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Mother Dedication Poems | Mother Poems About Dedication

These Mother Dedication poems are examples of Mother poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Mother Dedication poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Details | Acrostic | |

CARMEN

Can a child ever forget, how deep a mother’s love abides

All those days since birth, till now I’m grown she guides

Remembering her smile, so tender, so warm as her embrace

More than soothes away my pain, my fear of failure and disgrace

Even in my dreams she comforts, her voice, her scent would stay

Never will her being mother stop, till when I’m old and gray.





26 March 2015
Contest : Acrostic on Mother's Day - 1st Place
Sponsor : TAMMY REAMS


Details | Free verse | |

Motherland's Funeral

In the past, my country
cradled me within her womb,
but our roles reversed.
I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.

I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts overseas.

They wrenched her from my arms,
took her from my loving arms
to poke, to prod and draw blood.
I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation,
as greedy hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.

The world is on lithium,
the drug has defiled the last drop of clean water.
My country was on lithium,
for her, the vibrant colours turned into dull grays,
and in the end, her heart gave way 
from having spent too many decades 
trapped within a gilded cage.

She had an organ donor card -
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she still clung onto life.
Her organs were removed,
replaced with waving flags
and roaring stadiums.

Men from every standing, race and creed,
groped Motherland's body
after causing her to bleed.
Many men had laid with her. 
Oh, how they did.
At least some men showed decency,
graced her with meaningful caresses.
But they were far and few between -
between the rape, miscarriages and spoils.

Lithium is being slipped into my drink,
into my food, into the very air I breathe,
so daily I purge,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, splayed out in the morgue,
a cardboard ticket hanging from a big toe
like an empty, whorish price tag.

I will have to give her a proper burial in my mind,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.

Our Mother passed away,
yet the land is here to stay.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges,
pass through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow.
The shell of this country remains, 
Nationalism has turned empty-hollow.

I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts overseas.

I lost my country today,
held her in my arms,
watched her slip away,
felt her slip away.





April 30th, 2012


Details | Rhyme | |

UNSELFISH LOVE

I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.

She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.

But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.

Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.

Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."

She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.

I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.

I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.

Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.

Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.

Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!

1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest


Details | Free verse | |

SOMEWHERE ALONG HER HANDS


' '''''''' ' '' Somewhere a hand is reading out loud a Dickinson, a leather-worn journal recording daily life’s soirees, memorizing rain and shielding little girl’s eyes from the blasting words of the sun. Somehow someone reaches from darkness to drive the shadows that meet the body of her child: trembling with excitement or fear, sliding tender fingers on the back; parts the arms like wind that rushes in all seasons to reveal the lush, delicious landscape of summer ; then rubs the elbow down the forearm to greet the cheeks with a kiss and watches while the hands move back without help or guidance from the daughter sleeping. ~ Somewhere a mother, grandmother, godmother, stepmother, or mother nature weeps over love’s broken child; uses her hair to bandage the wound on the youth’s head …unfolds her hands from prayer to widen the window of angel psalms pressing her lips into alleys of the sapling’s mouth: a tear transforms her from receiving to giving. ..and she feels without seeing the last light of the night; lit for the heart of those who witness its extinguishing * Somewhere death’s chariot prepares for a long journey, away from the living: pack the roses from tomb to womb, remove the thorns for gracious sake, like knives that pierce the heart of loved ones who cannot move on, pulling the orchards over her head; a name whispered in every fireplace she flamed * * And somehow tonight, I hear her stir, still clinging to the waning voice of the hours; she bequeaths stars I will inherit until she, at last succumbs to wispy bliss. And I, a sighing child must tell her: “ Wake up, you've been in bed so long, Mother, you should not be sleeping…” ~ © ........ .... ........ *with love to my Mom who had passed on* Gautami Phookan's Poet lll Contest by nette onclaud


Details | Free verse | |

Through the Door

Can you see them run to me – arms wide and laughing,
calling me, Mama: keeper of the stars, moon and hearts?
Can you see them kiss away my pain, healing every hurt
that’s ever marked me broken, dead or dying?

