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Mother Business Poems | Mother Poems About Business

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

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Details | Rhyme |

You Were The Best Mother,

Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2008

Details | Quatrain |


You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |


I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Concrete |


A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.

Copyright © Miche Ulman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Triolet |

Pleasures by the Seashore

Pleasures await you by the seashore,
And in the coming months
Invest in your family; today and tomorrow,
Pleasures await you by the seashore.
Your first choice will be the wisest to follow;
Do not put all your stocks in the market.
Pleasures await you by the seashore
And in the coming months...

(1 Year Anniversary Dinner at Sydney's Buffet)

Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2009

Details | Diminished Hexaverse |

The Mother Of All Planets


                                           the             universe                    has
                                         physical                                      matter
                                        concentric           sphers                      with
                                       many         planets                                 stars
                                       and                   galaxies                             for
                                      o   b    s     e   r    v  a      t    i      o                 n
                                      text    ual               v     i      e                         w
                                      to             see                   big                      bang
                                      but                    t  o                   me            o u   r
                                      mother                                    e a r t                 h
                                      c     o      u     n    t   s      the      m    o      s        t

                                       f      o            r          i      t '    s           w h  a    t

                                        m                   a                   n                        y  
                                         d            o                     c       a       l           l

Though this is a shape poem
it is written in diminished hexaverse lol

Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |

The Demon Called Auto Correct

There’s a demon that comes with most cell phones.
He can be difficult to detect.
He thinks that he can read your mind.
His name is auto correct.

When you’re sending a text on your phone
he thinks he’s your spokesman, your mouth,
but be careful the things that he injects.
Conversations can quickly go south.

He likes to mess with my elderly mother.
He makes her say things she never intended.
But I am aware of his wiles
so I never have been offended.

I like to text her a Bible verse each day
It is an encouragement to her.
One day, she wanted to thank me for it.
Her reply though, that demon did skewer.

It probably could have been much, much worse.
I laughed so hard until I cried tears.
Instead of thanking me for my Bible verse
she thanked me for my beers!

My hubby, he shared a story with me
of something a business associate said
that I’m sure caused mortification
a visage fifty shades of red.

“Great, perfect!” was the text that was meant to be shared
but that demon snuck in to subvert
the stunned client on the other end
on his screen, saw the words, “Great, pervert!”

I’m sure you get the picture,
so I’ll bring this tale to an end.
The moral of this story
is to look before you hit “send”.


Inspired by a conversation I had with my husband this morning.

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Sweet Children, Sleep

To the Newtown Children

A poet cries with broken heart

Look thine hearts be washen clean with death,
God knows how hastily can be
By an unfitting goodly young man
Become just another evil’s killer.
Take thou no mean of life
That so tenderly and small
Arranged now along that cold room
Where a hundred of parents
Like you and I look on poor children that thou think:
One day they shall be a doctor or a thinker like us.
To understand really why the hungry death
Has to do for their final journey in front of this sickness?

O, children! American children! My children!
I warn thee in all my heart and soul
That could not happen so earlier on life
And where thou cast the peace and saint in the kindness of grace
Take care of them from danger, thou take for a leaf
And makes my heart bleeding every one like us become angry
How in this heavenly nation this massive fate could occur?

Hold me fast in thine embrace God,
Where my despair cannot be silenced,
Let you and me and everyone else to knee and cross
Our fingers against our chest and pray for them,
Give them, Lord, thy blessing give,
Pray for them and mother as well,
And I shall finish this poem with trembled
Fingers and tears cascading over this bloody
Sheet as an awaken wind has just blown it from me.

Copyright © George Zamalea | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse |

Biting my Tongue Again

My tongue
has no more blood; 
no tissue to slide through my teeth.

I have bitten my tongue
so long
my message deflates beneath.

©  2011  ~JSLambert Esquire

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Calender But Not Dated

Calender But Undated

Haha... In Australia, calender means fixed dates...
In Bolehland, it can mean to fix at a later date...

In case you are wondering what that  was about...
Wonder no more, in a  calender  actual dates abound...

Funny how one can call it a calender and yet differs so much...
Penang Open is in the calender, but nobody knows much...

Shssh! Nobody knows actually when, it being an official secret...
Here in Bolehland, a calender is a program planned with no dates at all...

Hohoho...a Malaysian squash calender is available for print...
But what's this? Important dates are not yet chosen for print...

Hahaha in Bolehland, there are missing gaps with dates unseen..
Unlike in Australia, all dates are identified and well planned ...

So of what use is a calender in Bolehland, dates are left undone...
In Australia, one can plan and travel on account all dates are done...

?????? A little note... 
......when a annual calender of events have only the event 
but not the dates, how does one dare call it a calender of events for the year???

Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Sincerely Yours,

Dear friend ,

The world means nothing.
Its set in flames.
Even worse we roam with cold hearts trying to look the part,
in this guilded age.

