramatic soprano, photographer, teacher/tutor, CERT/Technician and, oh yeah, aerospace engineer. I consider myself "The Astro-Poet." To learn more about the origins of the word "zongrik" see whats-a-zongrik?

Posted on October 10, 2011, in http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/, Monday Morning Writing Prompt, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.

  1. liv2write2day | October 10, 2011 at 1:46 pm

    I just love this. Nothing like food seasoned with a mother’s love.

    Reply
  2. siggiofmaine | October 10, 2011 at 2:13 pm

    What a nice tribute to your mother…and her love.
    Thank you so much…very heart warming.
    I could feel the love.

    ☮ Siggi in Downeast Maine

    Reply
    • zongrik | October 10, 2011 at 3:05 pm

      It’s not a tribute to my mother at all. My mother never baked a cookie in her life. It’s really about me and my kids loving my cookies. It’s more fun to make the cookies with them. One time, I was visiting my GF from HS and it was just before Christmas, she lived upstate NY, and I was going to get on a plane the next day, to go back to Seattle, and she and I made cookies together.

      It’s like my ADHD poem which people think is about me having patience for some kid, and it’s about me not having patience because I have ADHD, worse than my kids do!!

      Reply
      • siggiofmaine | October 10, 2011 at 4:22 pm

        Thanks for the update on my misunderstanding…When I read you post, I was thinking how different your mother was than mine…
        I am so sorry that I keep misunderstanding what you write…patience is not one of my virtues, and my mother had less than I do.
        I thought that was a photo of your mother at the sink, that is where my mother would have been…and I would have been severely chastised for posting a photo of her back too.
        Please, keep me straight when I make an error like this. I admire your candor in straightening out my misunderstandings.

        ☮ Siggi in Downeast Maine

        Reply
        • zongrik | October 10, 2011 at 6:14 pm

          My mother spends a lot of time at the sink, and this could be typical shot of her. But it’s not her, it’s someone who posed for me so I could have this shot. It’s exactly the pose I want to go with the poem, and it was so good that it fooled you into thinking it’s my mother. 🙂

          Reply
  3. terri0729 | October 10, 2011 at 3:38 pm

    I loved this poem, lol!!! Reminds me of my mom or one of her many sisters. Nice job Zonrik! Blessings, Terri

    Reply
  4. terri0729 | October 10, 2011 at 3:41 pm

    LOL! I just read your reponse after leaving my comment. That makes it even funnier 🙂 ha-ha.

    Reply
  5. Harshad | October 10, 2011 at 7:10 pm

    Scrubbing of carrots…. wow, you have captured love in action! Great piece.

    Reply
  6. vivinfrance | October 10, 2011 at 11:15 pm

    Clever girl, you had us all fooled! Nice poem, good thoughts.

    Reply
  7. mish | October 11, 2011 at 12:09 pm

    There’s nothing to beat the smell of home-made cookies … (not that it happens in my house, I’m not a person who bakes … my sister is the family baker and her kitchen always smells delicious)
    My entry at http://writer-in-transit.co.za/loaves-4-u/

    Reply
  8. Inside the Mind of Isadora | October 11, 2011 at 12:40 pm

    Mama’s home cooked anything spelled comfort.
    Very nice,
    Isadora

    my entry to Victoria’s MMWP:
    http://insidethemindofisadora.wordpress.com/2011/06/23/gourmet-cuisine-to-fill-every-hunger/

    Reply
  9. brian miller | October 11, 2011 at 4:39 pm

    you leave me with smiles…mama holds a special place in my heart and you evoke it well in your words…what is this i write science and not you tonight..ha…

    Reply
  10. Bodhirose | October 12, 2011 at 11:19 am

    That’s the way many of us remember our mothers–at the sink or at least in the kitchen–making food to comfort her family.

    I love your charming poem, Bat-Ami!

    Reply
  11. johnallenrichter | October 12, 2011 at 7:35 pm

    Oh my mother would have had a heart attack if she ever saw me eating a fruit or vegetable without scrubbing it first! Your poem is definitely how I wold describe Mama!

    Reply
  12. Judy Roney | June 24, 2012 at 7:25 pm

    I love this and what it says about your mom. The size of her butt made me smile. I think my kids would say they remembered that about me if they had your gift for words. 🙂

    Reply
  13. sreeja | June 25, 2012 at 4:25 am

    It’s wonderful…and that feeling gives you so much security and comfort…..now away from my mom I realize it more…

    Reply
  14. missalister | June 25, 2012 at 1:03 pm

    Great little ditty, gotta love “…by the size of her butt” ’cause it generally works across the board : D

    Reply
  15. dani | June 25, 2012 at 11:00 pm

    LOVE this, Tammy! thanks for the smile! ♥

    Reply

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