Can you see them hurt me? When they curse me, flay me; 
ground me with their unformed anger and bravado-uncertainty
until they fly behind doors, crying over what they’ve said – 
wishing they could take it back? 

O’, does that pride HURT! 
It stabs the chest and holds…holds…holds.
Can you see them behind doors and feel their wishful hearts burn? 
Can you feel them loving me through it all?
Love is not something easily hidden. Love like that breaks down doors – 
                                    sees through them. 
Can you see my tears; feel the weight of them on your cheeks? 
They are yours. 
Where you are (past the furthest/closest door) can you see me in them? 
Can you see the love I kept hidden in my dark and painful dungeon? 
You never knew what he did to me – but deep down, I blamed you anyway. 
There was only you left, you see; always you.
Can you see, I'm just like you?

If you can see me, you know. 
And if you can hear me crying through this God Damned pen (all those notes – 
all those written sorry’s slipped beneath doors - you must have known that
even at 37, I’d write you my heart in a note!)

You, Gran/Mother, are my one and only regret. 
That for 7 years, I treated you like a burden, a bother, and a barrier. 
I treated you like you should have treated me – an unintentional intruder;
like something taken, not given. 
But worse than that, I treated you like an acquaintance. 
Knowing how badly that must have hurt you, makes me want to be kicked in the face 
until I am unrecognizable; to the rest of the world, and myself. 

But life’s not like that, is it? No. You knew that, too. 

My baby boy has your nose, ears, and eyes. 
Do you think that if I whisper in his ear tonight while he sleeps (between you and me – 
at the doorway), you could hear me?
Tonight, I will whisper love in his perfect ear (pressed up against heaven’s door) -
maybe you will hear me say,

“Indy…Gran, I’m so sorry. If you can hear me, please give me a sign so I will know 
you’ve heard me. I want to see you smile again – just one more time…please…
let me know that somewhere, behind the door, you forgive me…”

And in the darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight covering his small face
like an angel’s kiss, the baby boy in her likeness, smiled.


Details | Couplet | |

MOTHERS ARE

                                Mothers are love you can never replace,
                        from the day you were born they have that embrace.

                                Mothers are someone you can always turn to,
                        when ever you are in trouble and don't know what to do.

                                Mothers are our healers all the times that we are ill,
                             it is just how Mother's are,always have and always will.

                                Mothers are guardian angels who guide us through life,
                                      they are gifts to our Father's to be a loving wife.

                                Mothers are special and are made just for you,
                        always beside you when you need help to get through.

                                Mothers are people who will always be around,
                       she may not be your blood,but a Mother is common ground.

                                          MOTHERS ARE PRECIOUS PEOPLE
Dedicated to PD:)

                                                      Colleen Marie Bono
                                                           July 1, 2013


Details | Quatrain | |

The Whispered Song

The warrior lays her weary head, 
With heavy heart she cannot bear, 
Burning tears stream down her face, 
As whispered memories touch the ear.

Her armour tarnished by remorse, 
Her battle-cry a wimpered row, 
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude, 
Will never know forgiveness now.

The song began two score ago, 
When two came knocking at her door, 
In need of refuge from the world, 
Of that, and love, and little more.

Forced to fight for every smile, 
Her only solace found in song, 
She longed for love to rescue her, 
And plant her where she could belong.

Jealous tongues are seldom kind, 
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love, 
The caged canary only sings, 
When coaxed to praise from up above.

For the steely spine that now I own, 
Forever shall I grateful be, 
A gift from her, and from her own. 
Courage mounted inwardly.

I'll not forget how I have loved thee, 
And youthful memories I will prize, 
Til on the shore of His forgiveness, 
Whereto now, we both shall rise.



