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Thanksgiving Mother Poems | Mother Poems About Thanksgiving

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

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Details | Free verse |

A Thanksgiving Tongue Bathing

Tender pats of a grateful mum
Saved from deaths door and sure scorching
The heat and ash were so close to overpowering
When a savior reached out and lifted us to safety....

How can I say thankyou, you are my hero?
I have not words but an overflowing heart
I give what I have....a tender touch
As I wipe the dust from your eyes


**Written about a picture of a mother dog that was rescued along with her pups from a burning 
building by a brave fireman. The mother dog licked his face tenderly to say thanks for your help!


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 | Epigram |

Mom - You are my harmonious World

                       The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
                                         wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

 Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!! 


      MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many years..you are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my life..you struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt you..you always shower with an unconditional love..you are the  mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my life..my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..



wrote by:
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare


Details | Rhyme |

A Painful Thanksgiving Night

A Painful Thanksgiving Night… As I sit here this Thanksgiving night I can do nothing else but write. My family’s in the other room So, why do I feel all this gloom? When we arrived late last night I thought for sure I would be alright. Even though it took everything in me To take that 3 hour drive you see. Each and every time I come All I want to do is run. Run away and never turn back A family bond I sure do lack. A mother’s love is what I crave But a hug and money is all she gave. My sisters and I we try and try To understand mother as the years go by. But nothing about her ways makes sense She’s cold and hard and always on the defense. Through the years she’s done much wrong But the love of my mother I still do long. Though the bad memories of her will never erase I prayed through my kids they might be replaced. Maybe they would chase away her pain And my love for her would not be in vain. When they’re around her it’s clear to see There’s nothing left, no mystery. Who she is; is what she’ll be All I see is a repeat of history. A history filled with hurt and pain To protect my children I must break the chain. This chain has bound me in so many ways It almost claimed my life - on several days. Lay


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)


Details | Rhyme |

Time to Go in loving memory of my mother

My mom was a strong woman, and stubborn too,
Yet she had a soft side, between me and you.
That side she would show, when you least expected,
But let me tell you, she was well respected.

Mom was quite unique, and was one of a kind,
She was set in her ways, so keep that in mind.
The youngest of nine, she had gotten her way,
Spoiled by her siblings’, almost every day.

Right out of high school, she had married my dad,
Blessed with three children, plus fifty years they had.
They both were hard workers, in all that they did,
My dad taught himself, from when he was a kid.

My mom was a smoker, for forty-six years,
Some day it would happen, she’d face all her fears.
Lung cancer she had, and inoperable too,
Her time on this earth, would be shortened we knew.

Radiation and Chemo, had done their thing,
Remission set in, tears of joy it did bring.
We would go out at night, to shop and to talk,
I knew she enjoyed, getting out for a walk.

Two years had gone by, after Thanksgiving Day,
Her pain had returned, but was afraid to say.
She’d lie on the couch; it was strength she did lack,
We knew in our hearts, that the cancer came back.

We shared lots of laughter, but many a tear,
I tried to assure her, she’d nothing to fear.
“Please watch over your dad, this one thing I ask.”
“I know it will be, quite a difficult task.”

One morning in March, Hospice called us to say,
You may want to come, for she’s slipping away.
For the night before, mom told me to stay home,
“Be there for your kids, you can call me by phone.”

When we all arrived, for a moment she woke,
Her eyes said it all, not a word had she spoke.
We stayed by her bedside, just holding her hand,
“It’s time to let go mom, we all understand”.

A few days had passed, not ready to let go,
For it had been raining, but letting up slow.
The sun began shining, the clouds disappeared,
Opening the heavens, for mom’s time has neared.

We gathered together, her forehead we kissed,
Whispering so softly, how much she’d be missed.
“Your time has arrived mom, just follow the light”,
She left us so peaceful, she gave up her fight.

It was time to drive home, in the car we got,
Then something had happened, while leaving the lot.
Huge drops of rain falling, it had to be fate.
They were tears of joy; she was at heaven’s gate.


Details | Rhyme |

The Generations

The time has come to step aside.
It’s been a very lovely ride.
I trained my darling daughter well.
It’s she who rings the dinner bell
on holidays and lets me rest.
She aces each and every test.  

