Last Mother's Day I offered my services as a poet for hire. Someone commissioned me to write a poem for her birth mother (my client was adopted) and everyone involved was really happy with the result:
Because, as a child, I suspected a grown
mother's hand in the palm of my own,
I determined to find you, to chemically bind you
to blood cells that flowed through my questioning heart.
But the years came and went and I stayed far behind you,
as time sought to keep us apart.
But I knew you were there even when you were not
and our story developed a plot.
I loved nature and sky, my desire to fly,
these affinities were somewhat telling.
It's all in my blood, from my parents applied:
I went skydiving, tucked in your belly!
You knew all along I was right where I should be,
and yet we eventually would re-
connect with the help of some angels in Scottsdale.
Chicago, just hours from my own hometown,
was the place I would find you, my search to prevail,
and my sorrows to finally drown.
During all of the time in my life that has spanned,
I had yearned for my blood mother's hand.
Now your words, so soft-spoken and gentle, construe
a relationship, paused, between mother and child.
Most kids love only one mom, but I, blessed with two,
find the time I spent waiting beguiled.
I'm so glad to have found you, just right when I did
For us never to meet? God forbid.
But it's not about blood, as my first mother taught me,
it's all about heart, and in that, we are rife!
So I thank you for all of the joy that you've brought me;
I love having you in my life.
Then life got busy and I sort of put that venture on a back burner, but I'm thinking about making my Poet for Hire services available again and to accept STEEM! Honestly, I don't expect such a business to make me rich. But my friends sometimes ask me to write them a poem, so why not make the offer available for everyone?
I can write either metered/rhymed poetry or free verse. Here's a recent example of that:
Rain drops into my hand like change.
Slippery coins, spent in a moment,
trickle down my wrist and drip,
plopping to puddles at my feet.
Wind lifts my hair like hands.
Braiding with gentle, ginger fingers
the fighting, flying strands that hang limp
when the breeze has passed.
Sunsets leave my gaze like friends.
Laughing teeth and lips can close
as shoulders turn and plans flutter down
like petals in the dusk of the day.
I can also write limericks -- this one is from last year:
There once was a barkeep quite sinister.
When he wanted a girl, he just Guinness'd her.
But the women he smirched
got converted and churched
so he changed his vocation to minister!
What would I charge? Hm, let's just say... that's negotiable. 😀 If you'd like a poem written for either you or a loved one, let me know in the comments. And now, I'm off to set up my typewriter at the nearest farmers' market!
