Poetry Mother Poems

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Details | Light Poetry |
My eyes,
you traced the beauty of nature.
The starry sky and inky ocean,
smile of winter in the heavenly garden,
dancing of waterfall on the lap of hill
and kissing of butterfly with lips of lily.
You painted the alluring nature
in the canvas of my memory.
It refreshes my soul
and revives my heart.
My eyes,
you are lovely, you are smart.

My eyes,
You traced my childhood
with your experienced hand.
Sacrifice of my mother
and hardship of my dad.
Depth of their love
and length of their sorrow,
thickness of their sympathy
and width of their care.
My eyes,
You are cute, you are fair.

My eyes,
you age out books stepping with time.
My career holds what I need.
You created hopes
and enhanced expectations.
You make my avenue successful and vivid.
My dreams slept on rose petal bed.
I know, a good book is equal to 100 friends,
but a good friend is a complete library.
My eyes,
you are my friend, you are my diary.

My eyes,
you traced a queen
in a marriage party.
Now, she is my darling
she is my sweety.
I never forget that wonderful  night.
When you traced her sensation
and her jumping heart,
her tender lips
and her undressed beauty.
I was clean bold
with extreme delight.
My eyes,
you are spicy, you are naughty.

My eyes,
you are very clever.
You can speak more than tongue.
I know, you can't be wrong.
My anger is apple red,
my love is pearl white
and my pleasure is crystal bright.
When I am confused
you fly kingfisher flight.
My eyes,
you are my teacher, you are my guide.
--------------+++++++++++++-------------------

Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016




Details | Light Poetry |
I Heard Mother
(to tune of "I Saw Mother Kissing Santa Clause")

I heard Mother scolding Santa's elf
As I prowled the house on Christmas Eve.
He'd hid in St. Nick's sleigh
And then sneaked out to play
After having waited for his boss to fly away.
Mother caught him gobbling all our snacks
After he tore open every gift.
Oh, when she glared down at his face,
He went scrambling from our place
Screaming, "Santa, stop the sleigh-
I need a lift!"


first post at Soup: for the First Poem Contest of  Kim Rodrigues
 I chose this parody written many years ago in the 1980's because it was Christmas time when I joined in 2009, and I thought this poem was humorous. Soup has been of value to me for inspiring me with themes. Since about half my poems posted at Soup were written before I joined, I don't think I've necessarily improved but I've gotten faster! (I hope I've improved)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |

l. Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite ambrosia: she would lift her anklets in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..” Evenings touched her candle hands; hands that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights; her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan; “night and day you are the one…” And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants. ll. From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me; her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights with each veil of her almond eyes that enter into my irises: a serene sight too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word. Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles and music walked me through reality’s maze. And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study, coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet, she stayed like a moth with charm flushed in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing . lll. And only Mom could melt my temper when my raging soul paused to wonder at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head… and now, she hovers around me. I become her eyes, chanting, “night and day, you are the one” ; never balking at my surreal conquests. She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights without question; with much love dripping from her graceful movement, straying all through these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…” Best Sad Poem Ever Contest of Laura Loo Resubmitted 8/28/2016

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014




Details | Free verse |
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother 
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her 
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths 
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job 
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Touch Me Touch Me I Wanna Feel Your Body!

Touch me touch me I desire your gentle caress Feel me, feel me As I move deep within Kiss me kiss me On the belly, all over me In the dark, in the dark I desire your sweet soothing words Your heart beats along with my mine My love is held by angel’s string So this is the night This is the time I wanna feel your body I wanna feel your hands Wrapped around me As I enter this world From the darkness to light Here I am Momma momma Touch me hold me Caress me and hold your breast I am the creation of your loves delight! Thank you Momma For creating another soul!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
Mother Teresa
She is the mother of every poor people, injured people, ordinary people...

Always we remember the great news
'Mother Teresa will get the Nobel Peace Prize.'
It was one of the best moment in our life...

She lived in our city Kolkata (Calcutta) .
She ate our Bengali foods.
She loved us so much...

One day, I was twelve years old
I met  her at Mother House along with my parents.
I looked at her heavenly eyes.
I touched her sacred feet and hands.
I heard her divine speeches.
I love her innocent smile.

I told her only the sentences, 
'You are the mother of the world, 
Mother of my parents.
So you are my grandmother.'

My father hesitated. My mother was silent.

