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Free Verse Mother Poems | Free Verse Poems About Mother

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

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Details | Free verse |

Poems I Posted The Morning After My Mother Passed Away


you were an infant
i would sing a song i created for you

'there's a baby in my arms
there's a baby in the mirror
but honey 
there's not really two
the child in the mirror
is only 
an image 
of you'

in that same vein i write this

_

you can't hide inside a mirror
it wouldn't be good for your image
if you see what i mean
take a minute to reflect on that thought
frame it as you will
raise a glass to good cheers
this isn't the time to crack
or 
feel shattered 
no 
it is the exact reverse

like skipping a rock across the smooth surface of a lake
seven skips of good luck
because you are the fairest of them all

looking back at yourself 
keeping it compact
as you duplicate your own words 
impossible to read from the other side
this echo of your vision

the epitome of a prototype replicates

ditto 

who is the quintessential hero and who is the fake

go through that rabbit hole -straight to wonderland

bedazzle -radiate -glimmer -scintillate 
deflect
the glare will define you

you have not now or have ever been a duplicate
you are and will always be the one and only
-


Oct 2 2017 - love above all else love - armand

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

BONUS POEM

But Tell Me Where Do The Children Play 

you can't lie your way to the truth
what we teach our children 
should apply to us too
you took a wrong turn
check your moral compass
the needle is spinning faster
than a bottle in search of a kiss 
what would our mother think
if she knew what you were up to
you're changing everything she fought for
in her life children mattered
like the singing preacher asked
such a long time ago
'...where do the children play...'

you can argue climate change
but you can't deny the quality of the air your breathing
when did we start bottling water just to take a drink
the taps are bleeding led 
too late to fix the guts of generations who drank it with trust
how do you look at a storm in the eye
didn't you already prove your blind
or do you keep yours closed so no one can look in
look deep inside your heart 

'...tell me, where do the children play?…'

Oct 2 2017- armand

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL

Me? I Saw More.

the clown danced like a marionette 
his painted face featured a grimace
and

and a tear

me?
i saw more

i smiled
no fear here

a performer 
an amazing mime artist
a procurer of pathos

he was pulling a little red wagon
with a large orange hard ball
walking on the spot
performing 'funny'

me?
i saw more

we often have to carry more 
than we think we can handle
our shoulders grow
atlas carried the earth on his shoulder
when we think we can do no more
we do even more than we need to

i saw more
the power of one
we don't need help
we need initiative 
no brother or sister's need
is less important than our own
'give and you shall receive'

we are all more
it takes a strong child 
to raise the values of a village
i can't win unless we all win
we have tried the blame game
five thousand years later

nothing

we are being led by weak men
want bigger and bigger guns
at a time when we have enough weapons
destroy the earth hundreds of times over

money is 
has always been
evil

me?
i see more
i see you
and you 
and you

ghandi was right then
ghandi is right now

do you see

Oct 2 2017- armand

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL TOO

Firefly


i am going to touch you
like a firefly touches 
the dead of night
lights the obscurity 

i want to illuminate 
the pitch dark of your perspective 
inject a bright glow of hope
cleanse your thoughts of the negative

did you argue today 
felt regret
did the daily news invade your cheer
turned your 'in the pink' to something 'blue'

i am going to reignite  your sense of calm
wave a wand -make your heart smile 
warm your complexion to a glow
spread your goodwill worldwide

life i assure you isn't a rotting corpse
you have the strength 
rise above the doom and gloom
you are presently living

the alternative is an untimely exit
unnecessary 
i believe in laughter
and i believe in unconditional love

more
i believe when your back is against the wall
persistence will create a door
a passageway out of the muck and mire

no matter how thick the fog
it only takes a breeze
to clear a path
one you can ride to your destination of choice

Oct 2 2017- armand

—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—?—

BONUS POEM THE REBOOT

Colour Me Ill 

i tried to fly today
nothing deep here
this isn't that type of poem
didn't go that well
i fell flat on my fa fa fa face
(pardon my stutter
a temporary side effect of the fa fa fa fall)

i wasn't writing any poetry
at the hospital either
all joking aside 
there was a lot of blood
did you know that doctors 
have no sense of humour

i was slurring anyways
you gotta love that morphine
they were cleaning up the blood
i said thanks dr. acula 

not even a snicker
and i'm not speaking of a chocolate bar
wasn't even my joke
stole it from Mitch Hedburg

