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Age Mom Poems | Age Poems About Mom

These Age Mom poems are examples of Age poems about Mom. These are the best examples of Age Mom poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her? 
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |

a mothers love

on this special day
I doest say
that thy mother is of graceful sort
it hath been said she is devine
and I do holdeth this to be true
now dearest mother may I be so bold
to tell you the sun still shinest on one so old
as true as this be
you still grasp your faith 
like the roots of a tree
tis said you are wise
and this I have found true
the eye doeth grow deceived when it is drawn upon you 
as your thoughts become known 
only then your age is shown

Copyright © brandy wassam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic |

Captcha WHA6

When I was only five
Heard mommy always's say
Angel  keep being naughty and you won't make it to

Entry for Adam Hapworth's
Captcha Acrostic Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2013

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.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio |

Outside looking In

Im going to tell you a story about a girl.
She was smart, and ready to take on the world.
Had a hard childhood with her mother always ill,
but her father worked hard and struggled to pay the bills.
My name is Pam and the poem your about to read,
Is a interesting poem, all about me.
I started to feel depression and pain,
at the age of 15 I was snorting cocaine.
I got pregnant at a young age and wanted to explore,
So I walked right out of my families door.
Time went on and I was still not around,
My mom grew sicker and dad wearing a frown.
Not much longer until I experienced this change,
and tragic horrible hurt and feeling of pain.
I walked in that room ,and climbed in the bed
I layed down beside him, and layed down my head.
With my hear I could hear his heartbeat.
The next thing I new we were burying him six feet deep.
At the funeral they said she was in a better place,
but it just wasnt fair to see that look on her face.
My mom that is she died with my dad,
She may have been breathing but always so sad
Two years later she decided to give up,
her faith was gone and hope for luck up.
Thats when I really started to struggle,
barely getting by and forgetting that i was mother.
She seen me drift into a dark place,
I started loosing weight in my stomach and my face.
Before I new it I was always getting high,
Weeks became months, and time flew right by
Its to bad that I chose this new path I was on ,
Because on August 11Th I got a call saying my mother was gone.
Like a replay I walked into that room,
to see her lying there as stiff as a broom.
I layed down beside her and rubbed my fingers
through her hair , but the pain I was feeling I just couldn't bare.
You would think after loosing my mom and my dad,
Anything else wouldnt seem near as bad
Within four years I had nothing left,
My child was taken for my foolish regrets.
Just me and my addiction no more tears to cry,
so many different ways that I could get high.
I would like to introduce this powerful drug,
It bring nothing but bad when I was searching for love.
The name is crystal, Crystal Meth
The one thing in the world, I wish I had never met...

Copyright © Pam Siddall | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

The Happy Dress

It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative 
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.

So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened.  “Ta Da!  Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked?  Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.

You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.

It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”

“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.

So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.

She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open.  “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”


“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Midnight Lullaby

I wrapped all my tears, to see you smile.
you are the best, always by my side.
I tell you my feelings will get you crying,
you must think I’m out of my mind.

You don’t know, what I know,
all the angels let me go.

We were born to teethe and die,
you will grow to be so fine.
Fall in love, feel your softer side,
Remember me when life is kind.

When you go, let me know,
don’t walk away like the world and go.

Life is rough and the world unkind,
fight them down and you will be fine.
The truth of live is a brutal sight,
make no mistakes, you can learn from mine.

You have a strong heart, you are unique
I treasure times when you smile at me.

Live the life, I could not find,
be there for me, when I say goodbye.

Copyright © Karan Patade | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

Three Among Us Named Sue

Bows in the pigtails, bows on the dress
swinging her arms, loving all the sass
bouncing and beautiful, rounding and rue
we flow into the coming days, of kissing Sue.

Sue is immortal, holding her babes,
loving her man, cooking her meals,
wanting for the beyond, entering her days
slowing and slowing until she sits more than swings.

And there you find her bowed back all alone,
waiting for a call, wanting everyone back home,
kisses so remote, we wonder how they disappear
until we find warmth with the one who calls us home.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epitaph |

The Woman I Never Knew

She looked like an angel
Sitting there in her bed
Everybody loved her
She had a great sense of humor
They say I am like her
I am very honored.
She was my dear mother.