Mother Teresa said to me with smile, 
'GOD BLESS YOU MY SON'

Today my eyes are full of tears
Mother, I miss you. 
I love you so much....


SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA



(Mother Teresa founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Roman Catholic religious congregation, which in 2012 consisted of over 4,500 sisters and is active in 133 countries. They run hospices and homes for people with HIV/AIDS, leprosy and tuberculosis; soup kitchens; dispensaries and mobile clinics; children's and family counselling programmes; orphanages; and schools. Members of the institute must adhere to the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, and the fourth vow, to give "wholehearted free service to the poorest of the poor".

Mother Teresa was the recipient of numerous honours including the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2003, she was beatified as "Blessed Teresa of Calcutta". A second miracle credited to her intercession is required before she can be recognised as a saint by the Catholic Church.)

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
MY LIFETIME FRIEND: MY MOTHER

Throughout childhood and adolescent days,
She was my staunchest supporter,
And through teen years and young adulthood
I was glad to be her daughter.
As a mother-in-law and grandma,    
She’s there whenever/wherever she’s needed,
And if this was to be her lot in life,
She’s definitely succeeded.
But whatever she is to other folks;
A friend, sister or other,
She is to me, and will always be
MY LIFETIME FRIEND: MY MOTHER!

BY 
WENDY LEE KLENETSKY: PROUD DAUGHTER OF CECILE SEIGAL

Copyright © wendy lee klenetsky | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quintain (English) |
If he were my Dad, he would be the best.
A distinguished Chef that taught me to cook.
An ever loving Heart, beats in his chest.
His spare time , he writes a Poetry book.
When its done; as a Poetry Family; We should all take a look.
.
I have a distinct advantage, in the Culinary Arts.
“Dad” was a self made Chef : Loved by Culinary : ALL.
You have an distinct advantage, with your Ever Loving Hearts.
We climb the stairs of Poetry; to the Poet Laureate’s Hall.
We spend half of Eternity, reading Poems upon the wall.

He's a teacher, a Chef, a poet; a husband that Loves his Wife.
Allthough she now lives in Heaven, as she has for forty years.
His heart has found someone new; that has given him new life.
Barbara Jean, whom I call Mom; has dried up past forlorn tears. 
He is a man deeply in love with everyone he knows, he loves all his peers.

This is a Quintain I wrote for Francine Roberts Contest "  English Quintain Contest
Dedicated to "Dad  and Mom" Harry D. Johnson aka Harry, HG, Liege and Barbara Jean
Gorlick aka BG, Mom I wrote this Dec. 3 I added the third stanza today Dec. 14

Copyright © Kenny A Fledgling Poet | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |
A heart that cries more than me 
in my pain. 
Whose congenial and benign teachings 
make me sane. 
A warm touch that dispels from me 
the gales of worry. 
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm 
protected by her under furry. 
A helping hand that always hold me 
whenever I'm about to lose. 
& my first teacher who makes me to 
distinguish between donts' and dos'. 
A voice and nothing more, an Angel 
who is entirely mine just after my birth. 
And she is none other but 'My Mother', 
The God on Earth. 
  
Although to define her in words is 
beyond my skill. 
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in 
my life, none can fill. 
She is the one who needs not a single 
word of me to understand. 
In my devastation, she is always there 
to provide effusively her hand. 
In the weariness of my life, with her, 
I may lose to be in link. 
But she ever remembers me whenever I 
breathe or my eyes blink. 
I can say that in search of heaven, 
I needn't to go anywhere. 
I would like to put my head in my 
mother's lap, as its only there.. 

Copyright © Hina Saxena | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
     When i grow old i will be glad
of the five braw weans im blessed to have
Gordon my oldest wise for his years
Kelly shes bolder but inside theres tears
Ashly my nightmare but i love her to bits
Sean has a laugh that has me in fits
Natasha the baby the wee cuty pie
I hope when she's older she gets a good guy
they are all so good looking no one can deny
and their all the apple of this mothers eye


Copyright © Kate Mcnaughton | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
The sky is not the same.
When I don't see her eyes and her smile it starts to rain.

Please God tell me your Angel is okay.
I don't know what to do if she goes astray. 

Please guide your Angel back to me.
I miss the sweet words of her melody.

Show me she has not departed from us,
and will promise not to fuss.

Give me a sign or a hint of her existence.
Let me know that she is in no need for assistance.

If you do I shall promise never again to be distant.