coincidentally the doctor left me in stitches

the nurse said she was taking me for an X-ray 
i didn't really hear her but she was a knockout
something ..x 
sounded go go good to me
i was running in front of the wheelchair she was pushing
i was excited

we got somewhere 
she left
you gotta love that morphine
i must of impressed them
they thought i was a model
they took pictures of me
Bi Bi Big pictures
you should of seen the size of the negatives 
i ordered ten sets 

they pushed me outside and left
pa pa par for this course

suddenly my nurse date was back
they always come back

aanndd 
she's gone 


Oct. 2 2017- armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


Details | Free verse |

March 19 Memories

Mama….it’s today
The chalendar shouts it
Today
15 years ago..you breathed your last
and I still see you in dreams
and I still miss you, Mama

I’m sitting here
in front of the screen 
wondering….what it would be like
to see your smile again
wondering if you’d be proud of my work
I write, Mama
I write poetry
But you knew that
I wrote you many poems
and you loved my lines

You always believed in me
and you believed that one day
I’d make it as a writer
and you made me promise
to always sign my maiden name
after everything I write
so that the world would know
where the talent came from
you were so proud of me

I’m crying, Mama
I’m crying
I miss you so much
You made me who I am
I’m just another reflection of you
the woman
in love with words
in love with life
in love with people
in love with passion
the teacher
the well respected Bible scholar
the one with a caring heart whom
everyone adored...
the one with the ready smile

But MS had a hold on you
even before I came to be
and I had to witness
you succumbing to its power
It changed my happy dreams
into nightmares of losing you
Blood
Stiches
Broken bones
Burns
I saw it all, Mama
As I was growing up…
I saw it all
And I died a million deaths
Waiting for the time that you would go
And you left, Mama
You left me

You prayed to go
to be free from your wheelchair
He heard…
He answered…
and you are asleep in Him now
waiting for the trumpet call
when you will be awaked from your slumber
Free….
your smile no longer crooked
your body no longer bent
your voice beautiful again...
how you mourned the loss of your voice, Mama
you will sing again…
you will run and dance
and pick flowers

I will be there, Mama
When you awake up..
I will be there to hold you and kiss you
and thank you for giving me life
and making me who I am
But for now…Mama,
I need to cry
I miss you…

March 19 is always a reminder
of what I’ve missed all these years
a mother beside me
to guide me and love me
and to tell me that everything 
everything is going to be Ok in the end
but I carry you in my heart
now and forever…

You are with me, Mama
I love you!
I'll see you on the other side!
where there will be no more death
no more crying or sickness or pain
no more MS!
only joy...
March 19 will be no more
Only eternity!!!!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Isaiah 57: 1 & 2- The righteous perish,
    and no one takes it to heart;
the devout are taken away,
    and no one understands
that the righteous are taken away
    to be spared from evil.
2 Those who walk uprightly
    enter into peace;
    they find rest as they lie in death. 


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

QUIETUDE AND BOOM



I decorate a grotto for you, Mama where orchids and holy images embellish this special place and day, that saintly icons guard you there as if they beg me to be released from years of guilty devotion… Yet I polish their laced clothes; then close the night waiting for wind chimes to knell,’ Magnificat.’ Scenes from younger days resound, while you, Mama, gift me with love and hate flickering through my confused mind: and sharpened bells ring in my ears; the gong of your voice banging across the hall, yet I still recall, mouth so tender, droning lullabies in the soft of window sills, ‘Magnificat’… How can I reconcile quietude and boom, when the little girl in me longs for your lithe timber within that special place, till holy statues listen to my wind chimes and finally understand this adoration. The Seeker's Contest: Your Absolute Best

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015


Details | Free verse |

A Mother's Envy and Pride

Lapis lazuli mines with wide blue eyes
bringing to mind precious stones and
caramel scones; innocent and wise -
Wondering, yet without surprise.

Staring down the universe, a challenge
in your look though you are young;
The earth made only nine revolutions 
since you came out to see the sun.

Unguarded and arched, your brows 
betray high wire tension; enough 
to light up a hundred moons and warm
plump cheeks to cherry bubble gum.

Be not impatient to grow; you smell
of open grasshopper meadows
and firefly lighted lakeshore walks.
You’re a mother’s envy and pride.

Red lips! Your passion for life exists.
Scarlet, lipstick would be a surfeit -
Today as then till many summer’s been,
your spirit will always be free as the mist.



