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Music Mother Poems | Mother Poems About Music

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

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Details | Cinquain |

Lullabye

                                                       Whisper 
                                                    Soft lullabies
                                                A mother's melody
                                        Soothingly shushes fretful cries
                                                      Precious.

                                                            
         
Kim Merryman
 For  nette onclaud's  Melody of Cinquain contest   2nd place win
9/8/11      

For PD's 2nd place winners contest


Details | Rhyme |

MAMMA ANNA MADE THE BEST BABBA' AL RHUM

Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum,
you should have seen me how it made me slightly drunk;
and jumping and screaming I danced to the beats of a drum...
then grandma joined in and she sang a classical song!


And the sweet cream was on my lips and cheeks, 
the Babba' al Rhum was delicious and I topped it with chocolate;
everybody began shouting, "It came from Paris,
but we Neapolitans reinvented it by improving its shape and taste!"


Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum, soaking it in that liqueur much longer;
and Papa' always told me to eat more of it...saying with a suppressing laughter,
"It's a man's dessert, after you eat it, you'll be strong!"
Oh, did he really tell me the truth? No, he was wrong!


It's so very sad that they aren't here,
and I am eating pretzels and drink a beer,
the harmony that stirred their passion can't possibly return...
as they danced on the terrace to celebrate the day I was born!


Mamma Anna knew how to make the best Babba' al Rhum,
and I licked the dripping rum with my finger...not my tongue!
She spoke calmly...when she should have gotten mad and picked up a broom;
no, she was never mean and rude, or ever said to me, " Go to your room!"


Details | Light Poetry |

' Boot-Legged Mama '

Mama and Daddy was always Love-Dovey
She is His Sweetheart – He is Her Honey
First Love… Real Love  -  Forever True
Pa… I Pray to find A Man Like You…

Daddy Laughed and Put His Arm Round My Shoulder
And Said, “I’ll Tell You Somethin’, Now You’re Older
It’s got to do with Your Mother’s Fame
And Why I gave Her, The Nickname…

               … Boot-Legged Mama

                  Boot-Legged Mama
Blue-jean Shorts and Vintage Tony Lama
Walked thru the Door… of A Liquor Store
… Packaged so Pretty… Pa Just had to Pour

               … Boot-Legged Mama

Ma… Was there, to get 6-packs for A Party…
Pa… Was there, ‘cause of a Taste for Bacardi
He took One Look and Knew He Couldn’t Waste Her
Pa… Gave-up ‘Drank’… Just so He Could Chase her !

Dad, Said, ‘He’d Drowned in Dark-Eyes and Sweet-Aroma
Fine-Wine, Crystal… But Tuff’ Nuff’ to Down-Drama
Pa Claims, Mama’s Labeled by the F.D.A.
And Listed on Her Driver’s License is,  A.K.A.  …

               … Boot-Legged Mama

                  Boot-Legged Mama
 Genuine Woman, Who Made Him Wanna’
Take Her to be His Lawful Moonshine
… Married at Midnight – ‘cross The County-Line

               … Boot-Legged Mama

Alcohol’s in Trauma;  and Prohibition Told Her:
"Boot-Legged Mama… Done Drove Pa Sober !"
Now, Homemade-Hooch… is His Acquired Taste
180 Proof… Kicked All Over His Case !

Right Then, Mama Flowed into The Room
Pa, Teased and Said, “Still Full-Bodied and Perfumed !
Ma Hugged Us, then Handed Me – Old Boots and A Dress…
    (and good advice)… “Go Git’ My Elliot Ness…

               … and be a Boot-Legged Mama!

( Hey !... Did I Hear Somebody, In A Country Drawl ….
          Order Up A Bottle of Kicking Alcohol !
         Well, Here She Is… Y'all ! ...
                  Boot-Legged Mama ….

Well John (Moses) Freeman... You Said You Needed
Somethin' :)  to Read tonight, before kicking up your
heels...  Well, Here It Is (Have Fun - Son)

MoonBee 

 (Thank You For All Your Wonderful Comments
Now, I Can't Get Thru The Door for My Ego.. (Smile)


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 | Free verse |

Her Little Black Dress

It was perfect for any occasion, with 
the right accessories, like the traveling 
pieces Mozart carried court to court. 
No matter what style or instrument 
the reigning virtuoso favored, violin 
or piano left-hand, the master would have 
just the thing to sparkle an entertainment.

Just so. One small stone would sparkle 
at her throat, or her left hand, to favor 
the violet of her eyes. A virtuoso 
she was, a Mozart in the instrument 
of style. Perfectly right, one dress 
would carry her, court to court, as she
traveled through life on her accessories.


Details | Narrative |

GREET THE LITTLE KING

Greet the little King,
who has been born in a cold manger
on the holiest of nights;
and by the glitter of a descending star,
He will spread peace in the land...
follow the shepherds and find that sight! 