She was a very sick lady.
She had tuberculosis and stomach cancer
She left me and this old world at the age of forty-five
I was age five
Mom I love you and I miss you.

Copyright © Susan Schebe | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballade |

Wherever she is tell her

Wherever she is tell her

Tell her she is a woman so strong
Her words are always never wrong
Tell her this I said
Tell her every word I obeyed.

Tell that good woman
That I am now a man
Her wisdom flows in me
Opens my eyes to see
Tell her wherever she is
Tell her I said this.

She raised me up
Breast fed me on her lap
To correct me pinched my ear
She wiped my every tear
Tell her I am now a man
Tell that good woman.

Mother of four
Her I will live for
Her care
I will share
Her wisdom I will pass on
Till I too pass on
Tell her.

Tell her happy I am
with her words in my ear drum
Her wisdom in my mind
Her love in my heart so kind
Tell mother her son
will shine bright like the sun
Tell that good woman
Her son is a man.

Copyright © Griffins Ndhine | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

A teen age girl complains her mom

You always run after me,
In playful and angry mood;
You scold loudly, 
Take stick in hand to bash;
You play with me,
As if you play with doll;
Hug me hard,
Soothes my heart;
Take me in your lap,
Embrace gently, 
Gives me warmth;
Care my dress,
Care my look,
And braid my hair;
Unending gossip,
your chat does not end;
You sing a song for me,
lyrics are so sweet,
My ears too rapt,
Don't feel being bored;
You are always after my life;
Don't do this, don't do that, 
don't talk like this,
Don't sit there,
Don't go there,
Don't stay late,
Worry appears in your face;
Wait near the window,
Lips move complaining me;
You feel relieved when,
Watch my glimpse;
'O' Mama, my Mama,
You are always after my life;

© sadashivan nair?

Copyright © sadashivan nair | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum |

A picture of a sub-division-w

My sub-division is called the place of old people                     
There’re no young people in their formative age                 
With no kids but only single mom or dad in ample              
Known as the place of aged people of suffrage.                     

There’re no young people in their formative age           
To regenerate returning to their homes in picture                        
Known as the place of aged people of suffrage                                 
With no ambitions of the present or the future.                    

To regenerate returning to their homes in picture                        
No grown-ups with fervent hope and ambition                 
With no ambitions of the present or the future                    
But it’s place the with self-obsessed bohemian.                    

No grown-ups with fervent hope and ambition                   
Bothering no more for diapers no happy mother                        
But it is the place with self-obsessed bohemian.                   
To take children around to play no happy father.                      

Bothering no more for diapers no happy mother                        
With no kids but only single mom or dad ample                  
To take children around to play no happy father.                      
My sub-division is called a place of old people.  

Seventh place winner
Dr. Ram Mehta

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |

My Mom

My mom I always there
To fill my every want and need 
I couldn't ask for a better mom,
To help me succeed
She doesn't like to see me hurt,
'Cause it makes her really sad
She's very protective, but I guess it comes with being a mom
My mom has that motherly touch,
That puts me to sleep every day and night
My mom isn't the Old fashion mother, 'cause she's really upbeat
I have fun with her all the time
'Cause shes the best mother EVER.
She says I'm a sprouting image of her and I know that I am
But that's a good thing since I want to be just like her

Copyright © Bobbi Settles | Year Posted 2014

Details | Blank verse |

Mommy You're Gone Now

when I as 7 and would hold mommy's hand
everywhere I went, I
thought nothing bad could ever happen.
mommy's here, you're safe.
Mommy, you're gone now and 
I'm not safe anymore 
Where are you 
you never told me that you were leaving 
and that my own brother was capable of hurting me.
what am I going to do when dad comes home drunk 
and gets violent again? 
Mommy you're gone now
I'm not safe anymore

Copyright © Bobbie Jo Price | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |

Pucka Parker Rest in Peace

It all started five decades ago, when her gift of imagination began to grow. 
She was the youngest of five and could not wait for her to arrive.
Velvety soft skin so fair, along with lots of curly blonde hair;
Eyes deep blue like the night welkin, with an innocent smile and double chin;
Tiny hands that grip and probe wrapped in a pink blanket robe.
Cyndi, a sweet southern name but a lonely child she soon became. 