After:  Portrait of Carol Nye  Rhoades (Robinson) (1915)


For Debbie Guzzi's Challenge: Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting No. 2
Kim Patrice Nunez
08 January 2016

Poem of the Week:  January 10-16, 2016

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

HIDDEN MEMORIES

I reach onto the bookshelf Carefully removing the photograph album from the top shelf We nestle together on the sofa I slowly turn over the pages Yellowing photographs that capture precious moments frozen in time Suddenly you become animated Hidden memories begin to return … We laugh as you recall stories from the past You lovingly stroke the faces of those now long gone Wishing they were there by your side for real Tears fill your green eyes as you reach out and gently squeeze my hand Nostalgia Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
11~25~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Around The Corner

around the corner...just! light brilliant...trees freshly brushed... a breeze meandering through the grass... a baby blue sky, an occasional cloud shaped and reshaped, ...a waterfall roars like a lion...its spray soft as a lamb. around the corner...Just a lovers breath against my neck...a lover's lies, an ego lift...a seat on that pedestal men dream of... a bold kiss...an us in a crowd...a lazy summer day outdoor chairs...an overhead fan, an open door around the corner...Just, rollerblades...a mountain bike, a jaunt in the park, a movie house...a why not...an invigorate, a swim in a freezing cold lake... a restaurant night...an evening walk, a club... dancing...karaoke...being a little wild... so many images paint my mind... bittersweet  ...my thoughts march one by one to want something so bad  to fear it at the same time Just around the corner  I get back my life, just... Around the corner  the loss of a life,  just around the corner... yes I need to do that now, yes I can wait longer yet... responsible for her... consumes the life I knew the actors, the stage, the lights, the set, the techs, a play, my life flow...directing stage. Just around the corner my life waits for me impatiently Just...! Around that same corner, death waits for her patiently Be careful what you wish for... Around the corner...just around the corner two tears wait for me one joyous...one mournful  Around the corner I want to be Around the corner wait for me  not yet, caring for my mother...still she lives, I can wait,  I can wait...
10~13~2014 Sponsor: Francine Roberts Contest Name: Around the Corner ...

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Mother is Dove

Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.

Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.

Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu 
For my heart.

I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.

I remember the wood from the wood 
The water from the water 
And manifold items from jungle alleys 
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.

I remember the constant match 
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with 
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.

I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls 
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?

Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.

Oh, mother loving woman 
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.

Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Be on Guard Against Poets

My sweet child
My daughter
Be on guard
Be on guard of the man
Who plays on your heartstrings…
Not with flirtatious smile
Nor with flexed muscles
Not with devouring eyes
Nor with intellectual prowess
Or clothes so fine

No, these you can resist
You can set boundaries
And be done
The threat, false alarms 
Their charm easily undone
Your defenses will withstand
The groping hand
The false charm
No, don't be alarmed

Oh, but child
My precious sweet one
Be on your guard
I beg you
I implore
Be on your guard
From the man named, “POET”
A man who wields words
Who crafts and designs them
Like a carpenter with wood...
Who makes them into jewels
With a jeweler’s touch...
Who makes them sweet delicacies
That simply melt in your mouth

He can shape and design his words
To fit your every need
He writes down your dreams
As though they were his own
His words an homage
To your beauty
Your form
The light in your eyes
The way you entice
Your captivating smile
Your dark tresses
Cherry lips
Or the curve of your hips

BE ON GUARD
Oh, dear one
Be on guard
For he means to take you
To sweep you away
In the tide of beautiful rhymes
The rise of fall of passion
Making your body move in time
He means to ensnare you
To capture your soul
He means to dominate 
To slowly undress
Intoxicate with his words
So you forget common sense
He wants you to eat from his hands
Choice morsels of love
While he whispers in your ear,
“There's more where that came from.”

My child
Be on guard
For words cannot pay
Your rent or expenses
Cannot save your day
Words won’t be there
When you cry in the night
They won’t be able
To turn on that light
Words won’t be your lover
With hands nice and slow
That touch you in places
Words can never go

My child, 
My darling
Listen to me
Stay away from those poets
They’ve got potency
They will woo and bewitch you
Throw fairy dust in your eyes
But at the end of the day
Only a few don’t tell lies

My child, my sweet
Get a man who will be
THERE IN PERSON
BODY and SOUL
With hands that caress
And with eyes that speak
Of your body in that dress
Spoken words make you weak
With lips that touch yours
That say you’re divine
That lick from your navel
That sweetest of wine
Stay away from those poets
Be on Guard
Save your life!
For a poet, my child
Is the greatest danger in life
The greatest beauty
The greatest dream
The greatest heartache
The greatest strife
Be on guard
BE ON GUARD
SAVE YOUR LIFE!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Like a Rock