Details | Quatrain | |

Ode to a rose on a sunset

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as the clouds dip into the sea.
A kiss from that rose as the waves fall,
over the beach to a rose kissed me.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
as we wrap in lovers embrace.
A kiss from a rose as homeward we go,
to a bed clothed in satin and lace.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
with passion and warmth do we grasp.
A kiss from that rose that blossoms and blooms,
my hand in her labour pain clasp.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
that wanton and curvy young bride.
A kiss from that rose that huddles our babe,
so loving, in motherly pride.

A kiss from a rose on a sunset night,
without whom I'd not share my life.
A kiss from that rose who selflessly filled,
the place of my darling rose wife!

(c) anaisanais - A M Docherty - Wales, United Kingdom. (7/8/2013)


Details | Haiku | |

Pearls of Mother's Great Love

the pearls from your eyes are far more precious to me than any treasure your big sacrifice nothing more to compare with you’re my great hero I owe you my life mom, my heart melts when you cry your tears: pearls of love unconditional that’s the greatness of your love in you, I feel God mom, I’m so sorry sometimes, I make you lonely but you’re dear to me you bear all the pains pearls of great love on your cheeks every drop, I’ll kiss for I do believe you want only the best for me all your pray’rs and wish thank you so much mom those pearls of great mother’s love be kept in my heart you’re my only mom replaceable by no one comfort and best friend my ardent prayers may you live long in this world may God gives you strength March 24, 2013
Note: This poem was conceived both from the “Pearl” theme and one of my possible adorable picture themes of my latest contest, “Mother’s Love”- merged into one. It is also composed with the inspiration of all mothers in this world. You’re indeed the greatest heroes/heroines! I am so proud of you! I lovingly dedicate this poem to you dear mothers and friends! Big hugs to all of you! Of course, I include especially my loving/dearest mom who’s my greatest inspiration, refuge and best friend. This poem can also bring to us a message for this Easter Season as we remember Mother Mary who’d suffered much seeing her loving son Jesus Christ’s great sufferings on the cross at Mt. Calvary- a mother’s great love to her child indeed! HAPPY EASTER SEASON TO ALL! First Place Contest: Any Poem Goes Judged: 3/29/2013 Sponsor: My Greatest Poet and sis PD


Details | Rhyme | |

M O T H E R =(contest)=

        (MOTHER) 

For you I sing on this day
For you have shown me love, each and every way
I am yours and you are mine
I respect your love  until the end of time
With a mother like you, my life will always shine

Finding sun when there is rain
You are there to guide me in my pain
Lifting my heart when I am sad
Holding me when I am crying too
You are there when things get bad
Always doing what is true
When I say things to hurt you, or get you mad
I am sorry to have disappointed you 
like the times i got upset and started to fight
How about the times I tell you that your wrong
Never giving up on me, always showing me love 
Always waking up to a good morning kiss,
Than you always bless my goodnight kiss,
In those moments my life is where it belongs
For those reason to me you will always be right

Mother, I love everything you do

Like when you cook  for me
You also showed me how to tie my shoe
All those times I made you yell, or did not do things your way
You always found ways to make things  well
Always having the perfect thing to say

With a mother like you, I ask my self everyday
Are we a gift to you, from heaven above
Or, are you a gift to us, with lots and lots of love

Mother, I do not want to see you mad or sad 
You deserve to be treated special, from the day of birth
You deserve one more extra day besides your birthday 
Mother, you always know what to say
Mother, you deserve every thing your way
Mother, for you I will always pray
Mother to you I give all my heart
Mother not even your death tore us apart
Mother you are still in my soul no matter if we are apart

Mother I will never change you for another
This poem is just for you mother
Mother for you I praise your special day

HAPPY  HAPPY  MOTHERS  DAY

  (TO MY MOTHER WHO IS STILL WATCHING OVER ME)
                 ( I  WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS  17 )
          



Details | Free verse | |

Tanglaw -- Light

Sometimes, I cannot help but sigh
and wonder--
wonder deep inside of me 
whether I could ever be like you.

