Badgerblog

For our Spring Holiday Poem Card Contest and in honor of Mother’s Day this Sunday, we asked our 170 Badgerdog writers to wax poetic about the women they call Mom. We received more than 120 poems celebrating the strength, wisdom, and beauty of mothers who sing songs and wash flip flops, mothers with skin so soft and eyes that shine in the sun, mothers who work too hard, and one mother, who, if she were an animal would be a cat. We’ve selected the three poems that moved us most with their artistry, insight, and vision, and we’ll be publishing these on the Badgerblog this week. On Wednesday, we’ll announce the winning poem, which will also be distributed in restaurants across the city, so if you’re taking mom to brunch on Sunday, you may find a beautiful piece of poetry—an ode to mothers—tucked inside your check.

Today we present one of our finalists, a poem from Adonis at Hornsby-Dunlap Elementary School. With great honesty and humor, it celebrates the unconditional love mothers wield, and stern protection that flares up when we ask for too much. Congratulations, Adonis!

Motorcycle Mom

My mom always sticks with me.
I can always say I had the best birthday.
With her smooth hands, she pats me
___on the back when I can’t sleep.
I can remember her saying, “You, my son,
___you can be anything you want to be.”
I asked her, “Can I be a singer?” Yes!
“Can I own a motorcycle?”
She looked at me. “Are you serious?
___Come on. You want a motorcycle?
___Over my dead body.”

Adonis, third grade, Hornsby-Dunlap Elementary School

With words, we can remake not only our experiences and memories, but our entire selves. We can re-sculpt and replace and give ourselves all the glory or absurdity we demand. This week’s Badgerblog selection invites us to do just that—to discard our usual appearances and revise ourselves however we choose. Many thanks to Brandon at Hornsby-Dunlap Elementary for reminding us that we are what we choose to become, and we can reinvent ourselves whenever we like.

Any Face

What’s the matter with the sun as your face?
And books as eyes?
And a nose made of dimes?

If you had the right to make your face,
What would your face have?
Would it be like mine?
Or different?

You decide what it will be
And if you don’t like it,
Make a new one.

Brandon, third grade, Hornsby-Dunlap Elementary School

A tall crying black space
flies over my head
and I do not know what to do.

Douglas, fourth grade, Hornsby-Dunlap Elementary School