Showing posts with label Mothers & Sons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mothers & Sons. Show all posts

Monday, May 2, 2016

Season of Innocence/sense(s)

Today smells like new lilacs
and the warm redbrick
of the library baking slightly
in the springtime glow.

Today looks like my smiling-eyed son
toting a stack of books,
the pep and hop
of his bright, young step next to mine.

Today sounds like the train,
always going somewhere, like we are,
even when standing still.

Today feels like that moment
I recognize
I’ll have only once

--and tastes
like goodnight
on the lips
of a season

better than summer,
innocent and golden.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Memorial Stones

Image URI:

He's gathering up,
one by one, and placing,
the memorial stones.
I can hear it
all through the house.

I press my palm
to the door,
feel his heartbeat
in sobs calling out
from the other side--

ruins beautiful
for the remembering,

and whisper
a mother's prayer
for grief too big
for these hands alone.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Saturday, February 20, 2016

How To Get Rich

(according to my eight-year-old son)

First, manual labor.

Then, buy lots and lots
of football cards

until you get The One
you can sell
for lots of money.

And then, he says, buy more.

He looks over at two
nine-year-old boys walking
toward school
and says, sagaciously,

they don't care about manual labor.

I've heard them talking
when I've been walking home.
All they talk about is video games.

I pull up
to his drop-off.

Mom, what's manual labor?

Physical work, I say,
like building a house.

He nods, gets out for school.

How To Get Rich, For Parents:

First, drive your 8-year-old to school.

And then,
laugh the whole way home.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

football cards on my son's dresser
photo © 2016 Jennifer Wagner
manual labor performed to purchase cards: brushed dog, set table, took out trash
manual labor in order to purchase more: clean room

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Fruit Bat

Grapes, mangoes,
sweet satsumas,
Apples, red.

My son loves fruit
and drinks only water.

We've called him Fruit Bat
since he was 2. He owns it,
with swagger.

Bats:  the only mammal to fly.
I hope he always does that, too.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, November 10, 2015


Photo © 2015 Jennifer Wagner

If smiles light up rooms,
yours lights up a thousand
rooms in my heart-dark-need
for such a beacon.

Yours, my own little
prince of peace.
Yours, my own little
light of the world.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

Saturday, February 21, 2015

the best bouquet

smells like
            of glue

stuck to
            red tissue paper
green pipe cleaners

in a chubby fist

just below


© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

he forgot the (r) in togethe(r)

i didn't point it out
actually, i didn't even notice
but that's how love is,

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

Poem © 2014 Andrew Romero
Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

My eldest son wrote this concrete poem and put it on the door of my room last Mother's Day (on wide strips of tape, not right on the door itself, ha). I have yet to take it down because, well, why take it down? And it is the month of love!

Friday, September 12, 2014

Things I Should Know By Now


something spilled
after mopping.

to not have
brushed teeth,
even with several reminders.

to throw garbage bags
“at” outdoor garbage bin
instead of “in” it.

to fret about being late
worse than
the White Rabbit.

dirty plates,
empty pizza box
where nineteen-year-old


to be loved
despite words
I should not have said
regarding the above.

to repeat.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner