supplied the prompt
Motherhood is complex, mixing all emotion,
Partly irritation, partly great devotion!
Is this a Mother full of care, bent over with the chores,
Or is this a Mother dancing with the children she adores?
A real-life Mother, somewhere, is rushing, fretting, stressed,
Busy in the morning getting children fed and dressed;
She will view this statuette as indicative of worry,
Children 'dragging at her skirts', chivvying them to hurry.
But, somewhere else, another Mother's in a happy mood,
Dancing with her children, happy with her brood.
She'll view the statuette and see a love that knows no bounds;
A vision of that special bond that engulfs us and astounds.
In ebony, the artist has captured bad and good;
That miracle of existence that we know as Motherhood.
IVORY IN IVORY
Florence Ivory, my dears, a dentist of renown,
Pictured in her surgery, in her working gown.
And ivory is the photograph that someone took of her
For this was 1917, and that was how things were.
Sepia always brings a certain melancholy air,
Because it makes it harder to pretend that we were there.
Colour-photography blares forth and seems so up-to-date,
But sepia demands we gaze and really contemplate.
We become aware of
and we realise that she Florence
Was one female among dentists and quite a rarity.
What mad ambition drove her to study such a craft?
No doubt the other ladies looked a bit askance and laughed.
And look at that machinery; those nasties made for drilling!
And what if there were burly men who thrashed about, unwilling?
How did she cope with all those roots that needed such brute force?
For the helping hand of pain relief was very rare, of course.
She looks a girl to reckon with, and so does her assistant!
I'm sure one could rely on them if pain were too persistant!
Your history, in
, is quite unknown to me, Pittsburgh
But I like this ivory picture, Miss Florence Ivory.