My mother’s hair hung thick and to her waist.
But seldom did she wear it in that way,
for always in a bun she had it placed
til it was loosed and on her pillow lay.
She sometimes tells me how I'd kidded her.
When I was small, I said, “Your hair is pink!”
From how she tells this story, I infer
I must have caused her tender heart to sink.
She aged, yet grey was sparse upon her head.
We said, “An older woman cuts her hair.”
Mom acquiesced and lost those locks rare red
she’d humbly worn for years when young and fair.
She’s nearly eighty now, bobbed hair turned brown,
And how I miss her once “pink” glory crown.
By Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
She brought me into this world with her love,
One of the precious gifts from up above,
From her womb ‘til I stand on my own feet,
She did everything for my benefit.
She was my first teacher and she was stern,
For her, in life I have so much to learn,
Sometimes, with her great love I’m also hurt,
She is not perfect, but she wants the best.
I salute her for being a martyr ,
Serving her family who is so dear,
She is my sunshine during stormy day,
My guidance and strength when I lost my way.
I’m so lucky that she is my mother
I am of what I am because of her.
May 14, 2013 5.30 pm
A dedication to my loving mom. That's really her. Ever since, she works so hard for the family as a dressmaker. She'd sacrificed a lot for us especially when we were young( my 2 brothers and I) because according to her and my dad, we were so sickly especially when we were still babies ;))).I love her so much and I'm so proud of her. HAPPY HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
Contest: Mother and precious poems
Sponsor: My loving sis & greatest poet, PD
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013
Dancing butterflies and laughter
without a care. A day full of sweet
smelling blossoms fill the air.
Sister's golden hair glistened in the
Summer sun's glow, as Mother blew
colorful bubbles that bounced off
her little nose.
Mother's heart was always full of
love to share and the day of blossoms,
and bubbles will forever in my memories
be kept with loving care.
Precious and few are moments shared
together. This wonderful day of blossoms
and bubbles, in my heart will last forever.
April 6, 2015
Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015
Shall I compare thee to your mother's arse?
Thou aren’t more lovely, but more flatulent.
Rough winds do shake it; and bring on a farce
And all her clothes hath all too short a rent
Sometime too hot-headed of hell doth burn,
And often is the true nature exposed;
And every foul from fowl; my stomach churns,
By reason, or by nature's raging closed.
But thy infernal diet shall ne’er start
Nor gain possession of which now I grasp;
Nor shall we meet again; let’s stay apart,
When in eternal sounds the voice does rasp,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can cry,
So long lives this, and I bid thee goodbye.
Copyright © Flippant She-Creature | Year Posted 2012
I bet you didn’t know about the fairies
assigned to all the infants that are born.
At night beside her precious charge each tarries
while softly crooning lullabies till morn.
An extra special fairy will be sent
to first-time mothers of a girl or boy,
for when the harried fretting mom is spent,
she only has to look upon her joy.
As magic dust releases from above,
the mother sighs and holds her baby near.
Then particles illuminate the love
of one who coos while cradling her dear.
As fairies go, there simply is no other
as blessed as she who serves the child and mother.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
Mom, I only talk with you by cell phone.
Our voices through the miles of air waves go.
You moved to an apartment. On your own,
you manage, though less spry than years ago.
I think about the times you read to me,
instilling love for fiction in my heart.
We didn't have a car, so through our city
we'd walk to places like the super mart.
Today I exercise, and that's for YOU!
You cooked and cleaned for us. Without a doubt,
you cheered us on in all we tried to do.
And how we loved your tales we laughed about!
Your heart, like Time, ticks on, yet Time can't steal
our memories - before life got so real!
This poem written for the “Who Do You Think I Am” Contest of Richard Lamoureux
after I read his thoughtful poem “Before and Beyond the Bed,” which he also dedicated to a mutual friend, Armand. The lines from his poem that resonated with me were these:
"What I miss most
Yes most of all is laughter
Playful exchanges -
Those times no one else existed
the moments when we were the best of us
before life became real"
Check out Richard's entire poem here: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/before_and_beyond_the_bed_653986
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
A mother carried you in her womb,
Her happiness moment is when you were born and she met you.
A mother is tender and nurtures you.
She does everything to take care of you.
A mother is your protector who keeps you out of harms way.
She worries about you night and day.
A mother is your supporter and inspiration.
She guides you in the right direction.
A mother is your comfort when you need an ear,
She is the only one who is true and dear.
A mother sets an example,
There is nothing too great for her to handle.
A mother's love is unconditional,
All the decisions she makes are rational.
