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Devotion Mother Poems | Mother Poems About Devotion

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

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Details | Verse |

Missing Mother

Bits of me are missing mother,
the bits of me which you placed.
Bits of me are missing Mother ah..
I see you in my face.
Trying to remember Mother’s days
of wine and roses..Sinatra songs and beaches,
pipe curls and crinolines, days so far gone, so long ago,
replaced by bitter brew, by tears, by fears,
by little pills, I remember you.

I see you in my face, Mother.
Years gone by and still I try,
no easy thing to do, try to remember,
just a few... memories of happy days with you? 

Was it when I learned to read, when you baked your pies?
Ah, Mother, mother memories ... only come in sighs.

Still, in all, it’s very true, 
          I spend each day missing,
                           missing all of you.





Details | Couplet |

The Seamstress of Time

I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair

She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke

The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm

Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said

As she once again started to dissipate 
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”

As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face

Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”

Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true

I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways

The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight

Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble 

From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me

I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth

I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way

I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain

She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”

“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”

With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”

As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”

“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”

One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”


When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I 
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day. 



Details | Diamante |

Precious Gifts of Love

God/Jesus Loving, Good Saving, Blessing, Guiding King, Lord of Lords, Savior, Creator Teaching, Leading, Fishing Powerful, Almighty Father Father strong, industrious building , directing , sacrificing family head, director, leader, manager hardworking, supporting courageous, patient Mother Mother caring, kind nursing , assisting, guiding teacher, adviser, counselor, caregiver, leading, molding, supervising tender, understanding friend Friend loyal, warm brothers, sisters giving unconditional love whom we can hold on to and trust, so,love and honor your father and mother one of the commandments of God Above are precious diamonds and gifts of love, Safely kept in my diamante- poem treasure box.
August 18,2012 First Place Contest: Diamante Judged: 11/13/13 Sponsor: Poet Dr. Ram Mehta


Details | Narrative |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


Details | Rhyme |

Dearest

Dearest, why cry in vain in the black night 
fight its gentle intent to hold and rest. 
Why fear malcontent this absence of light? 
Put false ego upon the loom to test. 

What makes you conclude elation so found
from harsh light, will thus frame your hearts delight?
Reality so formed will oft be unbound,
allow grays to soften the fading light.

We are ripe stalks of Universal Eye.
Walk on courageous in the night time sky.


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 | Rhyme |

Little Yellow Socks

* Written for my daughter, who really does have a precious pair of Little Yellow Socks.

Little Yellow Socks
       by Amy Swanson  12/5/2008

Little yellow socks
running down the hall
"Slow down with those socks on,"
I'd yell... too late, the fall!

Little yellow socks
padding softly late at night
climbing up into my lap
one more hug, out goes the light.

Little yellow socks
follow me with squeals of laughter;
Oh how she loves to run in them,
Begging me to come chase after!

Little yellow socks...
now not being worn a lot.
My little girl is growing up,
No longer just a tot.

Little yellow socks
will be cast aside someday
I must guard these precious moments;
in my heart, they'll safely stay.


Details | Dodoitsu |

White Wedding

Confetti flutters the sky
A bride dressed in pearly white
Footprints pave bright virgin snow
Steps to her future


Details | Free verse |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


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...)


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