These Mom Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Mom. These are the best examples of Mom Couplet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Ride with me on my time machine to a different time and place
Return with me and let me see if I can put a smile upon your face
To the days of AM radio and the TV was black and white
To lying in a grassy field and counting stars at night
Popcorn and soda in the balcony at a Saturday matinee
Parades led by the High School Band on Decoration Day
Dressing up and going door to door on the night of Halloween
Cigarettes rolled in your shirt, pretending to be James Dean
Pep rallies before the football games, everybody stand and cheer
Going in the woods with your friends at night, sharing a quart of beer
That feeling inside, turning red, when she smiled at you at the dance
Wanting to kiss her goodnight, but you were afraid to take a chance
Playing chase tag at night in the neighborhood, hiding behind a tree
Holding hands with your first steady, so all your friends could see
Medicine Show at the end of town in a giant canvas tent
Saving pennies for a rainy day, fasting on candy for Lent
Going for a Sunday ride with Mom and Dad in the family car
Playing in the yard at night, putting lightning bugs in a jar
Drag racing on that long stretch of road, Chevy was hard to beat
Stealing peaches from a neighbor’s tree, always seemed so sweet
Riding bikes all over town, never knowing the meaning of fear
Identifying cars by their tail lights, make and model and year
News and Stooges at the theatre before the movie starts
Valentine’s day I love you written on tiny candy hearts
Easter bonnets and picking flowers for Mom on Mother’s Day
Opening day at the community pool the last weekend in May
Sock hop in the auditorium, collar up, trying to play it cool
Meeting friends at the usual place, everyday after school
Six for a quarter on the juke box, music that would move your soul
Return with me now to those glory days and the birth of rock and roll.
'Twas our Christmas Eve dinner; we all had sat down
at the table to eat. Grandma couldn’t be found!
We children were fussing; Dad rose to his feet.
shouting, “Where are you, Ma? We’re ready to eat!”
When from the next room we heard such a noise
Jenny squealed, “Santa Claus must have brought toys!”
We then heard a sound like a whimpering pup
saying, “Help. I’ve fallen and cannot get up.”
Grandpa jumped up and then rushed to the door
that led to the bathroom. There on the floor
lay our poor grandma, eyes widened in fear,
looking like she’d got run over by reindeer!
The dresser had fallen. It had her pinned down.
Grandma was wildly flailing around.
More swiftly than Rudolph, we did all we were able.
We unpinned her. Then Mom yelled, “Back to the table!”
Back to the dining room all we kids came
As our mom started to call us by name.
“Davy, Mel, Jenny, Angie, Marie. . .
Get back here now. I’m counting to three!”
Like animals not having eaten all day,
stuck in a cage without getting their way,
we sat at that table our bellies all growling,
and Davy, the baby, by now was howling.
And then finally what did appear?
Dad with our grandpa and grandma so dear!
Supported by both our grandpa and dad,
Grandma was flushed and looking quite bad.
She was dressed in a housecoat trimmed in white lace
and a big purple bruise had now formed on her face.
Mom pulled out a chair helping Grandma to sit,
and then our dad bellowed, “OK, have at it!”
Our mouths how they watered to see the large ham.
“And that isn’t all,” said Mom, “I made lamb!”
Her small pretty mouth was turned up in a grin,
“The food’s getting cold now. Children, dig in.”
Our dad how he laughed as he poured lots of gravy
onto his potatoes and kidded with Davy.
And Grandma sat smiling despite her great fall
while Grandpa gulped spiked nog, not talking at all.
With eyes that seemed bigger than my own belly,
I dished out big spoonfuls of cranberry jelly.
Mom winked and I knew I had nothing to dread.
Her pleasure was in us all being well fed.
I went straight to work at stuffing my face
when suddenly Mom said, “We didn’t say grace!”
We closed our eyes listening to our dad’s prayer.
I peeked but was met by my mom’s warning stare!
Dad finished the prayer with a hearty Amen.
Then we were all grabbing Mom’s fixings again.
When the food had all vanished and our stomachs hurt,
we heard Dad exclaim, “So what’s for dessert?”
For Francine Roberts' "Christmas Dinner With Humor" Poetry contest
Pop was quite a poet,
though his bio wouldn’t show it,
with the exception of this little poem
which I really do feel I owe him.
He was happiest working in the wood,
and did so when ere he could.
That was one of his necessary incomes,
for his five daughters and four sons.
It was then he would sing a song,
Always short and politically wrong.
The rhymes could make us boys smile,
If not but for just a little while.
In the woods he was a self educated master,
He loved it there; peace is what he was after,
Everywhere else, us boys were a bit wary,
His temper trigger was a little hairy.
Brought up roughly, a Canadian farmer’s son,
A machine gunner in the Second Big One,
I never heard those gruesome stories very often,
Only when he allowed his heart to soften.
PTSD and nightmares were his living hell,
complicated with Malaria fevers as well.
