Another trip down memory lane poets?

my memories take me to other places

my mother raised all 8 of us and then she did her best with the grandkids that were close enough, before she succumbed to her fatal heart disease.

I learned to cook at the age of 10 and by the time I was 12 I was the chief cook and bottle washer, until I left at age 14,I baked 12 loaves of bread EVERY weekend, and the ingredients were salt sugar shortening yeast... never measured accurately, salt in the palm of the hand was a teaspoon... I miss my mother terribly and this is a nice poem describing your love of your mother.

I enjoyed the read about something simple yet lovingly done. My only critique is the last stanza. Maybe just: 'like the buttermilk bisquits she still bakes'

I love you Mom, while never said enough in a poem becomes cliched to me and the words you wrote already imply that. That's my two sense! lol

Mr. Lott this poem stole my heart. It reminds me of one I wrote about my grandma. I am a mother and a grandmother. Your mother must be or has been oh so proud of such a fine son. I give this poem a 7 on a 1 to 10 rating....10 the highest/

I hope my children will remember me like that....even though I never baked them buttermilk biscuits...maybe for my out-of-tune Singing, while I glide from room to room!

Sweet sentiments...more prosaic than poetic...but its feelings that be measured...not the sweetness of buttermilk cookies :))

I got a big ole smile reading this.

She didn't measure.

Her experience did it for her << Reminds me of when my Nan cooks. It always used to fascinate me too (still does actually)

Lovely :-)

Your memories embrace us all.

As your Mother's baking

Embraced you.

Watching her,

hearing the hymns,

the beauty in her movements

All of that

keeping you safe.

I watched my grandma do the same but with one arm that wouldn't bend. Never stopped her from doing anything.

Lovely.x.

My mother cooked until I had it pretty much second nature- it cracks me up how people who don't cook can be so amazed by it.

...now this is why life is kept close to my heart and the badges of honor are forever reborn

My words can't do your poem justice.

But I will say that your Mom should be proud.