Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Mom Husband Poems | Husband Poems About Mom

These Mom Husband poems are examples of Husband poems about Mom. These are the best examples of Mom Husband poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

123
Details | Rhyme |

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.


Details | List |

10 Things to Eat Instead of Red Meat

Is your go-to lunch roast beef sandwich?
Tomorrow you might want turkey instead
Here is why
In gen. red meat- such as roast beef

Not as healthy as other kinds of protein
Tends to have more cholesterol
Often has more saturated fat
Both things are bad for your heart

Eating too much red meat
May linked to colon cancer
This does not mean
You should never eat beef or other red meats

Just go easy on them
Tasty Swaps
With
Tacos

Try
Fish or chicken
With hamburgers
Try Veggie burgers

With Stir-fry
Try Fried tofu
With lasagna
Try Eggplant slices

With salad
Try tuna or broiled egg
With Breakfast
Try turkey or soy links

With Casserole
Try lentils and rice
With Chili
Try beans (canned or dried)

With Dinner entrée
Try Roast turkey (baked or broiled)
With sandwiches and wraps
Try grilled chicken or hummus

4142013


Details | I do not know? |

Daddy is a bi sexual barebacker

Daddy who are you?
 
Son I am a bi sexual man..
Dad what does bi sexual mean?
It means I like to have sex with men & women.
Why?
Because its how I  feel inside.
Did you love my Momma?
Yes...I did!
What happened to momma?
She died...
How did she die?
She died of AIDS!
How did she get AIDS?
I gave Hiv to her..
Why would you do that?
Because I am a Bi Sexual BAREBACKER!
 
 
 
 WRITTEN BY TG GREEN
 
 
 This happens too much!
If your playing with him be safe..so she can stay negative.. 
 
 
 


Details | I do not know? |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Rhyme |

The Happy Dress

It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative 
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.

So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened.  “Ta Da!  Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked?  Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.

You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.

It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”

“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.

So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.

She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open.  “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”

ALTERNATE LAST VERSE

“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.


Details | I do not know? |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Rhyme |

A Very Inviting Temptation

A Very Inviting Temptation! I remember of a particular situation. I was offered a very "inviting" temptation. The situation I was in... I didn't belong! And lost any sense of "right and wrong." At first... I felt no guilt or shame. And brought embarrassment to my family's name. I tried to explain this to my wife and kids. I heard; "Dad... please... no more fibs!" The Godly principles were "tossed to the side," As the sin inside caused arrogance and pride. Soon, all in my life that truly mattered... Was gone! My life was empty and shattered! I was sorry for all of the problems I caused! This time... I took a moment to pause. I cried to God to rescue me from my sin. I confessed! Would God help me once again? I read in the Bible of Jesus’ grace and love! This time the help I needed had to come from above! I asked him for a fresh and brand new start. He removed the stain from a broken heart. He restored to me the joy I once had. I'm so blessed! Jesus has made me glad! Jesus is the reason I'm here today! I LOVE HIM more than words can say! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme |

No Job Can't Pay the Bills TRY JESUS


Here I sit, uncertain of what lies ahead.
I’m still wondering how my family will be fed.

I once had a job that provided a sense of “security.”
Now I don’t…  And I have a lot of uncertainty!

I have unpaid bills, and I’m not sure what to do.
I’ve asked for help.  But not sure who to turn to!

I get discouraged, and feel life “pulling me down.”
I’ve tried just about every job that’s in town.

The dreams I had, have been shattered and smashed.
At times, I feel like I’m just “a piece of trash.”

My wife tried to support me, the best that she can.
But she doesn’t know me…  Or even understands!

Dear Jesus…  You’re the only left that I haven’t tried.
There’s been many nights I laid awake and cried!

I read in the Bible, where your love for me is real!
When I call on your name...  There’s a love I can feel!

Whatever happens, please help me Lord, to trust you!
Whatever tomorrow holds, may I still love you!