Copyright © Mariela Ruiz | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
The purple on his chin was tellin'
there was just no use to lie.
That pesky, good for nothin' goat
had eaten Mother's pie.
She  had set it on the porch 
jist to cool it down a bit,
and don't you know that goat had come
and calmly eaten it.

My little brother looked as if
he was inclined to cry.
They'd warned him things
would have to change
or Billy Goat would die.
I got a rag to help him scrub
that bright dye off his whisker.
He could appeal to Mom's good side,
but didn't want to risk her.

That goat had climbed on everythin'
from our new car to house.
He'd eaten nightshirts off the line.
No wonder Mom would grouse.
I'll kill that goat", our mother said
a dozen time or so.
Of course she didn't mean it but
our brother didn't know.

Now little brother'd come along
when most of us were growed.
He never seem to learn the ways 
the rest of us all knowed.
He didn't learn to work around
our mama's laws and such.
He had no wiles to pertect him.
His goat was sure in dutch.

Bein' so much younger must be tough
and not too easy sailin'.
His best friend was this pesky goat
and that was fast a failin'.
He guessed the only way to go
was take his goat and run.
He didn't think to take a coat
and weinies and a bun.

The rest of us when we run off,
we knowed enough to take
some warm clothes and some
sandwitches 'n even choclit cake.
We were all scared when brother
didn't turn up for a meal
and we could see the worry our
mama began to feel.

So Daddy got his good horse Dan
and took the dogs along,
and said he'd just go scout him out;
be sure nothin' was wrong.
It seemed a good long time before
we saw Dad ridin' back
with somethin' on his saddle.
It looked much like a sack.

But it was our little brother
and he was sound asleep.
Dad found him in the orchard
with apples in a heap.
His cunnin' goat had climbed up
in the ole apple tree
and flung down the ripe apples,
as nimble as can be.

So brother wasn' hungry
but he was mighty weary.
Our mother grabbed him in her arms
and all of us were teary.
That wily goat was smart enough
to prove himself a winner.
He'd saved our brother and himself
from becoming our goat dinner.


By: Joyce Johnson

Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
Pull your blanket up my child
I know you are so very tired
Let momma tuck you in to dream
Of running free in meadows green

Copyright © Patricia L Graham | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
Her face is invaded by networked wrinkles
For she gave to the world all her valued best,
Her input to the current world has tired her
And she looks up to the grave for final rest.

She chose for herself a deprived lifestyle
So as to give to the young something good,
Cars and houses and clothes and fine jewelry –
All were junk if her children had decent food.

The jingling of up-to-the-minute gadgets
Does not amaze this brave and daring seed
That persisted through the lows of a mean life
To birth and nurture the wits that ages feed.

The ticking of time has forsaken her
And failing strength betrays her fast
Yet the world salutes her undying feats
As she unbowed breathes her last.

Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
A real man with morals and principles would never abuse a lady
how can a man beat a woman and drive her to nothing but fear
gone are the days when a man treats a woman the way he should
not saying that there aren't men like that but honestly they are rare

How can a man kiss a woman and then tell her that she is beautiful 
yet when they disagree he is quick to slap her across the face
all my life I was taught that I should always have respect for a woman
so if I should abuse one to my family I would be the biggest disgrace

Any man that would hit a woman to me is nothing more than a coward
have you ever considered that she is somebody's aunt or their mother 
I would never condone a man physically abusing his wife or girlfriend
I don't care who that man is it could be my best friend or even my brother

How would you feel if a man turns around and beats your only sister
I can imagine the threatening remarks or even the action you would take
you swear on your life that you would defend any female in your family 
yet you hurt another man's family you are not a real man you are a fake

I could never beat or abuse the woman that I say I love and care about 
the only time I would put my hands all over her is during our lovemaking
I was thought from a tender age that a woman's strength is her mouth 
so I would save my energy for the makeup which is always breathtaking

women don't be fooled if a man hits you doesn't means that he cares 
he tells you how soft your skin is yet he beats you all over your body 
he then comes and apologizes and tells you how much he loves you 
and later the process replays like beating you is his biggest hobby

a woman's skin is so soft and her touch is so delicate and tender 
and yet a man sees it fit to hit her this is something I can't understand 
I am glad I can stand and say that beating a woman is ethically wrong
I could never hit a woman and this makes me proud to call myself a man

so if you are a man that beats your woman honestly you sick my stomach
how could you say you love her yet you destroy her beautiful features 
I think men like you should be condemned to hell on judgment day
I'm asking the real men to join the fight against all women beaters

By: Marlon Malcolm

Copyright © Marlon Malcolm | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |
We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
I am the sum of the ages
beginning before my mother,
before my grandmother,
and before my grandmother's mother.