Cyndi went outside to play in the sand, soon came back holding an imagined hand.
At two years old she made a brand new friend, to her Pucka Parker was not pretend.
With siblings overpowering her in age, she often took over center stage.
She was the apple of mom and dad’s eye and learned quickly how to slide by. 
Their likeness was uncanny; the mischief was not on her fanny.
Pucka Parker did it, she would cry, as elephant tears poured from her eye.

Pucka Parker was forever to blame and soon inherited the family name.
We took her shopping even to church leaving enough space for her to perch.
We took her in the car on vacation and somehow left her at the gas station.
Cyndi was so upset that she was gone that we had to stop at, what is now, an Exxon.
Pucka Parker was everywhere, to us older ones it seemed so unfair.
Pucka Parker was ruining our life forever; Cyndi’s ties to her must sever.

Mom asked the doctor, what to do, give her some time for her age to accrue.
Now at four, Pucka was on a roll, she ate every cookie from the storing bowl.
She stashed dad’s keys in her drawer; so he couldn’t take mom to the store.
She found lost animals of every sort, said they were lonely, needed her support.
One hot day, at the age of five, she came crying, Pucka was no longer alive.
Tragic end, Pucka was hit by a car, went to heaven; was a new star.

We laid Pucka carefully in a box, on a nice bed of our holey old socks.
We had a short funeral on her behalf, wrote words on a paper and pinned it to a staff.
Here lies beloved Pucka Parker, she was the best, it said on her marker.
It didn’t take long for Cyndi to recoup, befriended a girl to sit on the porch stoop.
It is funny how children conform; make their life cozy, secure, and warm.
To this day after forty-eight years, we recall Pucka who transformed Cyndi’s tears. 

Copyright © 2010  By Caryl S. Muzzey

Fourth Place Winner ~ "Story Time” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
Oct. 12, 2010

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2010

Details | Kimo |


                   she is the most beautiful wild flower
                       time ran fast fades the glamour
                               living in twilight zone.

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |


Everyone was laughing louder,
biting their lips and rolling their eyes
like actors in an Attic comedy;
mother was sitting, with her head down
groaning, mumbling 
and pleading not guilty. 

A visitor was sitting, biting his nails
and frowning down at innocent ants.  
“She has put Urea into the tea-cup,”
my sister announced with her head high;
all the pandits nodded their heads
assuring of my mother’s folly.
That was only a decade ago. 

Five years went by
without any major incident
when suddenly,
she repeated her folly 
- a narrow escape –
by squeezing a common krait 
in the kitchen sink,
assuming it to be a dried stick. 
Everyone was sure of her stupidity.

My eye-sight is now too weakened,
and while reading, even with
my goggle-like eye glasses,
I’ve begun to miss even jumbos.
Then I see my wife look at me 
wearing that Tiresias’ sinister mockery, 
assuring of my own folly
and all those Pandits,
who mock at human misery.

Long live the queen!
She’s now in her late eighties.

Copyright © Newton Ranaweera | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

An Innocent Child

A young homeless child looking for a home but finds none.
On the first day of school the mother's not around to comfort me when I'm down-right scared.
An innocent child of seventeen 
I find myself locked up in a placement.
An innocent child now afraid of time
Will I forget my goals and dreams?
I go to Maryhurst and meet people who care.
I learn about peer pressure and much more.
Now comes the time to break thru the.....

Copyright © Bobbi Settles | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Momma i,
Understand now,
Now that i'm grown.
Now that i aged.

Momma i,
What you had planned, 
For us to grow into a ,
great man or woman.
Living my life,
Going threw it all,
Making mistakes,
But always learning from them all.

Momma i,
Understand now,
Now that i'm grown.
You taught me how,
to be a better person.
Now it's time,
To teach my little one.Hoping she does right.
Like you did for me.
I give thanks,
For you Momma every night.

Momma i love you!
Now take a bow.
You'er a beautiful person,
Inside and out.

Copyright © gloria perez-barkaszi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |

old chair

There is beauty in this beacon of the sun.
she lingers along the wind,
through the window.
Casting no shadow upon my bed.

Old crooked door and noisy hinges.
Still cold,morning dew till noon.
Drops a few on the front stone
below the cottonwood.

Lovely chair painted white. 
A long time ago.
Chipped and rusted. 
Blue underneath where it was once new. 