I carry my mother 
like a rock in my pocket 

that I just can’t seem to throw away 

It serves me 
no purpose, 
it just weighs me down 

~~~
 
When I first found it, 
when I first picked it up 
and started carrying it with me, 

I thought it so beautiful – 
I could look at it for hours 

But, like my mother, 
it never looked back at me, 
never grew warm under my loving gaze 

For the longest, I was blind to that, 
Blind to anything but the beauty, 
blind to the cold, hard, 
beyond-remote nature of the rock,
of my mother,
my stone

~~~

I carry my mother,
a thought without weight

And she’s heavier

and she’s colder

than all the stones
there are

~~~
 
By the time I recognized her 
immutable, emotional unavailability, 
I had run out of joy,
felt depleted of hope –

But I could not,
for the life of me,
stop seeking a beauty, a warmth,
inside her heart

Could not stop
wishing
that one day this stone,
my mother,
deep inside my pocket,

Might just become
its own opposite –

Change from hard to fluid,
from cold to warm

But my rock, my hard burden,
will only turn to water

When my mother
stops being
a stone

Copyright © Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |

Motherland's Funeral

In the past, my country
cradled me in her bosom.
Today, I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.

I lost my country today:
gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts, overseas.

I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation—
impatient hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.

The world is on lithium.
My country was on lithium;
for her, vibrant colours turned 
into a monochromatic spectrum of grays.
In the end, her heart gave out
from having spent too many decades 
within a capitalistic cage.

She had an organ donor card—
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she was still alive.
Her organs were replaced 
with nationalistic flags,
and roaring stadiums.

Men from every standing,
groped Motherland's body.
Many men had laid with her. 
Oh, how they did.
At least some men displayed decency,
graced her with loving caresses;
they were few, between the rape 
that led to miscarriages, 
and live-births of degenerates 
via caesarean.

Lithium is slipped into my drink,
so I purge daily,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, laid out in the morgue;
a cardboard tag hangs from a big toe
like a foreclosure sign.

I will have to give her a proper burial 
within my heart,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.

Our Mother passed away,
yet her corpse-land remains behind.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges
and through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow, 
maintained by a system turned empty-hollow.

I lost my country today:
gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts, overseas.

As I held her in my arms,
I felt her slip away.




April 30th, 2012

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

A Child's Prayer

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares down the darkened hall.
A solitary line of pink light sneaks through a crack in the door.
Fighting tears hanging loosely in my eyes, I listen.
 
“Please tell daddy that I love him and miss him.”
It has been two months since he died. Long, hard months.
“Keep him safe.”
His smell still lingers on his clothes in the closet.
“and bless mommy to be happy…”
How can I be happy, or even smile, when all I want is to be numb?
The tears burn in my eyes, but I can’t cry, or I might never stop.
“so that she will play with me like she used to”
I can scarcely recall the last time I was able to focus; to give her all my attention.
“help her to forgive me,”
Oh sweet baby, it’s I who needs your forgiveness.
“help her to love me again, even though sometimes I’m bad”
Oh God, is that what she thinks!?
“and please help me to find dolly so she won’t be scared tonight”
Ok, focus…just breathe.
“in Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

Clutched tight to my chest, the doll smiles lifelessly
sending vacant stares into the room lit by a solitary pink lamp.
I sneak through the door, with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and enter with a promise, that all her prayers will get answered.

05/31/15

Submission for Prayertime Memories
Hosted by Isaiah Zerbst

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Mother

You were gone before my mind 
could grasp the brush which paints
faces on memory's canvas.
Vaguely, flashes of an open grave
on a sunny winter's day - 
bare feet on my fourth birthday - 
and pitiful looks from unfamiliar faces.

But I remember lonely childhood days
when I would visit your grave
bringing flowers picked from sandy fields -
And other times I would just come and cry
when it seemed I was the only child 
in the whole wide world without a mother.

Poverty sent you to an early grave
and was my childhood's constant shadow.
Of all your children I was the lonesome one,
always seeking solace in solitude,
always wandering in lonely paths,
an exile from embracing arms
and motherly healing kisses.

Through the years I tried to reconstruct you
through siblings' tales of your mothering,
Although heredity ensures that part of you
will live in me and will continue in my off-spring
I felt I needed more than scientific fact
to find meaning in my sense of being.

