These Prayer Mother poems are examples of Mother poems about Prayer. These are the best examples of Prayer Mother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
. (Dear Mommy)
Amazing grace, how sweet the taste.
A song I dread up to these days.
Mommy can you hold my hands?
Show me how to make God understand?
Hold my hands and show me how to pray,
and maybe than he will listen to the words I say!
Mommy how do I ask God,
If I can keep you for another day.
I promise this time to pray everyday!
Mommy can you share them beautiful and sweet words before you say good-bye.
I thank you for the shoes, you showed me how to tie.
Mommy now what am I going to do when I want to talk and be with you?"
Now who's gonna take care of me when I'm feeling blue?
Mommy Can you still protect me?"
Like them days you defended me, no matter the trouble I was in.
Mommy! That is when you thought me the meaning of sin.
Mommy you always explained the reasons why I was here.
You also taught me, how to face away from fear.
Now how am I going to find my way home?
Are you still going to whisper them words that says, "I'M NOT ALONE!"
Mommy why is everyone offering their sympathy?
Nothing compares to the way your heart was supportive when it came to me.
Mommy how can you make the suffering stop?
Mommy you are all I got.
Mommy I have no cure for what is in you.
All I can offer is what's in me.
Mommy can we go and play outside.
Please hold my hand and take me with you to the other-side.
The place you always spoke of when it came to Amazing Grace.
The sweet surrender resting place..
Mommy I'm here to visit you again.
A place where baskets are offered by family and friends.
Mommy can I stay here forever with you?
Hold me the way you use too.
Mad, and sad you washed away my tears.
Reading a book called "The 3 little pigs."
Mommy can you sing that lullaby song of praise?
Mommy can you hear me?
Digging deep into the ground,
There and only there can you be found.
One last breath, shared with the open skies.
Mommy can I go with you?
*dedicated to my mom*
They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A doer of good deeds.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
Believing he saved
From a long, cold walk,
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.
Sometimes, I cannot help but sigh
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.
Each step that you take,
each breath that you exhale,
each prayer that you whisper,
each beat of your heart
I receive a smile,
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--
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,
...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"...
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
All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens. A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind.
I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.
Sweeter than a flower special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Kneeling in prayer singing a tune
Beautiful young one baby girl
See her face glowing
Know that she's going to a better place
Surrounded by angels
Near the pearly gates
Safely in the sacred arms
Looking up at Jesus face
Sweeter than a flower
Special as could be
A little girl softly asleep
Close your eyes right now
See her going
To a better place
Your little baby girl
Once soft meadows so full of life,
now hold shadows, blocking the light.
Words unheard, and dreams untouched,
once your eyes laughed so much.
Distant sounds, still call your name,
within a body silenced by the game.
Love can't touch, and tears can't clean,
that part we know as self esteem.
Yesterdays of you, bring me joy,
recalling back when you were a boy.
Shiny blonde hair, and smiling blue eyes,
my heart forever hypnotized.
As tomorrow comes, and life goes on,
somewhere happiness must belong.
My prayer for you I humbly ask,
may light surround you within God's grasp.
A blessing for me, when you were born,
but somehow evil has sent this storm.
Jesus You know him, but he has lost his way,
hold him tight, don't let him stray.
Bring him safely to me once more,
as the waves get higher on unknown shores.
Lost is lonely, and screaming for help,
but I can't save him all by myself.
I give him to You, as I sit and cry,
a mother in pain, I cannot lie.
Your mother watched, as you died on a cross,
a mother in pain, for her son she had lost.
You gave her comfort, You called her name,
now I give You mine, my heart feels the same.
Bring him safely back into the flock,
as You guide a lost vessel from hidden rocks.
Let him know joy, let him feel rain,
as Your Love gently brings, my son home again.
The sky is not the same.
When I don't see her eyes and her smile it starts to rain.
Please God tell me your Angel is okay.
I don't know what to do if she goes astray.
Please guide your Angel back to me.
I miss the sweet words of her melody.
Show me she has not departed from us,
and will promise not to fuss.
Give me a sign or a hint of her existence.
Let me know that she is in no need for assistance.
If you do I shall promise never again to be distant.
' '''''''' ' ''
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…”
© rights reserved
........ .... ........
*with love to my Mom who had passed on*
PD's Mother's Day Contest
By nette onclaud
In her womb she carried her child nine months,
Bliss and joy he brought forth.
Satiate her a ray of hope in newborn eyes,
She bosomed her gracile in first cry;
Nurtured, fostered and fledged.
He grew up a young lad,
Belligerent and wasteful he turned;
Scathe her emotions and physical,
Never heed mother’s wist.
deplore her for damsel beauty,
Abandoned and ill he felt;
Whence mother’s forbearing love aided.
Spued blood for months,
And in no hope of survival;
Mother’s earnest prayer and supplication convalesced him.
Lackadaisical and Impenitent natured,
By and by he erst;
Wend the lady who abased him his manhood,
His love forsook,
His last days embodied in insobriety.
On the day of funeral oration,
Mother retold unchanging love for her child,
And tears that never dried,
Bid her son last adieu.
And lived the rest of her life bewailing,
Till one day her body gave away to ageing,
And died a mother whose love for her son
Never be bought by any gold or silver.