I sat for a lifetime in that chair the day you died
I cried on the flowers that you would plant
every spring.
I felt lost and angry,I'm sorry that I ripped  them up.
I`ll plant them again next chance I get.
They will always be there.
Like the slamming of the screen door.
He smiles at me on the way

to the bus stop.
Runs his hands across the tall grass.
I hoped the bitterness would pass.
But it just isn't the same here without you.

He gets out of bed around ten sees me there in the old chair.
We sit and talk about you.
I just want to write this for you.
Beautiful sunlight. 

We still love you. 

Copyright © edward cousins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

the once-hip mom

hormones started it all
taking her into puberty
whether she liked it or not
making her the object of the male gaze
at an early age &
she found the affection of many,
she partied hardy,
squeezing herself into the tightest clothing,
snorting the best *****she could find
with 100 proof veins,
pumping loud music into her throbbing 
staying up 24/7---
raging against the dying of the light
when it all fell back on itself,
she got cleaned up
she got a career &
when age started to slow it all down,
she settled on a bloke who
had actual feelings for her &
the storybook was opened---
soon a new life was on the way &
with an already happy household established
the two decided to have it,
fumbling their way into parenthood
as parents will do when they first start out,
still trying to balance some sort of 
life that they once had
while devoting every second to the rearing of
the new daughter---
after many sacrifices &
many sleepless nights,
the years passed & mom saw her wrinkles
begin to race neck n’ neck
with the arrival of lush brown hair now turning
her daughter, however, began to bloom,
just as she had when she hit such an age &
the sneaking out to see boys,
the first time caught drinking,
the squeezing into tight clothes &
the complete breakdown of what once seemed to be a
healthy mother-daughter relationship,
found its way into the once-hip mom’s home---
now mother starts to look at her daughter with jealousy &
she gets not one iota of support from her own mother 
who finds it hilarious that finally the boomerang made its way 
around & 
now the shoe is on the other foot,
where the frustration & responsibility has been handed down
to the daughter who once caused so much to her own mother,
now suffering at the whim of
her own teenager.

Copyright © andrew delapruch | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Mom, in the Electronic Age

She's ninety-one, she doesn't get
electronic things and such.
She can mess up any device
with just a look or touch.

Yes, things change as years go by
but Mom's not one of those.
We steer her clear of newish things.
That's just the way it goes.

We gave up trying to log her on
to the computer at my house.
A battle of wills, it did ensue
between Mom and the computer mouse.

It was a war she could not win.
Frustration was the name of the day.
The cell phone was our next attempt,
which also failed in a very big way.

Remote control buttons are covered up.
Only the bare minimum can be seen
because when she starts pushing them all
her language becomes obscene.

So, its a basic T.V. and phone for her.
She really doesn't care too much.
She's ninety-one and doesn't get
electronic things and such.


Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

A Visit to Mom

Atypically,  she was alone
and silent,
wig askew,
all the muzak shut away
behind her half-closed door.
I knew that she had also  drawn
the blinds within her mind,
to soften the impetuosity
of joy.

She struggled
to pull back the thoughts
that like a child
would run away too soon--
reminding me again
that all the "simple things"
she ever thought or said
elude her;
then the love that she had stored within
emerged to let me hear her say,
"I am so thankful 
for my family."

Her 97th year, a time
for facing new goodbyes,
new deaths in her to come,
that we will string upon the fraying tie
that flesh alone will bind.
Then in parting our embrace extended
past my equanimity;  I stepped inside
the elevator, closed the door,
and thus once parted from her
struggled unsuccsessfully
to don my streetwise smile.

Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |

Sorry Ma, The World's A Little Harder Than I Thought

He had enough dreams to fill the universe, and still have some left over 
He was impressed by nothing less than perfection, so he was then over-

Eager to embark on his new life, 
Just turned 18, said goodbye to his parents and then decided to do right 

And BE himself, 'cause though many people cared for him 
He NEEDS himself 

And he wants to be free 
So then he walked out of the door to find work out of the streets 

But when he opened up his wallet, and simply saw a black hole 
He decided nothing is free, and started to walk back home 

When he made it back home, he apologized to mom, told her;
"Sorry ma, the world's a little harder than I thought."