Death has stripped me of you
but death has no power over love.
I am a fruit of your love, and as long
 as I am able to approach someone in love,
I am connected to you. You are long gone.
I am still your son.

Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Ilaw

The light is muted,
glowing ever so faintly
and I cup my hands
to shelter it from
the harsh wind...

It flickers,
it wavers,
and my heart
does a triple dive
then beats back to normal
as I see that flame
fight, become steady,
and stand up against that wind.

I've seen this happen before,
but it always tries to shine forth
with a ferocity
that can only be fueled 
by love and faith...

A different gust,
another typhoon,
yet still it tries to beam...

This light amazes me 
with its tenacity.
I go through life with
only a mere spark of it
in my heart
But how proud I am
to have been borne from it,
to have it with me, 
burning in my soul.

This light is awe-inspiring...
with just a kiss from it
and warmth abounds,
never burning out,
rather, sharing that glow
to brighten lives.

I fear though, 
for the light is muted,
glowing ever so faintly
and I cup my hands
to shelter it from
the harsh wind...

Taking deep breaths,
we search for ways
to make that flame 
glow strong again,
burning as bright as before

A strike of a match
for a candle,
with its smoke weaving 
its way to heaven,
to say a prayer
for that light
to keep on glowing

The wick may be short,
the wax melting faster
than we would want it to...
But the light is still there,
and that gives me hope.






12272011238p322

Ilaw --pronounced 'ee-lao' as in 'how'; meaning "light"

"Ilaw ng tahanan" is a Filipino idiomatic expression
that refers to mothers; 
This phrase can translate to "light of the home"

Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

- Dear Mother Mary -


I hope your worries will end
and you'll suffer no wrath
Searching for the light
Even in the darkest times

No more tears or aching soul
Then you'll know not to worry
If only we could be happy forever
Be strong and brave keep on walking

Magic it seems
                     But
                          God sends His special angels








05.01.2016 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


- Mother Mary is not my mother, but a friend's mother -

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Please Love Yourself, Mommy

Please love yourself,
My daughter wrote
As we chatted away
About my upcoming trip
And yet my tears spilled over
As I bared my heart
To my 19 year old daughter
The joy of my life
The light of my eyes
The reason…..
The reason I go on with life
It’s for her
I try to survive
And push on
For she still needs me

And she wrote…..
You need to appreciate yourself more mami
I can't imagine my life without you
Just thinking about my life without you in it 
just makes me wanna break down
Please mama for me
Please love yourself
I dunno why it's so hard for you to see how incredible you are

She knew all my reasons
And yet she asked
Desperate to pull me out
To help me see the light
To remind me of who I was
Who I still am
And I soothed and comforted her
Knowing she’d worry
Her daddy away
And her Mama all alone
Locked in her room
Crying the night away
Yet she was the strong one
Mothering me
Giving me
A shoulder to cry on

And after all the tears those words of hers brought
I thanked her for loving me…..
And she wrote
I can't help it. You're amazing. You just need to give yourself a chance
Come here mami we'll have so much fun

And I smiled through my tears
Grateful for the blessing I have in her
And my heart decided
Once more
Once more
For a little while longer
To fight the good fight
To survive
To let the vivacious Mommy she knew
Come to life
The one all her friends loved
And said was “so cool”
That Mommy
That woman
I'd ask her to go on
And to try...
To try...
To love herself...

...For the love of a daughter

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Through the Door

Can you see them run to me – arms wide and laughing,
calling me, Mama: keeper of the stars, moon and hearts?
Can you see them kiss away my pain, healing every hurt
that’s ever marked me broken, dead or dying?

Can you see them hurt me? When they curse me, flay me; 
ground me with their unformed anger and bravado-uncertainty
until they fly behind doors, crying over what they’ve said – 
wishing they could take it back? 

O’, does that pride HURT! 
It stabs the chest and holds…holds…holds.
Can you see them behind doors and feel their wishful hearts burn? 
Can you feel them loving me through it all?
Love is not something easily hidden. Love like that breaks down doors – 
                                    sees through them. 
Can you see my tears; feel the weight of them on your cheeks? 
They are yours. 
Where you are (past the furthest/closest door) can you see me in them? 
Can you see the love I kept hidden in my dark and painful dungeon? 
You never knew what he did to me – but deep down, I blamed you anyway. 
There was only you left, you see; always you.
Can you see, I'm just like you?

If you can see me, you know. 
And if you can hear me crying through this God Damned pen (all those notes – 
all those written sorry’s slipped beneath doors - you must have known that
even at 37, I’d write you my heart in a note!)

You, Gran/Mother, are my one and only regret. 