A mother is valuable and strong,
Not afraid to tell you what's right when you're wrong.
A mother does everything to give you what you need,
She's there cheering you on to succeed.
A mother will always be your mother,
She is irreplaceable because you will never get another.
A mother goes over and beyond,
Nothing can come in between a mother and her child's bond.
A mother is truly a gift that needs to be appreciated,
She is the reason why you were created.
A mother would die for you,
She lives her life for you.
A mother sacrifices her wants for yours,
She is your own personal super hero and more.
May 10, 2014
~The One and Only~
Copyright © Pamela Bland | Year Posted 2014
Mother, I pray for your forgiveness as it was me,
I had to let you go and it never leaves my mind;
It was me who made the decision to set you free,
I was the one they came seeking for papers to sign.
There was nothing I could do to change your fate,
I would have done anything even given my own life;
The decision was so difficult and it could not wait,
My heart was stabbed with a blood-soaked knife.
With each gasping, breath you took in this world,
I kept asking is there nothing that can be done;
Oh I hated what had to be, it still twirls and whirls,
I asked the Lord why, why did I have to be the one.
Can you forgive me mother, for letting you go,
You were so kind and sweet and I loved you so.
September 24, 2015
For the contest, Forgiveness, sponsor, Craig Cornish
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
The pool grows green through the leaf cover.
Large pears hang upon ancient tree.
Mocking Bird sings chanting to his lover;
As the dew sparkles, like water in the sea.
Crepe Myrtle has turned red how time has passed.
Moma admired some trees said they were pretty.
Daddy dug up a few runners, oh! memories from past.
In most things, think of daddy how witty__
Daddy brought (them) here to brighten moma's life
To give her something pretty to enjoy.
Today I enjoy them, this is reallife.
Now as I look at them they are my buoy
Clouds are coming in hiding the sun rays
But their light and life brightens my days_
For Nancy's contest;
Contest name: Gratitude
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2011
Behind your closet door,
a monster, you decide,
has moved the toys aside
to snooze upon the floor.
So near you'll hear him snore
you fear, from there inside.
So I, this very night,
when certain you have been
kissed on your cherry chin
and loved with all my might,
in just the gentle light
the moon and stars let in,
will hold you safe and tight
until your dreams begin...
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
In the Christmas Freeze of 1983
Mama thought she lost her Oleander tree
Some called it a “bush,” but at 14 feet tall
Its shadow cast wide on her home’s southern wall
How she mourned the loss of this beloved plant
She begged the Lord for any blessing He’d grant
The freeze ended soon, though her tree appeared dead
The scent of water each day clung to its bed
On January twenty-fourth, the call came
Dad said mom entered God’s heavenly domain
A neighbor had found her, lying in the yard
Next to remnants of a plant she’d not discard
In May a miracle appeared to occur
The strong plant revived, as if waiting for her
*True occurrence based on my mother’s death, January 24, 1984.
Poem written July 12, 2014
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014
The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared
He stared back at his life amazed
a scattering of miracles here and there
many cried out that he was crazed
when he gave that stern look and stare
Back there vast plains loudly waved
forested jungles crept up so very slow
Nature he wanted touched and saved
a tragedy of pain that the angels know
Dry, dead cities awaited his return
the man that set beauty in the blue sky
his life , a tree destined to burn
walking where others feared to even try
A man among men they admired and feared
the best any mother ever birthed and reared!
Robert J. Lindley, 02-27-2015
note: Dedicated to H D L ....
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Inspired by; Constance La France’s Native American Portrait
Nikan is a man who once stood proud and true all across this land
in symbiotic relation with nature endowed by the great creators hand
passed onto him by his ancestors to never take more than his fair share
and always be kind to this land for it’s the Mother to all whom she shall bare
When times are lean we all will grow thin together for together we are one
with one voice to sing in harmony for bountiful harvest to our Father the Sun
and give him thanks and praise for warming and making fertile our Mother
who blessed new life into the birthing seasons for every Sister and Brother
Great spirit hear my song of hope that I sing for my people who will cry
we are mighty on the earth give us protection or your children they will die
and our people’s blood will flow upon our Mother like deep rivers of raging red
O’ Father I can see no solution will you spare us from the white mans dread
I could never make claim to imagine this great man’s woeful sorry or despair
Nikan's song is a lonely tune played for the spirit of his people upon the air.
Nikan traslation from the Potawatomi "MY Friend"
Baamaapii Nikan.......until we meet again my friend
Copyright © Edwin Baldwin | Year Posted 2011
Billions of journeys round a fiery eye
This watery celestial traveler made.