This is something I wish not to be a part of.
I no longer want to be another soul endlessly making
contact with sole and pavement.
I'm striving for abatement. 

For meaning I've always looked at dictionaries.
For significance we've always looked at actions.
So please do take another look and see what this letter is for.

Our education is supposed to be priceless, yet we can't afford it.
Our outlook on life is supposed to be uplifting , yet our vision is always distorted.
Our struggle is supposed to be significant , than why is it our stories won't be recorded?

Does this not trouble you my friend?
We complain about being second rate citizens yet there are those who don't live
but attempt to survive in their homes that are assigned in third world countries since before birth.

Where is the justice if the hearts are starting to turn into just ice?
Wheres the justice if a benevolent man was robbed of their life?
Where's the justice in this non-sense?
I can't see it . All I see is us bracing for a cruel consequence.

Pardon me if I trouble you with the questions you can't answer.

But i've outweighed the pros and the cons of this situation.
I no longer wish to to be just another number in this logorithm of lies. 
I no longer wish to be a variable with no value of his own.
I wish to become the variable that comprehends the absolute value of sincerity.

Real love is that which shows no fear.
Unfortunately I am a coward.
I no longer can love a world that is platinum plated and wishes not to remember
the warmth of a child's smile.

Even the stars wish not to roam on the skies of the falsely lit nights.
Even the moon moans because of how far from her we've drifted.
Even the willos weep when we no longer wish to see them stand and instead
choose them to stand on.

I've outweighed the courage and the fear.
But what I found frightened me further.
What weighed us down the most was indifference.

With that discovery I knew what I had to do.
I must leave and find somewhere where gravity is no longer so heavy.

I know I can't outweigh death for it's a burden that falls on the shoulders of everyone.
I'm truly sorry that i'm a selfish coward 
For I have chosen the coward's end.

I wish you goodluck my friend,

Sincerely yours,

The shadow of men

Copyright © Raumelis Ramos | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

Have and the have nots

grabbing at straws the luck of the draw
some live big some live raw
a few like gods on hills of gold
every things fine just do what were told

A man on the corner needs something to eat
money walks by thinks dirty deadbeat
separated so the poor don't offend
at least when your down no need to pretend

late at night at the castle on the hill
a drunken success pops another pill
doesn't talk to his kids doesn't have real friends
his wife loves spending and the hottest new trends

a mother and her children prepare for the meal
what little there is seems so surreal
Everyday she struggles to provide
all she has is love and great strength inside

the driver takes him to the company he owns
he makes money by working others to there bones
always watching for a worker whose down
to remind them hes got the best jobs in town

eight sharp she takes the bus into work
she works for sol ittle just to please some rich jerk
the boss points out maybe its time for some new clothes
hes pays so little cares nothing for what she owes

the girls need braces but theres no way to pay
she smiles real big and says well get em someday
but shes knows she probably wont ever afford
she can barely make rent on her own accord

when he enters his mansion he feels quite alone
a beautiful house but know sign of a home
he decides it be better if workers lost there medical coverage
the company will save and even the overage

two people so very different one thinks hes what most people want to aspire to
the other wonders how long she can hold two sick days she'd be out on the street
the first one is selfish drinks every night avoids his family and lies a lot to
the second is down but will never give up and her children love her she is so sweet

these two people we see everyday I'm willing to bet you may look away
she just doesn't know how to save irresponsible i hear people say
when you see the man in his top notch suit and perfect smile
i hear people say what an outstanding man i like to talk for a while

When i see the man in his thespian role i feel a ting of pity in the heart in the soul
all the money doesn't help him see the person he his the one he could be
when i see the women struggle all day i wonder why we aren't all this way
her strength and courage virtues indeed a path of love is always richer then  one of greed 

Copyright © brian stewart | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


Tell your children in the field not to turn back to the plow

In ardent meadows a cool chill ravaged in asunder
When I was young you sat beside me with care
Showing much affection on what it was I should wear
Through a pillaged turn in chemical regard

I didn't mean to hurt anyone
When all my friends would make fun of me
It was only to you I would run

Through, untimely noise out in the street
A section of safety from which I was to greet
You showed us the very essence of love
Created then nestled by the hands of God up above

Although for a time no shelter to cry

A solemn sigh would always pass you by

Through the variation in a dream caught in time
Love is the essence of your existence
A shelter lies dormant on it's beckoning call
Sought through it's pillage in the tail end of Spring
Living in shivers through bargain basement bling
Mother shines brightly amidst its beckoning swing
In thoughtful aura of truth along with adorable laugh
With snap shot memories of the past
Having so much fun with the hope it will last
What a mother means to me?
Amidst shing sea to sea
A variety of decorated flowers tossed in delicate apparel
Sought through broken promise amidst the uncommonl laughter
She always held her head up high
Amidst the outside rampant radiating cry


Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012