That for 7 years, I treated you like a burden, a bother, and a barrier. 
I treated you like you should have treated me – an unintentional intruder;
like something taken, not given. 
But worse than that, I treated you like an acquaintance. 
Knowing how badly that must have hurt you, makes me want to be kicked in the face 
until I am unrecognizable; to the rest of the world, and myself. 

But life’s not like that, is it? No. You knew that, too. 

My baby boy has your nose, ears, and eyes. 
Do you think that if I whisper in his ear tonight while he sleeps (between you and me – 
at the doorway), you could hear me?
Tonight, I will whisper love in his perfect ear (pressed up against heaven’s door) -
maybe you will hear me say,

“Indy…Gran, I’m so sorry. If you can hear me, please give me a sign so I will know 
you’ve heard me. I want to see you smile again – just one more time…please…
let me know that somewhere, behind the door, you forgive me…”

And in the darkness of his bedroom; the moonlight covering his small face
like an angel’s kiss, the baby boy in her likeness, smiled.

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Unsung Hero - My Mom

Unsung Hero – My Mom


My Mom has always been unassuming, never flashy,
But her name deserves to be up in bright neon lights.
My magnificent Mom, Olegaria, is my hero!
In her eyes, no one is a zero,
And she is a blessing to all who crosses her path.
Successfully raising her own five children,
She also helped to raise all the stray children in her neighborhood.
Her guiding motto is “You can’t believe in God and
Not care about others - whether it is people, plants, or animals.”

An extraordinary human being, generous to a fault,
She would give her last slice of bread
To anyone who needed to be fed.
Nothing, including her time, is too good or too precious 
To share with family, friends, and even strangers.
Often she’d sacrifice her own happiness,
If it meant that others would be happy.

While Mamacita is very humble, forgiving, and non-judgmental,
She is nobody’s fool and can be a fierce lioness, 
Quick to defend her values and those she loves.
Caring mothers like her are especially rare today,
And should be declared national treasures.
Because of her powerful influence and the solid values she instilled,
I am a stronger, kinder, more conscientious, and better person.

My Mom helped me to see life in a more positive
And compassionate way – to treat people 
How I would like to be treated.
Even though she is not a regular church-goer,
She prays several times daily and her home is her altar.
I thank God every day for blessing me with this wonderful mother,
And for her continued presence in my life.
Mom, you will always be my hero!



Entered in “Unsung Hero Contest” sponsored by Carol Eastman (7-30-
2014).

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Since First I Saw You

Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

A String of Pearls

The amber light, through window glass
like time itself, shines much the same
Some things change, but some remain
Tonight's full moon still knows her name 

Her silken hair, her porcelain neck
a strand of pearls, a diamond clasp
I find them now, within my grasp
They bask within the timeless past

With envy now, the night is awed
Covetously, it fondles rows
of tiny orbs, which, one by one
are miracles, with moons, within

I hold the pearls within my palm
and think of old Glenn Miller songs
and mother dancing long ago
She wore them like another skin
back, long before my life began

 
A grain of sand, then pearls become
A part of her, ....    a part of me

So fragile, weak the thread is bare
as if the sun might gaze too long
a tarried glaze, the string would fray
and pearls would fall and roll away

Perhaps such things meant to be
Each miracle, has just a while
Glenn Miller songs have come and gone
I'll put away the pearls for now
so moon can own the night again



_2013___________________________________________
A 1st in PD's Contest: 101 In A Row ...Contest Finalized 7/23/16.... 
Resubmitted For Laura Loo's Contest: Any First Place Poem
To hear Glenn Miller's rendition of "String of Pearls" click on the following youtube site:... 
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vY4gUhFVNfE

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

CAN YOU HEAR ME MOTHER

She could hear us whisper when she wasn't even in the room
Knew we were up to mischief just by looking at our faces
Oh how I wish I could turn back the clock …

The dawn chorus is no longer music to her ears
With limited hearing and failing eyesight the TV remains silent 
Her only pleasure is listening to talking books on a machine for the blind
But the volume is so loud she remains isolated in her own room

Why aren't you wearing your hearing aid I ask? 
But she simply won’t wear it …
Won’t admit to the fact old age is creeping up on her

So now she lives in her own little world
A world of increasing darkness and silence
I dread the day she can no longer see or hear me
Oh how I wish I could turn back the clock …

05~05~15
Contest: A Mother’s Ears – Craig Cornish
~awarded 3rd place~

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Becoming Mother Nature

What if Mother Nature
 retired,
and I applied for her position?
How would I dare
to assume,
 her un-ending cycles;
 her secret duties?
Could I invoke such power,