Untiring, spiraling route through the sky
Always returned from yearly crusades.
She carried her children on top her back
And nurtured their needs until they have grown.
Some may have suffered; those may have cracked
But never through any fault of her own.
Forever and always maternally
This wondrous, aging beauty shall remain
Our source of life atmospherically.
Through time and space her dimensions attained
Despite her journeys she managed to bring
Her gifts: summer, autumn, winter and spring.
Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2009
Mother still round, in love with child anew
Easy to overlook the subtle hints
Of the fracture within, trained eye sees clue
Eighty-two shines your number, bluish tint.
Tearful farewell, fated day has arrived.
Pained mother’s face as we pass through the door
Invisible cord stretch, tense and alive
Umbilical phantom limb evermore.
With tubes, scalpel, we enter sacred space.
The threshold crossed, commitment becomes real
To hold numbers, sounds, instead of your face.
The care within transmutes into sharp steel
Foreshortened, stolen, your time may well be
Yet you touch the hearts of all who touch thee.
Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016
When you miss a child,
Of your very own,
That is your flesh and blood,
You begin to wonder,
Where did you go wrong,
In your own life,
Instead of looking,
At the beautiful life,
This you must remember,
So many of the difficult times,
Cause of the times you did share together,
For your children will remember more,
Than you really want to give them credit for,
And they will always remember you,
As their loving parent,
For loving them so much,
More than you will ever know,
And you will never forget them,
Just as you hope,
You will never be forgotten,
From their lives,
Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013
Sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
By the sea, she oft let her spirits clench
to the lore of love where I once grew.
She watches seagulls dive for a quench,
as waves predispose to catch her view;
sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
O, look how she put the sun to blench,
giving her the sea in note less mew,
which let a startling night, to unscrew
stars to dance, anew, that in elench
sweet mother loves sitting on a bench,
the spray painted seat she only knew!
- inspired by Brian Strand's A Rondel Poetry Contest
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2010
A Dirty Basement Room
In a dirty basement room a baby cries
Weakened mother was defiled
Forced my law to birth a child
Upon a dirty pillow she lies
In a dirty room the mother dies
Mother and son soon reconciled
Victims of government gone wild
A time to live a time to die
Angry rapist walks streets free
Will they listen to her plea?
In a dirty basement room a baby cries
Angry rapist runs streets free
In a dirty basement room mother dies
Will they listen to her plea?
Copyright © Linda Barr | Year Posted 2012
DEMETER AT THE CHINESE OPERA
So, I invited you to the Chinese Opera impulsively
Thinking of masks and dragons and triumphant mystery
I though it was time we threw off our coats
Of mourning, you for your daughter
Stopping one night, on the way home from a party,
So randomly, cruelly, killed by the monster
Who has slain more than all the century’s wars
And my private sorrow for which there is no funeral.
I remember your straying husband also
Loved the Chinese Opera. What will happen
If we all meet between the acts?
Surely forgiveness will come like snow on the mountain
And we will live in a harmony that can never be suppressed
In a slow majestic music that takes account of grief.
(C) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2014
Can I tell you, Mom, that I love you?
You smile so bright it lights up a room,
I can’t help appreciate all that you do,
Like you make luscious flowers bloom.
Rough winds do try to shake your beauty,
You stand tight and hold steady.
Raising me was your solemn duty,
When being there for me, you were always ready.
But though your age, your job shall not end,
For your job as a mother will be vigorous,
You will always have a helping hand to lend,
And that is why you’re marvelous!
When your brown hair gets all white and gray,
I’ll be there to help you like you do today.
Copyright © Emma H | Year Posted 2013
A mother’s face you rarely touch and kiss
You go on with life without retrospect
Mother waits longer but with finesse
Many flowers withered from willful neglect
A short respite giving fresh breath inside her womb
Empowering new life without remorse
Her presence helped you strive with aplomb
With your mother, you’ll be on the right course
Such a lovely face you cannot assess
A portrait to paint with high pixels of respect
Her smile that relieves all your stress
Today is Mother’s Day and try to recollect
Now her face wrinkled but beyond compare
Like heavenly bodies with unique flare
12 May 2013
Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2013
Little doll with curly hair, how did God
Make you so fair? With big eyes color sky
And with skin as rose as a healthy child...
Fall asleep as you hear my sweetest lullaby!
The radiant moon has come into your dreams,
What can she offer you: if not moonbeams?
And as you breathe, you resemble a cherub
That Rafael imagined to be you in that crib
When happy angels gathered and whispered,
" Little doll, gently lay on your golden head."