I know that you’re a foundation, that I can stand on!
Jesus is a friend!  That I can always depend on!

Jesus, if I lose everything that I have or that I hold on to...
My I always remember your faithfulness
 and never forget you!

Here I stand… With my burdens lifted from me!
It’s because of Jesus!  And how much he loves me!

I praise HIS name!  And lift my hands to the sky!
He’s in control now!  I don’t have to ask the reason why!

Jesus…  Please take control of my worries and desires!
Above all of my problems, I lift your name up higher!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme |

What I Look For In A Home


I’m sure that home to many has a different meaning. It depends what kind of life they’ve been receiving. There are those with memories of hurt and pain. Some may not want to mention their families name. Others have childhood memories they are fond of. They may have a family that they’re proud of! I think that in many cases, home is not what people see. It has a lot of importance. Both to you and me! What home means to me is to have our family together. And ask the Lord to bless it, with his love forever! God gave me a wife and children to take care of. May I not do things that I’d be ashamed of! I invite YOU Jesus, to be the head of our home! May we come together as a family, around your throne! May our family serve one another as we should. May the truths of God’s word be applied and understood! May the Lord help us to get along, with our imperfections. May God’s word be our “road map,” for needed direction! There’s no perfect home. Believe me! I know it! When it comes to family time… We all need to show it! Unless the lord builds the home… They labor in vain that build it! Let’s seek God’s blessing! So his love can completely fill it! Please come Jesus! And fill our home today! May our home be honored by what we do and say! By Jim Pemberton


Details | ABC |

12-14-12

Just a day
“Good Night Mom and Dad” I said before I went to bed. “We love you” they said as they closed the door
Mom comes in and wakes me up “Time to go to school” as my feet hit the floor
I got dressed and ate breakfast and got my book bag and now we are on the go
We sit in the car listening to music “It’s Friday I think I’m a little excited tho
“Alright baby we here” as mom open the door to let me get out
She closed the door and kissed me on the head told me she loved me before she pulled off
Another day of school and it close to Christmas
I can’t wait to see Ashley and Alexus, today is show and tell as I said in a whisper
We had learning center day and Boy! Was it fun!
Today was a free day and on Friday there isn’t much to learn
The room was quite when the was a knock at the door, the door opened
A man with a big gun was standing there; my classmates panicked and started to run
I heard a lot of noises and a lot of screams
I felt a sharp pain in my back as I dropped to my knees
In the distant I heard more screams and then everything went silent
Then I closed my eyes it went dark and on the cold floor I was dying
The other side
It’s Thursday night and off to bed we go 
I kiss my 5 year old son Jaden and told him I loved him so
Alarm clock goes off and it’s around 6:15 in the morning 
I shower got dress and woke up Jaden my little darling
Its Friday, I fixed him breakfast and we headed out for the this last day until the weekend
I enjoyed our little drives to school as we sat in the car singing
I opened the door to let him out once more
Kissed him on the head and told him I loved him ill pick him up around four
I’m at work drinking coffee just talked to my husband on the phone
Got at my desk started to work and the my office phone rung
It’s about 9:30 and it was Jaden’s school
I got the news he was dead and I started to puke
I’m crying uncontrollably don’t know my next move
My son is dead, I can’t believe this news
I hurried to the school in the best of my ability 
I saw the school surrounded by medics, reporters, and police
I ran to a officer and demanded to see my son
He said “I’m sorry ma’am” I can’t do this at this time
At 9:32 my one and only son Jaden was pronounced dead
The shooter was 20 and took my son’s life in his own hands
The questions continue to flow through my head as I search for answers
I don’t need answers I need my son and his laughter
I am now sitting on his bed trying to swallow tears
My husband holds me close as reality nears
My little boy is gone among the other 19 kids
Heaven has 20 new angels now I hope he knew how much I love him  as much as  I did

R.I.P
(To the innocent lives that were lost in the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting)
12-14-12



123