Mother Mine (Just our Julie)
poem by:
John Pegg
Written
on Feb 25, 2017
Contemplating, on quiet reflection, Looking back more than half a century, My Mum, bringing up her two children Was a drudge, an unpaid menial servant. To her family, oft' the only breadwinner. Hardly had two pennies to rub together. Depended on good folk's charity, With second-hand hand-me-downs And church and school jumble sales. My Father was a chronic asthmatic, Worked in dusty conditions; a collier. Illness meant he spent times at home Dragging his finger nails like cat claws, Scoring the paint on his bedroom door As he endured another breathless attack. Sickness benefit then merely pennies. The shopping done on weekly credit. Our home's furniture and fittings frugal. Much worn, the G-plan or late Victorian. The floors a patchwork of brittle oilcloth And pegged-rugs made from scrap material. Nevertheless she kept the house spotless, With her elbow grease, much spit and polish. Given to carrying to the backyard coalhouse, By bucket, a delivery of concessionary coal, Toiling daily like the proverbial workhorse. Her spirit to work unstintingly, magnificent. The tenacity of a Staffordshire bull terrier. Yet as one so poor she had such dignity. To me she remains a pearl beyond price.
Tags: happy, love, inspirational, deep,
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Christopher Russon commented:
A lovely poem john the days before the internet mobile phones .I remember half a century
Ago the days when the little things in life truly did mean a lot.
Cecilia Crasto
commented:
What a wonderful tribute to a mother from a grateful son, these days kids are given everything but they they do not appreciate it maybe they want love instead...very moving poem.
Frank Hornby .
commented:
My mother, like yours John, had to survive on very little money, as there was no benefits, only family allowance.......sometimes working two low paying jobs ....with four young boys , and housework....my god, mums worked so hard in those days....I loved the poem John.....
