Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places

War Mother Poems | Mother Poems About War

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

12345
Details | Acrostic |

THE WAR BRIDE

                               Yes, an English rose is magnificent for it possesses a regal 
                                lushness that opens the heart, but its true beauty- 
                                its deep seeded secret- is how well it thrives on foreign soils. 

                                                                                          ~Cyndi MacMillan~


   ________________________________________________________________


G allantly wooed, she became quite beguiled,
R evered soldier lost his heart, overseas.
A ir raids and firestorms, moments fragile, 
N ooks hid the young lovers, defiantly.

W hen he proposed, she turned, wept silently,
A nguished, behind black drapes* prayed a new bride,
S irens would scream, bombs made hellish banshees...
A nd the torment replayed each eventide.

C adence of passion mutes all noise hostile,
A dversity bonds, two soon would be three,
N ow far from his side, our rose was exiled*,
A t dawn left his red-eyed evacuee. 
D ivided, and yet love was mailed daily,
I solated by miles of vast countryside,
A fter a short time, their son came to be,
N ightly, his father touched pictures with pride.

W hile he defended her Beloved isle,
A nxiously, she boarded the Queen Mary*,
R ocking her scared boy, each gale was reviled . . .
 
B ut on Pier 21* he clapped, happy,
R ain veiled train* windows, homesick was she.
I t took two winters 'til she heard his stride,
D ear that December, Oh, sweet unity!
E vermore one, their love never died. 


   ____________________________________________________________



NOTES

*During WWII, Germany's bombing strategy of London, known as the Blitz, 
made it mandatory to draw black curtains at night to hide lights which were
 targetted by bombers. Children and pregnant women where evacuated from 
London to rural areas of England, where they stayed with host families. 
The Queen Mary was one of the more notable ships which carried war brides
 to Canada. War brides arrived at Pier 21 in Halifax, Nova Scotia before 
boarding trains, known as "Diaper Specials" The immigration of war
brides to Canada was known as 'Operation Daddy".

**By Cyndi MacMillan, For Constance’s "Write It Deep And Dramatic, Please " Contest. This poem is both acrostic and  3 (divided) Hutains.

***Dedicated to a true English Rose, Florence Gordon, my grandmother and a war bride.


Details | Rhyme |

My mother, my earth.

Into the light I see,
with rays in clouds and warmth in me.
Brittle is the air around,
no voice is there, nor sweeter sound.

Within my scars and broken back,
there are my kin, there love I lack.
The oceans turn, therefore I weep,
Is it truly my tears to keep?

Now the mountains begin to fall,
like sand and dust to death they call.
I hear my children bleed and cry,
there bellies thirst and almost dry.

Some will seat and eat there fill,
"lets help them now, so now we will!
His mother would find pride within,
a pretty thing this life of sin.

Alas, my days are almost through,
my breath, my flesh and heart is too.
Let this be my final song,
for war alone is for the strong.

Into the night I see,
is there still love left for me?


Details | Verse |

I'm Going Home

,

Lord thank you for this life,
As I have lived a full life,
It was not always as I would have like,
But I lived it to the best of what I could,
I’m going home; Home to the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been a long weary believer, 
As I’ve been away to long,
I now know what I’ve been searching for, 
As He's been there in me all along,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been and seen lots of places in life’s journey,
Now I yearn for familiar faces in familiar places,
I hear familiar voices calling me to come home, 
I see familiar faces looking at me,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
My time is near, the hour I know not,
I see Jesus' face across the Heaven’s,
I hear His soft sweet voice calling me home,
 I can’t wait for my real life to begin,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me.

By; Rev. Samuel and Esta Mack, OMS
Copyright 2011

VISIT US AT: http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com


Details | Lyric |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | Couplet |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


Details | Free verse |

10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes

10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Every day she will arise to go to work 9-5 flipping burger's and dunking fry's.
10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Every day hold's a new surprise from those 10 little fingers 10 little toes and 2 little eyes.
one day shell realize 10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes are not so little any more.
Those 10 little fingers get bigger and one has a ring on it.
Those 10 little toe's get bigger no longer barefoot a boot on each.
Those 2 little eyes no longer so little looking strait up the middle ready for combat.
10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Her 10 Little finger's 5 little toe's 2 little eye's finally come home.
and like I said 10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes saved Their life.


Details | I do not know? |

Mama I got it

I'll be damned

What did doctor ..say?

You got 3 good years..

Your wrong doctor...!

I need you mama..

Well you can't come here.

Why?

You just can't bring it here...

Where will I go?

don't know ...but not here!

I cried for someone to hold me..

I called my sponsor Craig

I need a place to live?

He said you can sleep in front room

I did ok

I still hurt

didn't know what to do.

Depended on the giving nature of strangers.

Learned what I needed to know

Wish I could speak to mama..

But I need to move on. Why?

Because mama I got! HIV






This happens a good bit, but know that you will be ok just like me..30 yrs HIV  survivor..my names TG  Green


Details | Free verse |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Burlesque |

Suburban Spring

Suburban Spring	
(4.15.10)


	Springtime fills the air, 
			like laughing gas.
		(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
	Middle-class houses 
			are starting to dance.
		(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.

			I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
				Confused and intrigued, 
		with a slight urge to pee.

	The father cuts grass, 
			like a sleepwalker.
		(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
	A six pack later, 
			he starts washing his car.
		(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.

	The mother kneels in dirt, 
			tending the garden.
		(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty.  (Figuratively, at least.)
	A sunset later, 
			she cooks family dinner.
		(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)

			I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.

	The son plays war games, 
			dying for fun.
		(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
	A full pitcher later, 
			tweaking on sugar,
		(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.

	The daughter makes a picnic, 
			inviting her toys.
		(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
	After the tea time, 
			she's off picking flowers.
		(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)

		They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
		They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."  
			(And proceed to stuff their face.)

	The dog sits by the boy - 
			Loyal and true.
		(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
	After dinner, 
                     he offers to help with the dishes.
		(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite.  The dog is not surprised.

	Bedtime comes soon after.  
			The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
		(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
	After tucking them in, 
			the parents watch TV.
		(Or maybe they just dream they do, 
					sleeping in its glow.)

	The dog is changing channels, 
			looking for a better show.
				Confused and intrigued, 
		he pees on the carpet below.


12345