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Award winning Black American author Evelyn Allen Johnson has always counted writing among her greatest passions.

novels

Award winning Black American author Evelyn Allen Johnson has always counted writing among her greatest passions.

Evelyn Allen Johnson logo
novels
Memories of Mother Estella Allen

Dear Mother, there’s much of you to remember,
Like your strength, your love and courage,
When widowed in the midst of a great depression,
You were left to raise three little daughters,
Two months, eighteen months and five years.

We remember that last promise,
You made your dying husband,
That his three girls would have college educations,
The Goal you set to together.

We remember that you were the first lady,
In our neighborhood, to dare and drive a car,
And how you kept us near, where ever you would go.
And everybody knew, if they invited you,
We came first inside,
Although sometimes, we were the wrecking crew.

We remember the way you loved the children,
Everybody’s children.
Our door was always open, they knew just where to come,
For food, for love or shelter, when forgotten, or
Left out in the cold.
And at our house, faithful Santa left toys, for all our friends.

We remember that you were always there,
When anyone needed help,
Like an emergency trip to the Doctor,
A lift to the old car line,
Or just plain refuge for a frightened, battered wife.
And everyone knew just what to do when anyone home
Fell sick, in the bright of day, or late in the middle of night.
“Mrs. Allen! Mrs. Allen!’ the phone rang out,
Or the messenger came,
And you rushed there but quick.

We remember how with love, you’d rush us off to school,
Stuffed with Oatmeal or Cream of Wheat, a kiss, and don’t be late.
We remember running home for lunch,
And there was always good hot soup.
And when the snow was deep and it was bitter cold,
Or the rain was falling fierce,
We’d look out the school house window,
And it was you bearing a good hot lunch.
And all the teachers knew you, and
That your daughters were there to learn.
They had your cooperation,
But you were also the NAACP.

We remember the whiz you were with that old sewing machine,
When off to school in the morning, so often we might say,
“Oh, Mother Dear, the party’s tonight,
And I haven’t a thing to wear!”
And then, just a little bit later, upon returning home from school,
We’d find the latest teenage fashion,
Cut from your favorite gown.

We remember how often you would say,
“Forget about the dishes, study, do your homework,
And your dreams might just come true.”

And most of all, we do remember the encouragement you would give
All things were possible with prayer and a good strong will.
After a talk with you, a mountain was easily moved.

We remember you sending us off to Sunday school,
Planning little Birthday parties, and canning
All those fruits we’d pick, wild in the woods.

And we remember Mother, that you were always there,
Seeing us through our childhood illnesses, music
And dancing lessons, track meets, and good old camping trips.

We remember so much that came from your heart,
Your laughter, your unselfishness,
Those hymns you used to sing,
And most of all your love.

And Mother, we remember, your special quick little walk,
With that purse tucked up under your arm,
Business was about to start.

We remember Mother, that you kept a promise,
And your love and sacrifices were indeed not wasted.
Because we shall remember,
Your spirit will last forever, throughout generations.
God blessed us to have you for our Mother.

Memories of Mother
Estella Allen

Dear Mother, there’s much of you to remember, Like your strength, your love and courage, When widowed in the midst of a great depression, You were left to raise three little daughters, Two months, eighteen months and five years.

We remember that last promise, You made your dying husband, That his three girls would have college educations, The Goal you set to together.

We remember that you were the first lady, In our neighborhood, to dare and drive a car, And how you kept us near, where ever you would go. And everybody knew, if they invited you, We came first inside, Although sometimes, we were the wrecking crew.

We remember the way you loved the children, Everybody’s children. Our door was always open, they knew just where to come, For food, for love or shelter, when forgotten, or Left out in the cold. And at our house, faithful Santa left toys, for all our friends.

We remember that you were always there, When anyone needed help, Like an emergency trip to the Doctor, A lift to the old car line, Or just plain refuge for a frightened, battered wife. And everyone knew just what to do when anyone home Fell sick, in the bright of day, or late in the middle of night. “Mrs. Allen! Mrs. Allen!’ the phone rang out, Or the messenger came, And you rushed there but quick.

We remember how with love, you’d rush us off to school, Stuffed with Oatmeal or Cream of Wheat, a kiss, and don’t be late.