My gift to Him is my joyful song,
and with this clarinet I will usher in His coming...
walk side by side with the pretty angels and rejoice;
bring Him your gift, and surround Him with joy!
See the three Magi arriving on jewel-draped camels,
holding in their laps the gifts of His destiny.  


A winter's night has always been completely bright,
every hill is hidden by darkness, but an heavenly light 
appears across the frosty sky of Bethlehem, while divine
voices announce Emmanuel's glorious birth,
everyone wakes up and sees that star and follows it;
and where it stops, they find a baby without a crown.   


Greet the Son of the Highest, the Wonderful Redeemer, 
whom the Virgin Mary has borne in the humblest of places...
in the small town without a temple, or a palace for the Emperor,
where Mary and Joseph will train their child in Godly ways;
greet the little king, He will smile and invite you in,
and His smile will spread peace beyond the star-lit hill. 
 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) |

Family Grief Family Happiness

  
   Have you ever written anything without sub combing to tears ?
        
    My Family portrait in my mind , 2 older sisters , 2 brothers
        My Mother caring about all five in different ways
      Just with Mom & Dad there having the best of Holidays 
     My sisters laying out on the deck of river bank for 4th of July ~
          
      Listening to " Honkey Chateau " and all by Elton John. 
       music  a great memory ~Disco , Donna summer , Grease ~ Jaws !

     Dad's records to Tony Bennett , Hank W Sr. , Count Basie & Louis Armstrong.
          The music  takes me home in a wagon filled with children and a dog "Lucky "    
      My Older brother , athletic , always fishing & hunting.
                 My younger , my Rock , Swimming and netting for fish,
        feeding our Fat cat Perch off the rocks patiently awaits her food               
         
       the yelling , slamming of doors ,  tempers Flare , passion 
         Our Parents , passionate love yet passionate Hate .
        
        After being a Family of Seven , Divorcing their fate ..
         Why did that show " Dallas " bring out the Divorce in all ?

       Scottish ~ Irish ~ French Iroquois ~ Cherokee  
                 No matter what the mix ..Our curse Alcohol ~
          the  Screaming , Drinking , this memory I wish to shut the door on .  
        Going to A & W or making Cheerleading ,The Bears of course~
             Excited in Chicago !  seeing Elton John in the Summer of 1976 ~
        Cubs ,  museum of Wax , Museum of science & History , Pizza !
        
       Expeditions of discovery ,little brother & I finding arrowheads on the Shore.
             Our Grandparents Faithful Celebrations ! Chiffon cake , Apple strudel `  
        Our Cousins on Holidays , going for ice cream cones , 
          scent of wet rain on oak leaves ~Before Halloween was bought in stores.
        
           ~ That is the Family I Love ,
                     that is the Family I choose to miss ~    
                       
              


Details | Narrative |

LISA'S IVORY MUSIC BOX

Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?


When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"


The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.


It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 


There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.


But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.


Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...


Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Free verse |

Wisdom of Heights---Climb with Me

This morning
bells toll
a trumpet sounds
but refuses to blare
it just doesn't know 
how to harm
what it takes
to infect the living 

trees
earth
and sound
survive sadness
out last the past
bond brothers and sisters
of sky
air 
mud 
and water
as it loses 
to a force

some days...

this morning
it wins
because the vibration knows god
and is ONE

and though human imperfections
sit in the shadows of it's path
perfections will
and forever will
prevail

people
so arrogant 
we choose to destroy 
but how can we concentrate 
on methods of malcontent
when god sits at our breakfast table?
urging
as father urges child
"get up!"
"move on!"
"stand on two feet!"
"breath child!"

he tolls the bell
as we lay on deaf ears
he loosens ties with anger 
as the path warns and wears
thrusting
driving this cosmic ship 
of no loses
only tiny
arrogant setbacks

and he smiles
for he knows
what we yet
have to find...
and all is well.


Details | Bio |

INGREDIENT OF AN ARTIST

One ingredient of the artists is woman 
That is why they love their mothers
I love to become an artist
So I will love my mother
She is the precious ingredient of my life
Not less than the love that speaks out itself
She is my womb when I was alone
She is my hug when I am in tears
Now I am old still I love her
I love her, I love her, I love her
So much...
I need to be old for me to get young
I realized that in my younger days
I don’t give a damn to loving her
But requested many things as if I don’t care
I love my mother, please forgive me!
I love you so much 
Never and never will you leave me?
I am indeed wanted to become an artist
But the real artist is my mother
Never surrendered to hardship
I will stop not to end
Remember I wanted to become an artist
And you are my ingredient!


Neldy Jolo 
WM-KL 5:43PM
28 March 2012
 


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