Copyright © OP Threat aka God | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |

What About Mom

I know I'm getting old
I know it's true
I can hear my children arguing about mom
and what to do

You take her, no not me
I have children, I don't need three
She's  your mother too, why can't she stay and be with you?
She's always wanting me to sit and stay,
 as if we don't have better things to do
She getting so old and not able to do
All the things she use to
Driving here and there
Cooking, the cleaning she can not bear
More work 
More time
Less for me, and mine

We could put her in a home, she'll understand it's our 
Time to be alone
Who's going to tell her, maybe it should be you,
You're the oldest but she always favors you
God I wish it didnt have to be me

I'll tell her tomorrow before we leave that
 mom, we just can't  agree
It's okay my children I will do, I will go home very soon

O God take me now, I wish not to listen to the shame
that my children weep of the burden of my keep
I only wish for them to have peace

So close my eyes and I shall sleep
 wake upon the heavenly stars there God waits for me

I hope they will tell my grandchildren of my star above 
And tell them of Nana's greatest love
 watching over them from this star
Loving and caring through thick and thin until the end 
my love

Copyright © Terese marcoe | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

My Blocks

Crashing to the ground
Along with all my joy
The blocks fell to the earth
Scattering all around
We build them again 
Tower reaching to the sky
And once again
It fell
The vicious cycle 
Of building and falling
As my mother
Knocked over my blocks

Copyright © Zechariah Cogburn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haibun |

Coming of Age

Awakened by cops, I am frightened and confused. My parents arrested, I was removed. From house to house, I am placed with mannequins who “love” in parentheses. “Mommy, when will you come?” Her face plastered everywhere, yet she is nowhere. I was so young, then one day I turn eighteen. Return to thick, robust roots. 

Knock on my old door,
Greeted by stranger blankly, 
“How can I help you?”

My caseworker forgot to put life skills in my suitcase. A life sized adult body with a child inside on stilts. That night was the first one sleeping on hard surfaces. Aged out, and graduated from child protective services to homeless and forgotten on somebody's lunch break. They eat a cardboard club sandwich. 

Middle aged mother 
Inquiring about her child
“Sorry Ma’am, that files closed”.

 I wrote this poem as a haibun, trying to keep it emotionless and rather concrete, inserting haiku that I hope adds new dimension to the prose. I am trying to hit home without actually hitting anything!  This is my first haibun. 

Copyright © Jacquline Musgrave | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Year 2: ADHD

Year two
A time for changing
And most of all
Experienced in the art
Of forming words and phrases
Many were not prepared
For her verbal skill
Many sounds
No clue how to use them
Just an eager mind
And a mouth
Words as if on a map
Guiding her to more
Unknown and unexplored territory
But an unknown cause as well
Parents unaware
Of how the gears in her head worked
But someone did

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
ADHD, the crazy brain disorder
Unable to sit and stay
Like a disobedient dog
Resisting a leash
I don’t believe her, her mother said
That is not true, her father claimed
So they took her out of the school
In disbelief and disarray
But the woman was correct
The girl was wild
At least now they had a reason
Chit chat
Squiggle and squirm
Staying still was illegal
In her rambunctious mind
Nonetheless, the girl was theirs
Their little baby
Their prize
And they couldn’t love her
Any more

Copyright © Belle Greenberg | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |


I'm thinking more often these days 
Of childhood memories
Days spent at home with a wonderful mom
Ones that I will always cherish and keep

Days unafraid with you here to save
This child at the first sign of trouble
Never to condemn with the ever loving hands
That could only be held by a mother

There to play games the best in playmates
From hide and seek to peek-a-boo
Training me right to be the man you now find
Nothing for me that you wouldn't do

Now in a home you and your thoughts alone
Unclear of the secrets they keep
As I bend near, whisper into your ear
Mom do you remember me

There's an ocean of thoughts that we float on
A sea as wide as it's deep
Where age takes its toll on the weariest of souls
Along with lifes memories

From early age on to now fully grown
Those memories are what I cling to
In my heart they are kept where no words need be said
But if they did it would be I love you

My Mom is still living (Thank you Jesus) but as she ages (Or is it me) 
my mind goes back to my wonderful childhood and the times we spent. 
The ending is fiction but you never know what tomorrow will bring...

Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2017