Proving herself every bit as able
as I to set Thanksgiving table,
she feeds her twenty-two hungry guests
without a sign of being stressed.
So I feel needed, I surmise,
she allowed me to make the pies.

She never loses her sweet smile.
For each grandchild she stops awhile
to hug, to listen and to praise
as I did in the olden days.
Daughter, mother and grandmother,
she’s as good at one role as the other.

The day will come I know it’s true
when she will give soup ladle to
her own sweet daughter next in line.
She’ll step aside this child of mine,
to sit and rest and watch her daughter
do as  her loving mother taught her.

I watch her now with love and pride
this woman whom I helped to guide
to the super mother she became.
Her daughters now are in the game. 
They’re teaching the new generation
to be the next great mom sensation.

And so it has been through the years,
moms giving love and shedding tears,
each passing on her mothering lore
learned from mothers who came before. 













Details | Narrative |

Thanksgiving Is Just That

It's funny how we associate things.  They become one with each other.  Who can imagine an Easter without the bunny, or losing a tooth and not being paid a visit by the tooth fairy.  And Christmas would be unthinkable without Santa.  So that is why, I guess, that I still remember one particular Thanksgiving from my youth.

Back then, turkeys at the market were fresh, not frozen and encased in plastic as they are today.  They also represented an extra expense on an already tight food budget.  So my mother made arrangements with the market manager to set up a layaway of sorts, paying some each week, and they promised to hold one for her.

I remember when, on the afternoon before Thanksgiving day, she sent me over to the grocer to pick up the turkey.  I jumped on my bike and rode downtown to Converse Market.  Walking up to the door, I found it locked.  Shading my eyes, I pressed my nose against the window and saw that all the lights were off.  Turns out they had closed early that day to give their employees a little more time to spend with their families.

When I returned home and told my mother what had happened, the look on her face was one of devastation.  What would Thanksgiving be without a turkey?  I thought my dad would be mad, but instead he just said “we've got food in the house don't we”?  And we did.

So, although the letdown of a Thanksgiving without the traditional bird could have been a disaster,  on that particular day, we chose instead to give thanks for what we had, and, as a family, dived into our pork chops with all the fixings.


11/19/2011


Details | Rhyme |

An Ode to Turkeys

An Ode to Turkeys
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

I
There was a time, year one thousand A.D
U.S. turkeys faced a brand new plight.
Usefulness seen.
Native American's hunting delight. 
The white meat of a turkey is quite lean.
So much healthier than man knew before,
Nothing one ever could say,
In any way,
Would make Americans free turkeys anymore.

II
Thanksgiving comes and goes.
Wild turkey gobbling slows.
Ben Franklin watched their plight.
Nominated, though laughter did flare.
Turkeys beneath the moonlight
Were beautiful out there.
Ben suggested, turks as the nation's bird.
But eagles know, it was not so.
And turks in history endured this nations birth.

III
Although wild turkeys can run fast and fly,
Toms might in spring be found.
Fluffing, dancing around.
Caruncle and waddle shiny, bright red
Courting the hens, showing off, prancing, not dead.  
Although turkeys fly strong,
The hunters by day kept watch in the fields.
Until, Old Tom, no more sang passion's song
And hens under bushes sat on eggs long.
When chicks hatched out and played their mother shields.
But on Thanksgiving Day...
Run away!


Note: Carolyn, thanks for the video suggestion.  It is very funny.  I decided to post the link 
here.  The HISTORICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1213z9KHNs  
(TIME HEALS ALL: We do LOVE you, MOTHER ENGLAND... from you we were BORN.)
The HYSTERICAL one is found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnLyqBtU_F8

ENJOY the FUN!


Details | Triolet |

Mom Is Just Mom (Triolet Poem)

Mom is just mom when she wants to be,
I wish she was more independant in life.
What I write is the truth, she'd probably agree.

Maybe she didn't do a good job as a wife,
Put down the alcohol and look towards God.
Because He is the one who will make things right.

This past Thanksgiving I didn't sense your love
You didn't cook Turkey, no family was present.
I left and you didn't even give me a loving hug.

Since I became a Muslim, I'm not feeling your presence,
You also act different in front of my girl,
I guess mom is just mom, that's my life's lesson.

Hopefully situations will get better for you
And one day you'll realize in this world what is true.


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