I riffle through the pages of my soul
and find a lot of them empty
Unlike yours, which seem to be bursting, blinding,
bursting, and still continuing to burst with brilliance...

So much so, 
that your soul's light
has spread far and wide,
very much like sunlight's fingers
opening the morning sky curtains,
touching and warming
those who need it.

Tanglaw 
Each step that you take,
each breath that you exhale,
each prayer that you whisper,
each beat of your heart
Tanglaw

I receive a smile,
and chat
with that man
who you've helped change...
Because of you,
the silent man now speaks, smiles.

You sit down to rest,
I see you talking to someone,
and I am almost fooled,
since you seem like old friends.
Because of you,
the lonely strangers become kindred.

It mystifies me sometimes,
of how you never seem to get tired.
It seems like I am the one who gets tired for you,
who gets worried for your own strength...
Then I see that glow from all around, 
and I am reminded how you glean from this glow.

I see you as this beautiful ball of energy--
Never static,
bouncing from soul to soul,
illuminating parts of themselves
that even they never knew existed.

It is so amazing seeing this at work,
since the next thing I know,
the place is lit up,
Alive. 
...and it is all because of you.

It makes me feel unworthy at times,
but oh how it also makes me feel so proud,
that I am a part of you,
and you are a part of me.

I have a lot of catching up to do,
since it seems I am lightyears from where you are

But I will try.
I will catch the tail end of your light,
clutch to it with my life, winding it around me,
let it embrace me--tight, so tight.
And I will never let it go. Never.
Until I also begin to glow.
Until I too, become that ball of light.

Hopefully when someone
riffles through the pages of my soul,
they will not find it blank,
but filled with gilt pages of light.

Just like yours.
Bursting and brilliant just like yours.




Tanglaw is pronounced "tang-lao"

Where I live, mothers are said to be the "light of the home"... 


Details | Free verse | |

30 Years of Blooms

I guess it’s time to stop asking questions,
and start answering them.
Wipe away long dead evaporations;
mined trails overgrown with new,
more current vines.

Time to remove the silver duct-tape
from the face of killed memory; (the girl
in the cavern who sits, wide eyed and bound
at her skeletal ankles and wrists at the top 
of the wicked peak, looking for a way out –
her green eyes wild and rolling
like thunder and mustangs at the edge 
of the drop ,
looking for a way out of this 
buried-alive, hell)
and replace it with white words whispered
into my own children’s ears.

I cannot judge you.
Just as I cannot judge her.
We are all together in this moment.

And although I’d love to be 
the high and mighty mother who says,
“OH! I would never do that to MY kids –
never!”
I won’t. 
I won’t give him the pleasure.
The one who turned you to glass; beat you
until you were nothing but sunlight
in your own mother’s memory.
She loved me as I love mine (including
the young one who waits for her savior with 
the shining scissors; coming through 
the dark like rebirth and deliverance;
like a cool cloth on a charred brow).

So I will plant my Mother’s Day lilac tree
in her honor –
burying the questions,
honoring the love we shared
and still share.
We will leave our judgments at the door and sit 
beneath its amethyst blooms 
(my birthstone; 
                                  your given gift of insight)
exalting in the sacred heart of motherhood;
laughing until we cry;
feeding its deep roots
with memory.




© Kristin Reynolds 5 9 09

*Dedicated to my Mother this Mother's Day (I hope you are listening...)


Details | Rhyme | |

Sentinel of Strength

* This one is for my Mommy, her Mommy ETC- the lucky ones.


Nourishment- encouragement.

Minister of all heart's treasure
Donor of the kindest pleasure 
Infinite love, no measure
Powerful embraces, your leisure.
 
Sublime being, forever proud
Never shallow, nor a shroud
Instructing all, love you vowed
Quiet sentinel, strength so loud.

Upon weary days, you'd not smother
Heart enriching, me 'n' my brother
To adore you, there in no other
Divulging to all, the perfect Mother.


This one is for the unlucky one's who have or had no choice.

