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Sympathy Mother Poems | Mother Poems About Sympathy

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

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Details | Rhyme |

Face Of A Beggar Child

FACE OF A BEGGAR CHILD

I saw your tear-stained face O’ child
It swam before my eyes at night
I clearly saw your life’s struggle,
Your painful hunger pangs and fright.

In my dreams I could clearly see
Your shredded clothes and unkempt hair.
At such a tender age O’ child,
On your face it was all written there.

No one to care for you my child
No one to call your very own.
No mother nor father to call you son, 
No siblings to call you come hither bro’.

I wondered how you came to be
In such a distressed way of life
Each day you have to beg for alms
And face the world’s rage and strife.

Were you the victim of natural disaster,
Like quake or floods epidemic or plague.
Or was it due to human vices
Like war or bloody bath of  death.

Were you  lost in busy hustle of life,
Was it all due to human greed.
Were you the fruit of sin and tossed,
Amidst dirty dustbin where dogs came to feed.

Your tear-stained face swims before my eyes,
And asks me how it came to be.
That  God created all humans alike,
But gave them different destiny.

Oh God, this your humble servant,
Asks you just one small question.
If there are so many tear-stained faces present,
Why Mother Teressa was only one.


Details | Ballad |

She Cried

       She cried, She died inside over and over again, She was trapped in herself 
and she had no way of escaping. Taking drugs to dull the mud that's been in her 
eyes 
for years. She's so far away from reality that it's like she is constantly 
sleeping. 
She has to remind herself what's fictional and what's fact because the 
hallucinations wouldn’t  let her breath, they’d lie to her every chance she gets. 
Turning her mom into a monster not butterflies suddenly this high becomes a 
nightmare. One she had been fighting for so long, 16 and still traveling the same 
rode as so many younger than her. She didn't listen to all the voices that tried to 
tell her what she was missing because truly reality is the thing that makes life 
worth living. To her reality was the guy who had raped her constantly when she was 
young, Why choose reality when you could live in a dream world where everything had 
excuses. Not only could she not recognize the girl who cried constantly in the 
mirror but she'd done so many things to herself that even her eyes were a different 
color. 
It hurt so bad not to remember so she continued to fade until soon it seemed 
better. 
In an idiotical world where there were always smiles, It wasn't until she got help 
that she realized the real world was never always pleasant. It was filled with hate 
and lies and pain but that's something real and something she needed to face. 
Something she needed to open her eyes to, life would never be cake and she couldn't 
have her victory without tasting poison at least once. So when the tears dried and 
the wounds healed she signed up for a special thing a thing called GED and she got 
it.


Details | I do not know? |

Today Is Terrible----

The cracked spine of
the book I dropped
at the call.
A chip in my
windshield left by a
pompous *?#@! in a
red sports car as I
drive to the
service.
Rain expectorating
from an ashen sky as
the dirt is turned.
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
crack in grandma’s
spine from her fall
down the stairs.
The chip in her
amazingly smart mind
after eighteen years
as a teacher.
Tears running,
dripping from my
Mothers ashen face
as she cries “My
mama’s dead.”
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
cracked family
emotions left raw
and empty.
The chip in Grandpas
numb mind at the
gathering… “Where is
Irene she should be
here?”
Faces gone ashen
with dread, do we
leave him numb or
remind him that his
wife is dead?
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
empty silences,
missing the jokes
Grandma used to
crack.
Grandma’s laugh and
her endless smile
which always exposed
that tooth with the
chip in it.
Without her the
world has become
empty, bleak, and
ashen.
Today is terrible.

                   
                   
                   
          Summer
Gratias


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 | Narrative |

Not So Perfect

Here she comes, walking with pride.
Her face is so vibrant, she looks so alive.
Nothing can stop her, no one dares to try.
Her entire life is corroded with deals, tricks, and lies. 
Her beauty is everything, her smile kills all 
It brings down the strongest men, makes the highest building fall.
But when she comes home,
The story does change.
Her life’s not so perfect,
The positions rearrange.
Her father's an alcoholic, and not very nice.
She has a brother who gave up on school, and can’t read or write 
Of all of her family, her mother is the worse. 
Sometimes she wonders if she'll survive this curse.
He mother yells,and tells her that she's no good.
She would give it all up, if only she could.
At the end of the night she goes into her room,
She begins to weep, and eventually cries herself to sleep.
She wakes up the next day,
Puts on a happy face,
And goes to school as if nothing happened the previous night,
Or that absolutely nothing is wrong with her life.
So now that you’ve seen what’s behind the closed door,
I hoped you’ve thought about this girl a little more.
With the utmost respect,
I present to you, the life of someone "perfect".


Details | I do not know? |

my mother

	MY MOTHER
I dedicate this poem to my beloved mother

I miss you mum, I miss you
I know I always will
I’ll never stop loving you
I knew that you were ill
I wanted to take away the pain
I would have done it too
But you just grinned and took it
That is so like you
I remember that look on your face
When you told me you were dying
It seems like it was yesterday
I could not stop crying
I know it’s been a long time
In fact it’s sixteen years
Time will never ease the pain
It cannot stop the tears
I say goodnight to you in bed
And think of you in bed
You’ll always be there in my heart
It doesn’t heal in time
My love for you will never die
And this I know is true
You just remember up above 
I’ll never stop loving you
A large piece of  my heart is gone
But I am not too sad
I remember the memories
And they always make me glad
You are my guardian angel
Who always looks after me
I look up at the stars above
I see you shine,  I see
I hope you like this poem
I made it just for you
Remember I’ll love you always
And I’ll always miss you too




Details | Light Poetry |

A Prayer for my Angel

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.


Details | I do not know? |

I love you mom

Long day at work and it already hurts
To know when I go home it will get nothing but worse

Im tired of going home to an empty fridge 
If she knew she was going to be on drugs why have any kids?

Hurting me to see her who gave me birth
Drugged up on who knows what I sit and sob in a shirt

Constant accusations of things I never do 
I'm going to stop right here wont even mention abuse 

When I step into that house its like a cloud of sadness
Been going on for years no way to stop this madness 

So many tears in my eyes its tearing me apart 
Nothing can add up to the embarassment and shame in my heart 

Expecially when all my friends have the "perfect mom"
Comming home to depression some nights I lay and sob 

What hurts the most Is I dont want to leave
I want to "stay and help mommy" its sad indeed

I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night
Praying to god as I cry to make everything right

"Please lord help my mom work things through"
"Her addiction is getting worse I dont know what to do"

"For her no one is there I dont even think they're aware"
"Infact I am the only one who still even cares"

"Lord I sit and stare as her conditions get worse"
"I need some guidance tell me where to start first"

I lay back in my bed and cry myself to sleep 
Thinking will she ever stop before it gets too deep?

Sunrises in the morning back up for work!
"Positive attitude" policy so I put on a smirk

Headed out the door for another long hard day 
Forcing on a smile thinking "its going to be okay"..


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.


Details | I do not know? |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


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