Mother Baptism Poems | Mother Poems About Baptism
These Mother Baptism poems are examples of Mother poems about Baptism. These are the best examples of Mother Baptism poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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I do not know?
Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.
Oh, my Dear Precious mum
You are the cause of my birth
You are the core of this earth
You are my dear, precious mother
In this world and the other
Oh my dear great mum
As young I didn’t realize
Your big love and its size
But now a mother myself
You are the soul of my life
Oh my dear little mum
My parents, my sisters and brother
Our memories altogether
As alive as books on a shelf
You cared for us more than yourself
Oh my dear lovely mum
Oh, my dear little mum
Your affection is an anthem
I still remember,
My Dear Precious Mother
Oh my dear wise mum
Whenever I had a fever
You always got hotter
And instead of being tired
You quickly get inspired
Oh my dear generous mum
You sang me beautiful lyrics
Then kissed me on the cheeks
Now like you, a grand mother
Emotions make me bother
Oh my dear marvellous mum
How many years, how many times
How many beautiful feelings and emotions
Have you live and experienced?
And to our love you are sentenced.
Oh my dear unique mum
But now so weak and so old
Alone with no one around
Grazing your souvenirs
With your sighs and your tears
Oh my dear miraculous mum
Your heart is all forgiveness
Your gestures are all tenderness
I beg your pardon now and then
Oh my dear wonderful mum
I love you as much as I can
To Allah is all my praise
For my years and my days
For my parents my best prize.
Oh my dear prodigious parents
Don't Look Under the Bed
- by Bob Atkinson
..........Oliver Goldsmith tells the story ....
out walking for his health
a man spied his friend of years on pathway
how "are you sir?" he asked with smile
"not well" the gent replied back, looked terrified
"... what happed sir to create this stir
you seem so stressed this day
do you feel under the weather
perhaps you should stand in shade? ..."
the man then told his story
one of dubious glory
had come home early yesterday
and found his wife not at her work
lying without on her bed
no stitch of clothes or hat on head
had looked down and seen some shoes
not his size, but a style he knew
looking further had seen his friend
under the bed with open hand
covering body parts unnamed
a context which him inflamed
"... hmmmm the first man perused
this situation's not so unusual
a fix of gross proportions
one of life's heartless distortions
the gent began to lament
how he's sending wife to mother
divorcing within the week
slapping her with lawyer on each cheek
his friend then held up hand to stop
this track of mind which he thought
not a path one should take
in this situation of disgrace
"friend," he said with saddened tone
"you have no witness on your own
just your word against your lover
should you really send her to her mother?
your word against her own
you'll alimony pay through the nose
and half your wealth will be disposed
to this woman of lover spoken
best never again look under her bed
when you come home you should slam
front door hard to make some noise
yell 'Honey I'm Home' loudly in bright tones"
thus, the gent saw sense in this
went home with smile to his sweetness
"Honey I'm home," he loudly declared upon entry
he never again looked under bed or pantry
Though that day was dry
But still that mother long cry
Would not stop me from making a try.
I know how rigid the wall
I know how strong 's the mall
And that made me tall.
Though Whiskey held my lip
And rolled me off to strip
But it wouldn't stop me from trip.
Though it 's at first painful
But now it 's the most beautiful
And before God, I will still be grateful.
I know she did it for fun
And not realise what it 'd turn
But before God, she don't have to run.
Though that day was dry
But still that mother long cry...