O' girl born to royalty
From the moment of birth, 
Preened for the aristocracy
Prospect to a King's loyalty-

Fed from another's breast
Mother was busily searching for
your future husband's crest.
Princess's every movement planned,
even to whom would be given her hand.

Aged of thirteen years, 
a fountain of ideas was becoming hers.
Learned in languages, yet 
to never have a tongue
Driven to madness
O' so very young.

"All that is expected of thee
is to be wife and Queen, in this land
of unity. Bear sons and speak not
a whit, after all... you are but a 
woman, silly twit." Her Father, the 
King explained that eve 'fore her nuptial.

"But Father, I know not even who he is!"
The frightened Princess softly spoke.

Yet the argument was always the same.
She was to wed the King of a strange land,
to go with him as always planned.
She was to forge the union of Kingdoms.
To do as told and enjoy all that is grand.

The day of the Union, she met her 
betrothed, walking down the isle
He stood there , some fifty years old,
large, pasty, expectant and with a vulgar smile.

And all her fears, even within her 
young years- drove her instantly mad.
In a rage, she died then and there
rather than to be locked in her Royal 
cage.


These are akin to so many women and mother's alive to this day.
Never should these women go unnoticed.


Details | Rhyme | |

Apology Letter To My Mama

Dear mama,
I apologize for the aches,
And all the pain,
I apologize for struggle in your 
heart,
Torturing your veins,
I apologize for the stressful tears,
On account of non-listening ears,
I hear your melancholy weeps,
From a mind that never sleeps,
I know the fake smile you keep,
Will break you suddenly,
I am sorry for the things making you 
sick,
I am sorry you had to grow up 
quick,
Even when you shout hate,
I see love in your eyes,
Out of your heart you apologize,
But, this is my apology to you,
For all the things I put you through,
I apologize for the things you never 
had,
Just to make us glad,
I apologize for the unpaid bills, 
that has you taking headache pills,
I thank you for your vigilance,
But, I can't sit and watch,
The other half is gone,
And you're fighting alone,
Somebody got to be the MAN of the 
house,
We can't always sit on the couch,
Mama I appreciate the things you 
do,
I thank God for you,
I apologize if my actions never 
show,
I Love You,
You bring peace and healing to my 
soul.


Details | Blank verse | |

Mothers Day: I love you Dad

I love you dad,
Not because of the sweet deep voice
Not because of the angelic heart 
Not because of the shelter and food
Not because of bills you clear
Not because of because
I love you dad, 
so much,
Because you love mom 


Details | Narrative | |

Iowas Child

Gone are the fields of winter white
soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows,
in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold
turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill

Plumes of black and gray from mans machine
kneading the back of Mother Earths desire,
before impregnating her with the many seeds 
that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs

oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone
holding yet to some remnants of children past,
left only to cradle her dead, left by man
yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can

Above, from the heavens, Father prepares
to germinate those so many seeds,
with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed
sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds

within days Mother is impregnated
she can feel the multitudes of organic life,
moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing
the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun

Minutes turn to hours, hours to days
suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life,
giving rain, descends from guilded clouds
arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained

nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer
it is time for Fathers other children,
to reap what he has sewn
time for Mother Earth to let her children go

My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full
of the fruit they were meant to bear,
to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds
grown to maturity, in need from the father

Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine
come to life, they move through her fields,
her children, like a predator among prey
until, she is left again, with remnants of children past

Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white
gone will be the warm breath of life,
her children taken from her, she is again barren
only to be betrothed to a promise of new life.


I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land.