With depression a formidable resistance,
He farmed for his family’s existence.
In good moments he would sing poems of an alter life,
Where there was, obviously, no such strife,
Of “when he would go swimmin
With many bull legged wimmin”.
Those feeling good songs rang out loud and gay,
To keep his painful depression at bay.
“Yes ... we have no bannaners,
We have no bannaners today!”
Canadian French was his language norm,
So many of his songs took that form.
I’m sure Mom was his best and biggest fan,
She must have really loved that man.
He had a hard life and his song poems helped him through,
We were often at odds but he did what I could never do.
An unknown hard man with a well hidden poetic heart,
I don’t think he knew it, but Mom did from the start.
For each of his children’s names, he made a French rhyme,
Making the most of poetic license for each of his nine.
They probably weren’t politically correct…
But at least for that one moment,
we .. Each of us ... were his elect.
( Dedicated to the memory of
Rene Francis Dufresne 1917-1998 )
written by Bob Dufresne 6/5/11
In mind's eye I reminisce, watching children play
of a spring day sitting here, seeing my children play
blessed to see their smiles, when they hit, slid or fell
A happy day begin playing ball, in this story I will tell
A kiss and hug I get, dad please take us to the fair
Seeing the rides, ooh's, awe's echo from our pair
Eating fried dough, peanuts, "Boy! see the games over there"
We're playing with family and friends, as they make a dare
Can't miss any ride that twists, mixes, spins or flys in the air
There's so much to see, ride and play with, in a day at the fair
Hearing "thanks mom and dad" that night, walking to the car
"Stay awake" they say as we move, you know they can't get far
This day all started with thoughts of fun, smiles and laughs
both asleep, with their dreams, today, mom and dad can laugh
Any poem you posted during this month of* APRIL ~except ~ No! No! Bunny poems, or Easter poems..NOR other contest entries.
entered by Tom Larrow
< I really hate to do laundry
Why can't it be hands free ?
A mother's holiday should be everyday,
To show you the thanks I wish to repay.
A million word poem could never consist,
Of all that you do - a lifetime of lists.
So Ill keep it short - a miniature report.
To convey my gratitude for all your support.
Preparing this thank-you, builds tears in my eyes.
The bulletproof bond we share never dies.
Countless memories we've made as a pair,
Has given me more than I can compare
Your lessons of chivalry I've cherished so dear.
You've molded my heart to love with no fear.
Your lullaby songs that put me to sleep,
Created a herd of infinite sheep.
Happy Mother's Day Mom, I hope you enjoy.
Much love from your son, your grown baby boy.
- Yours Truly
Oh mom I see the blood.
It runs from your nose like a flood.
I cannot run or even hide.
I am screaming inside.
Why is he after me.
I am too little to flee.
I cannot scream or cry loud.
Oh God who am I now.
Where are you mom for I fear.
Oh God, I need you near.
I am so confused.
I too have been abused.
Mom I see an Angel near.
Now we have nothing to fear.
Why did he do these things to us...
Edward J. Ebbs :(
Year 1974,75 and 77 was the years for me.
That's when I decided to have just my three.
Those three were give to me by our Lord above.
Since the day they were born they've filled my
heart with joy and love.
When they were born I was in a wheelchair.
Just to have them I knew life was fair.
I was as close to them as a mom could be.
They were my all my wonderful three.
I have two boys and a girl.
With those three lifes been a whirl.
Their all grown-up now with kids of their own.
Now all they do is cry and moan.
They say I'm the best mom and grandmother.
Cause to them I'm like no other.
Entered in Waylee Whitlock's"My children"contest
Gobs of happiness, bundles of joy!
My sister turned out to be a boy
Mom said, “Welcome your little brother!”
She'd been promising me the other
You know! EEEW... a baby sister!
Imagine if I had to kiss her!
Thanks to the stork way up high
If Mom had a girl, I'd probably die!
Sisters don't wrestle or play with guns
They play with dollies, have girlie fun
Glad the way things have turned out
Us guys are buds, there's really no doubt!
I know! I realize they're people too
In fact, some are cute, this is true
But if you're gonna give me my druthers
I would much prefer a baby brother!
The moral is, if you eat your veggies
Your Mom will be happy and never edgy
A contented Mom will usually bear fruit
With a baby boy who'll be cuter than cute!
These are the words of a real little boy
Who won't even try to hide his joy!
He comes right out, it's not a quiz
Boys are superior and that's how it is!
© Jack Ellison 2013
The flour sack, the flour sack!
To my childhood it harkens back...
With the flour at last gone
Mom would use it to sew upon..
Dish towels, aprons , and who knows what
No complaints, our mouths remained firmly shut!
I wouldn't, shouldn't say that we were poor
But flour sack clothing we sometimes wore...
Once she needed a diaper in the worst way
Poor baby's butt was sure sore that day...
I still have a towel made from a sack
Some good old memories it brings back...