 or must I simply become her?
Spin myself
 into a cocoon of natural faith.
Let the atoms of the cosmos
 transform my light into spirit.
 
Would I then emerge,
 complete with every force of mystery?
Awaken each day with pink mist,
 and burn each evening sky
 with crimson?
Command each leaf, each breath
and every symphony 
of living?
Would I wear her gowns
 of argent, lavender and aqua;
step lightly on mossy stones,
 and dance upon silvery meadows?
Grace the heavens
in cloud-white glinting wings
and in
 the depths of darkest night
 bear stars, filled
with the promise
 of every beginning?
 
Suzanne Delaney


Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

YOU'RE MY INSPIRATION - DEDICATED TO MY AMAZING MUM

How do I begin to describe you Such an incredible person Yet even now you doubt your abilities You lost your own mum when you were eight - you never ever got over it You worked all your life, started off by working in a bank for almost 20 years Then when you had children you ran a village shop from home But also helped run the smallholding where we lived You even had an evening job to bring in extra income Then you began working in a care home and that had a big impact on you At 50 you changed direction in life and studied and trained to be a nurse No mean fete with two children to bring up When you retired you continued to work in a care home Then you undertook charity work every week still continuing well into your eighties In fact you were on your way to work at the charity shop when you fell You were found lying in the street … Two bleeds on your brain and over three months in hospital How you pulled through I will never know Yet you battled on and are still with us still Now you have short-term memory issues and are going blind Fate struck a cruel blow when dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer He passed away in February Your lifelong partner for nearly sixty years Your world turned upside down and now you live in a care home We are selling the family home - gosh I find it tough emotionally I know we have lost dad but I feel like I am losing you too You are helping me clear out things from the house Items you have known and loved for many years Sadly we can’t keep everything It must be so so difficult for you, yet you never complain I just want you to know how much I love you How much you inspire me We only have one mum and I am so lucky I have you still Written for a previous contest but too late to be submitted Placed in Judy Konos' Contest - tell us about your mom 18th September 2015

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Brother Of The Quill

Brother of the Quill
Join me in a dance
For mother sings nightly
And father sleeps within a trance
Deerskin feet 
they'll never hear our steps
Through hemlock and the fields of wheat
All night long we will dance
Moon Mother lights our way
And our ancestors shine as bright stars
We will run as the wolves
And sing from our hearts
Brother of the Quill
Join me in a prance
We will shoot stars with our arrows
And wish for another dance
Deerskin tents
They'll never hear the swish
Of when we sneak back in
And fall asleep before Father wakes again

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

A Mother' Ears

A mother’s ears  - fine tuned
will pick up on her infant whimpering
          in the middle of the night.

Whether the baby’s cries are soft 
or even if the mother herself is deep in restful sleep
her child’s distress will prick her ears
rousing her from even her sweetest dreams.

A mother’s arms will cradle her small son,
wrapping him in a loving warmth 
that will abide with him to his dying day.

Her cooing voice will ease his unnamed fears;
her gentle eyes will instill in his developing mind
an image of devotion, which reinforced through time,
will compel him to seek a mate 
who will  look at him one day 
in that same adoring way

A mother’s ears will hear at last
her child breathing deeply.
Then the mother’s heart will swell with quiet delight
knowing she has comforted her son.






Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

For my mom

Though many songs are written of angels
I must add to the empire 
This small hymn to a woman, a champion of life 
Nameless here, but named in all things good and pure
I'll stand beside her work, her artistry astounds the stars 
And all light that is given is humbled in her presence 
Every worry is smoothed away, all tears absolved 
God, let me take her sadness into me and carry it for her
Until I am old, and then I'll have my chance to see her once more 
I am not a religious man, but she brings the divine to me  
And cradles me forever in her selfless, adoring arms 
I love you mother, I love you
I will always love you

Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

A Mother's Ears

A Mother’s Ears A mother’s ears become magic the minute she hears her newborn cry— nature turns up the volume like at no other time. The slightest cry, whimper, sneeze, cough, hiccup, sounds like a gong that vibrates her into action. Like a mama penguin coming in from the hunt at sea she knows the sound of her little one calling among hundreds— and she rushes to her baby. Baby’s special sound, mama’s special ears, they develop in the time of motherhood— a one-on-one relationship between sound and love. A mother is a communication system receiving, decoding, interpreting, sending, reacting— like an intricate multi-faceted machine— with a huge, beating heart of love, a mind full of devotion, nurturing and commitment— and magnificent ears. May 2, 2015 Contest: Parenthood Sponsor: Silent One