                      God Bless....Taz


Details | Free verse | |

Thank you mother

I must confess!!
my mother was not there
when i needed milk from somebody's breast

Probably she was feeling stress -
daddy used to beat her down
living marks from the face to the chest

Eventually mom left,
living behind two sons;
i must believe she thought it was best

To do not worry about the rest -
she kept on going forward
and buildup a new nest

I'm not writing this for you to criticize
but rather
for you to analyze   

That i had realize!!
You couldn't ever gone back
to get hurt and be utilize

So you came to the deep south
with only one purpose;
not ever going back to the devil's mouth
 
If i was you i would have done the same,
but again, what about my sons
you know what, don't take the blame

Mother is alright!!
I am very thankful
for i am very bright

Thank you again for giving birth 
two beautiful sons;
worth introducing to the planet Earth


Details | Free verse | |

In Ordinary Cups

The days pass from tea cup to tea cup
in the peaceful silence of a solitary nest.
From gentle easy sunrise through sheer white
to the subtle fall of accordion night.

The echoes of childish laughter tremble
across the cracked surface of plaster walls.
Random squeaks in oaken floors return 
the footfall of father, coming and going.

Long lost cat's paw prints impress carpet
dragons from Shanghai with ghostly ease,
and every loved and loving one returns
in peace, to rest beneath the tapping fingertips
upon a porcelain cup of tea from China.



















Details | Sonnet | |

Nikan

Inspired by;  Constance La France’s Native American Portrait 


Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare

When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother

Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread 


I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.


Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"

Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend


Details | Rhyme | |

A Mother's Love

A Mother’s Love… How precious is the love of a mother’s heart! Even as a child… It’s there from the start. A mother’s love knows no boundary or limit. It’s often shown by how much the mother gives it! Whether her children are young or growing old… And whatever circumstances in life may unfold. Her love is continually a solid foundation… That can’t be removed, torn or shaken. Her love is what is a guiding force. Even if her children’s lives stray off course. I’m thankful for the love my mother’s given… It’s surely influenced the way I’ve been livin’! To all of our mothers across our great nation… May we show them our love and appreciation! Their love has stood and endured the test of time… I’m so glad that one of them is MINE! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

A Mother's Ears

A Mother’s Ears A mother’s ears become magic the minute she hears her newborn cry— nature turns up the volume like at no other time. The slightest cry, whimper, sneeze, cough, hiccup, sounds like a gong that vibrates her into action. Like a mama penguin coming in from the hunt at sea she knows the sound of her little one calling among hundreds— and she rushes to her baby. Baby’s special sound, mama’s special ears, they develop in the time of motherhood— a one-on-one relationship between sound and love. A mother is a communication system receiving, decoding, interpreting, sending, reacting— like an intricate multi-faceted machine— with a huge, beating heart of love, a mind full of devotion, nurturing and commitment— and magnificent ears. May 2, 2015 Contest: A Mother’s Ears Sponsor: Craig Cornish


Details | Rhyme | |

I still feel lost

Even though you've been gone for a year and a half, at times I still feel lost without you.
When I feel this way, it's so sad and I don't know what I'm going to do.
While you were on your deathbed, I asked God for a miracle when I prayed.
But he still took you after you had been my mother for over four decades.
When somebody has been a big part of your life for that long, it's very painful when they're taken.
When the doctor said you were going to die, I would've given anything if he had been mistaken.
It broke my heart to see you lie in that hospital bed and suffer.
The situation was bad enough but it was bound to get rougher.
Things became much worse when I woke up and saw that you had died.
At times I still feel lost without you and it tears me up on the inside.

[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]


Details | Rhyme | |

Just Reach

just reach your hand out to the sky
pull your loved ones back to your side

lets get to say one more goodbye
for we never wanted them to go away and die

as now the days and nights lay 
in such sweet disguise

so let us once again our lord
stare into their illumating eyes

as we reach out for them 
in your broad horizon sky

and get to hold and kiss them
even if their not by our sides

for if this is however feels when we die
then I'd like to be that angel in that sky

so I can just reach out right back
and wipe their tears too from their eyes



Tribute To Our Loved Ones
On The Other Side
May You All RIP


Details | Triolet | |

THE BLACK AND BLUE BLUES

THE BLACK AND BLUE BLUES

There was blood on the street
On his shirt
And on his shoes
Yet it never made the news

Just another person
Just another tale
Just another sister with a sorry story for sale
A beauty bound to lose
Yet it never made the news