We remember running home for lunch, And there was always good hot soup. And when the snow was deep and it was bitter cold, Or the rain was falling fierce, We’d look out the school house window, And it was you bearing a good hot lunch. And all the teachers knew you, and That your daughters were there to learn. They had your cooperation, But you were also the NAACP.

We remember the whiz you were with that old sewing machine, When off to school in the morning, so often we might say, “Oh, Mother Dear, the party’s tonight, And I haven’t a thing to wear!” And then, just a little bit later, upon returning home from school, We’d find the latest teenage fashion, Cut from your favorite gown.

 We remember how often you would say, “Forget about the dishes, study, do your homework, And your dreams might just come true.”

And most of all, we do remember the encouragement you would give All things were possible with prayer and a good strong will. After a talk with you, a mountain was easily moved.

We remember you sending us off to Sunday school, Planning little Birthday parties, and canning All those fruits we’d pick, wild in the woods.

And we remember Mother, that you were always there, Seeing us through our childhood illnesses, music And dancing lessons, track meets, and good old camping trips.

We remember so much that came from your heart, Your laughter, your unselfishness, Those hymns you used to sing, And most of all your love.

And Mother, we remember, your special quick little walk, With that purse tucked up under your arm, Business was about to start.

We remember Mother, that you kept a promise, And your love and sacrifices were indeed not wasted. Because we shall remember, Your spirit will last forever, throughout generations. God blessed us to have you for our Mother.

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Memories of Mother Estella Allen

Evelyn Allen Johnson signature

Contact us Today!

Memories of Mother Estella Allen poem

Dear Mother, there’s much of you to remember, Like your strength, your love and courage, When widowed in the midst of a great depression, You were left to raise three little daughters, Two months, eighteen months and five years.

We remember that last promise, You made your dying husband, That his three girls would have college educations, The Goal you set to together.

We remember that you were the first lady, In our neighborhood, to dare and drive a car, And how you kept us near, where ever you would go. And everybody knew, if they invited you, We came first inside, Although sometimes, we were the wrecking crew.

We remember the way you loved the children, Everybody’s children. Our door was always open, they knew just where to come, For food, for love or shelter, when forgotten, or Left out in the cold. And at our house, faithful Santa left toys, for all our friends.

We remember that you were always there, When anyone needed help, Like an emergency trip to the Doctor, A lift to the old car line, Or just plain refuge for a frightened, battered wife. And everyone knew just what to do when anyone home Fell sick, in the bright of day, or late in the middle of night. “Mrs. Allen! Mrs. Allen!’ the phone rang out, Or the messenger came, And you rushed there but quick.

We remember how with love, you’d rush us off to school, Stuffed with Oatmeal or Cream of Wheat, a kiss, and don’t be late.

We remember running home for lunch, And there was always good hot soup. And when the snow was deep and it was bitter cold, Or the rain was falling fierce, We’d look out the school house window, And it was you bearing a good hot lunch. And all the teachers knew you, and That your daughters were there to learn. They had your cooperation, But you were also the NAACP.

We remember the whiz you were with that old sewing machine, When off to school in the morning, so often we might say, “Oh, Mother Dear, the party’s tonight, And I haven’t a thing to wear!” And then, just a little bit later, upon returning home from school, We’d find the latest teenage fashion, Cut from your favorite gown.

 We remember how often you would say, “Forget about the dishes, study, do your homework, And your dreams might just come true.”

And most of all, we do remember the encouragement you would give All things were possible with prayer and a good strong will. After a talk with you, a mountain was easily moved.

We remember you sending us off to Sunday school, Planning little Birthday parties, and canning All those fruits we’d pick, wild in the woods.

And we remember Mother, that you were always there, Seeing us through our childhood illnesses, music And dancing lessons, track meets, and good old camping trips.

We remember so much that came from your heart, Your laughter, your unselfishness, Those hymns you used to sing, And most of all your love.

And Mother, we remember, your special quick little walk, With that purse tucked up under your arm, Business was about to start.

We remember Mother, that you kept a promise, And your love and sacrifices were indeed not wasted. Because we shall remember, Your spirit will last forever, throughout generations. God blessed us to have you for our Mother.

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