This nursery rhyme you will learn in time,
And sing it to yourself when church bells chime.
You'll long for a hand to caress your cheeks...
feeling its warmth while you will float on dreams.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2011
MOTHER’S LITTLE KILLERS
She hates them, the unguent power
Which sticks her fairy wings together
Making impossible the ivory tower
Of disinterested passion, the if and whether
Of generic names, the ultimate aloneness.
The honest answer is to unstick
The loathsome epithets accompanying the mess
Let her soul free with a lexographic brick
As she goes on her desert train to limbo -
Grant her freedom to ride into the dusk
Without turning her into a soulless bimbo,
Pills shedding the epigrammatic husk,
Cavorting in the lunar satellite,
A spaced monkey too drugged to fight
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015
You left us on the Fourth of July
Now my heart is filled with unexpected pain
I remember when you would say to look at the sky
To find the moon, now that is on memory lane.
You would sing us the sweetest lullaby
Even though you were far away
And simple phone call to pacify
The miles traveled in a day
But ever since the day you've been gone,
I've succeeded in many things you'd be proud of
It has been so hard for us to move on
I just keep thinking of you up above
No matter the miles that keep is apart
You will forever and always be in my heart.
Copyright © Gabrielle Caudill | Year Posted 2015
Luzerne County Community College
I further my education right there
Being there really increased my knowledge
W-S-F-X was on the air
I was the promotion director there
and I hosted Campus Talk a few times
Associate’s Decree without despair
and having a family more than dimes
back in High School college wasn’t in mind
Working out at sea college wasn’t bad
college did get me ready for the grind
and for a moment my mother was glad
but most of all I learn more poetry
and my writing makes me feel truly free
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
Our rising worship! Oh, perfect love of Mother and Child
is understood by adoring eyes. Eager hearts pray,
from the eternal breath of babe. Lifted high, strong yet mild,
He foretells of forgiveness and whispers agape.
Upon Mary's chest, lie His heavenly dreams -
a love of no measure born unto a Virgin
and sins evermore are assuredly redeemed
as God's blessed Mother cradles creation.
Her womb brought forth Light, the Savior of man.
Her gentle touch nurtured God's only Son.
The sacrifice, His blood shed to quench a dry land.
Prophecy fulfilled, so no soul shall be shunned.
Inspire us precious babe upon Mary's chest.
Mother's unfailing love gives comfort and rest.
*Inspired by Anguissola's Virgin and Child.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2013
When all alone, quiet, and lost in thought,
I see again the times when I was young.
I smile for attention I often sought,
Knowing if I was sad then you would come.
You would dry the teardrops that then would flow,
Be my bedside nurse on a restless night.
A soothing word and I'd forget my woe,
Consoled that you were not far from my sight.
Your wrath confused me when I misbehaved,
Never believing I was ever wrong.
But now I see love through your stormy rage.
With your wise words I have grown, oh so strong.
So when I think of you, Mother and friend,
All regrets are over, all sorrows end.
Copyright © Ken Duddle | Year Posted 2012
Afore falling in his arms they advice to think twice
Unregretful I act beyond my surprise
It’s the grip of a force, a force here to claim
Compelling, like a moth drawn to the flame
Every night encloses the heat of flaming souls
But sun kissed morning plays a wicked role
To my realization it brings an obvious question
What next to prevent conception?
Like always, I pop in a pill to save the bill
My guy admires the worth of a contraceptive pill
It causes side-effects. Ah! How would he know?
He enjoys the freedom of reckless show
Nevertheless, I look at kids and admire their innocence
Wish the pill could kill within me my maternal pretence!
Copyright © Neha Godambe | Year Posted 2012
They’ve traveled from one house to another.
Some may say they’re strong enough to go on
Without a woman to call their mother.
Attachment is pointless, soon to be gone.
Another house that will never be home.
Little children crying themselves to sleep,
wondering where they will be next to roam.
All they can do is to hope and to weep.
Will they love me enough now, I wonder.
Shall I go away or shall I stay here?
At night, I can still hear the loud thunder
of his footsteps drawing so very near.
Though I may never find my one true home,
For love, I’ve found- I’m no longer alone.
Copyright © Lilith Rodriguez | Year Posted 2014
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"
I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!
I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!
He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!
"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
and then I vowed to get us in the game!
I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!
"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!
Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
while I choked up--and readied for a hit!
All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"
The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!
I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!
The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!
The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!
The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!
The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"
Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
and on his heels--I made my promise good!
We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!
The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!
I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me!
Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013