There had been thousands of tears
Throughout the years
And nights of varied and sundry fears
Her face was painted with blacks and blues
Yet it never made the news

She’d been to the cops to tell her story
“listen lady, no guts no glory”
To them it was too ordinary so they’d refuse
I’d pick up a newspaper to peruse
And still her story never made the fu**ing news
 
When the law finally caught the case
They understood the condition of her face
Needed not was D.N.A.for the culprit was known
After he beat, bludgeoned and broke every bone

This was a couple who should had never become a pair
She with morals and he with his nose in  the air
Because she was his dynamite and he was the fuse
And she died yet it never made the fu**ing news
     © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~ 



Details | Ballad | |

The Definition Of A Real Woman

(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.

(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.

(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.

(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.

(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.



Details | Rhyme | |

This poem is my own recovery from Valium O Little White Tablet

‘0 LITTLE WHITE TABLET’

O little white tablet, how I hate you,
I was only 21 years old, when introduced to you.
You looked so innocent, so white, so pure.
I was told you were the answer to everything,
(The cure)
No-one told me, when they introduced me to 
the rest of your family, the yellow and the blue.
The blue being five times stronger than you.
No-one told me of the dangers you held within.
Of all the pain I would have to go through, all the suffering.
No-one told me. YOU would rob me, of eighteen 
years of my life.
That I would be unable to function properly,
as a Mother and Wife.
No-one told me, I would get addicted to you.
Of all the pain and suffering, I would
have to go through.
To get you out of my system, alone took two years. 
Two more years of heartbreak, many, many tears.
Then to find out, I had Agoraphobia.
Several more years, destroyed by fear.
Which a lot of people, say is caused by you.
Not being able to go out, far or near.
Hurting all the ones, I loved so dear.
O little white tablet, how I hate you.
But in the end I was the winner Not you.

This poem refers to prescribed drugs


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Ungrateful Son

Self righteous there, he stands and preens, this perfect specimen
Due to Mothers nurturing, alive and prospering.
Forgotten are the years of toil, the Mothers care and love
The Brother  and the Sister, he keeps his head above
What  poison foul  infects his blood, and whispers in his ear
to Blind his eyes and turn his head from truth’s he will not hear
In judgement he declares the fault, forgetting what He’s done
Self righteous words and nasty mouth, deny the blame he owns
The bond he broke, the lives that spent, creating him a home
Are conveniently forgotten , he must have done it on his own
The years of dedicated Love, are foreign to his kind
The loyal years of Motherhood discarded in his mind
Oh that he could just stand aside ,and see what  he could be
Just take the look, review himself and see what others see
An arrogant uncaring fool who pose’s puffs and struts
fawning  Yes’s  on his cronies ,  and to his family But’s 
He’s lost forever, lest he changes temper tantrum’d rants
Grow from a nasty little Boy and take the real mans stance.
For many things in life don’t last, they’re transient you see
But a Mothers care and heartfelt love will live eternally
Or will he visit once a year for duty tend a grave
 A caring loving thankful son, for show he will be brave
Remember this you upstart, no matter what you say
The debt you owe your Mother, you never can repay
Next time you start your little rants and Put your Mother down 
When she is dead and in her grave forgiveness won’t be found. 


Details | Rhyme | |

A Mother's Love


A Mother’s Love… How precious is the love of a mother’s heart! Even as a child… It’s there from the start. A mother’s love knows no boundary or limit. It’s often shown by how much the mother gives it! Whether her children are young or growing old… And whatever circumstances in life may unfold… Her love is continually a solid foundation… That can’t be removed, torn or shaken. Her love is what is a “guiding force…” Even if her children’s lives stray “off course.” I’m thankful for the love my mother’s given… It’s surely influenced the way I’ve been livin’! To all of our mothers across our great nation… May we show them our love and appreciation! Their love has stood and endured the test of time… I’m so glad that one of them is MINE! By Jim Pemberton


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.