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Its Raining...

                          Its Raining…

God’s Cleansing Tool
Cloud-Concerto… How Cool !
Plop-Plop Plopping into Pothole Pools
On the Grass, Pavements and On My Own-Sweet- Fools…

who, don’t have Sense enough, to get out of the Rain…
… I think I’ll go Join Them… Again

                               Amen

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Still Called Mother

My body is a graveyard.
I buried you inside this defective womb.
I am less than a woman.
My flesh a fertile tomb.
Tiny ghost.
I will never hold you.

My baby is crying.
My baby is crying and no one can hear their haunting wail but me.
Night after night.
Hush now.
Shhh, 
Momma loves you.
Inviting this emotional decay,
I am damaged.

My heart is in the ground with you, dear one. 
This body betrayed me.
The space between these hips, 
Now an empty cradle.
That gentle heartbeat,
Faltered,
Ceased.

I am always with you.
Child,
Deceased.
My soul gently rocks you,
As you sleep.
When the fragile heart stops beating,
Are you still called mother?

Copyright © Nadia Steel | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

FAMILY SECRETS

Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone This was the first time I’d laid eyes on your final resting place In front of me stood a grey granite slab covered in emerald moss Green ivy clung to the stone and snaked round the nearby yew tree It was evident your grave had not been visited for many many years In fact, until ten days ago I didn’t know you existed … A family secret kept hidden from me by my elderly ‘mother’ It wasn’t until her recent death I discovered the real truth At the will reading the lawyer presented me with an envelope Spidery handwriting revealed that my real mother died in childbirth I discovered that I’d been adopted; my real name was Sara James Seeing my original birth certificate for the first time was a huge shock Now I know the reason I felt that I never belonged With my raven hair and pale skin I looked very different from my sister Beth I’d been told I looked like my great aunt and I’d never queried this Now I stand in front of the plot where my real mother is buried I spend an hour weeding, tidying and cleaning the gravestone Rivers of tears run down my face when I finally reveal the inscription Carved in the decaying stone I read Ellen James - died 17th April 1953 aged 33 Fell asleep with her tiny angel Susan James - died 17th April 1953 born sleeping Family secrets kept hidden in the graveyard Sobbing bitter tears I kneel down and leave a red rose For my mother and my twin sister that until today I never knew existed Fictional write for Camouflage me a Poem Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings Theme 1 chosen - Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone 08~04~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

The Reunion

In the beginning it is just a lovely cloud Collin comes across her in the coffee house One of his friends calls his attention Look, your mom is here, let’s go elsewhere A descent of birds pecking at his brain The cloud he keeps looking at for quite a while The face and the figure look like his He goes to the toilet to look into the mirror The semblance he sees is a puzzling wonder The birds dance and sing in tumultuous chorus His friend confounded when he is told Collin does not know who his mother is He had been adopted when he was just two The lady too looks at them off and on When a bridge comes up none can say The next few hours he passes in a daze Is the quest for four years going to succeed Is the cloud preordained for the sudden rain Or it is just a fortuitous resemblance But then isn’t it an exactly mirror image Returning home Collin scrutinizes himself again In the mirror he finds the same chiseled face The same desirous dreamy eyes, head full of hair He recites poems and talks to himself Same grace radiates from the daffodils The plant with the flowers hangs in the air The charm and the fragrance are irresistible He craves to rush forward and hug it tight And flood the flower with crimson kisses The scented air stays elusive nonetheless Collin says everything to his adopted parents They are very glad and cooperate to get to the truth There would be no problem in living all together Collin laughs and says very forcefully The twenty two years old son is no more an introvert When the magnet works in the very stem cells The eventual fusion is inevitable obviously She takes him to her apartment She lives alone her husband dead No shadow of children nowhere in the rooms Thousand wasps biting inside his head The pain is traumatic for the hidden truth Light and dark interchange day after day Poems of love keep churning the two hearts Drama outside and a flood within The day DNA test confirms the gene The two intermingle to a river serene ______________________________________________________________ August 8, 2016: For the Contest: Long Lost Family Sponsored by Silent One

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016