I am the product of their matriarchal choices,
the quotient of their actions, reflections, and self-images.
I am the difference of their generations.

And I bequeath the equation of this inheritance
to the matrices of my living legacies.

Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010

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 | Light Poetry |
     Yanny Widjanarko - Baby Ken Austen



    Nothing is a greater gift than to be a mother 
    Growing in the womb - the first 9 months of his life 
    A warm and cozy place right under a happy heart 
    Associates a bond with tenderness and love 
    An indescribable love so pure and full of honesty 
    Finally the day came - mother got stomach ache 
    A little angel came to the world - a shapely baby boy 
    Ken Austen became his beautiful name 
    Your mom spreads over your carpet - kiss you on your cheek 
    Outside your window I see the moon watching over you 
    Good wishes I send you in my heart 
    When you sleep ....





    - Dedicate this poem to: Yanny Widjanarko - And Baby Ken Austen 
    - Congratulations and welcome to the world



20.03.2014
A-L Andresen : )

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Priceless pearl
my hidden diamond
love's sweet jewel

Heaven sent
Angelic countenance
Beauty so pure

Lovely daughter
your character delights
my devotion forever

Heartbeat on screen
My unbelief ceased
the moment
You
first squeezed my finger





Copyright © Christina Holmes | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
                                                  I'm Eve 
                                               Lead by God  
                       My faith in Him has always guided me in my life.
                       I find refuge in the, poems I write, books I read, 
                                 Composing descriptive paintings,
                             Wrapped myself around my computer 
                              Desiring to acquire more knowledge,
                                        It’s everything I need.
                                    I am a coward of the thunder
                            My Heart is as warm as the summer sun,
                    My husband insists I am too honest and too forgiving
                          I embrace the flow of life with love, dance, 
                             and listening to many genres of music
         I love to save family mementos of the past that brings back memories
                            I married my soul mate thirty five years ago
                                 He was freshly retired, Navy Chief 
                 I have three wonderful sons accomplished in their own field
             Two daughters in-laws that should have been my own daughters
           And five grandchildren that I adore,  one of them stationed in Germany
                          Friends are very special and also my family
                My Yorkie Peanut is a very clingy stubborn little handful
              I am a Christian Catholic and taught fifth and sixth grade prep,
 I instructed my students with lots of visuals because that is how I learn and retain,
               I also taught in the public schools with special needs children
                               from kindergarten to twelfth grade
                 with stern rules, but compassionate to all for fifteen years
                      My husband and I are retired and up there in age
   I love to walk hand in hand with my husband through the wood of the tall pine
                              and look at the pond that lies beyond
                  with the wild creature’s nosiness to see but stay away
                        I'm tired of getting old and tired of being tired,
                                  But I would do it all over again
                   I firmly believe I have to see it before I believe it and
                   You learn from your experience if it is right or wrong

©Eve Roper 4/7/2015
revise

 

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
            My Son Moon and Star ~

        Approaching the celebration of his Birth 
                cherishing the gift I received 
           within weeks of conception I knew
            something amazing was in Creation ~

            the Stars held a party
            sending me with one of their own  
    Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky   
       It was magic  It was destiny taking its flight.  

           In love with an October full moon 
               drawing and painting I liked 
             thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
                caught in a loss of time 

          Hours going by as choosing my color  
           a wittness to three falling stars 
             A clear night sky sparkle's
           A once Famous Star was sent 
            inspiring the tiny child inside ~ 

           Never a doubt in my mind at all     
       child bearing was worth any pain received
      yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
             one to cherish and hold
          My Son was born the following August ~

    working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year  
         as the set of Leverage for 3 years .

              Has done a Indie movie here  
             In Paris it was seen and honored
             coming soon filmed in Portland ~
                 "The House of Last Things "

        awaiting the credits , you will see
                        
    1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant 
   
                 My Young Lion Mans dream ~
        A proud mom I watch every show and the credits 

        as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
              My Son &  Moon and Star  
               A name you will all know ~

            Happy Birthday to my creative Son
             you will exist in my heart forever~
                        and thereafter               
                             Mom

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
When you miss a child,
Of your very own,
That is your flesh and blood,
You begin to wonder,
Where did you go wrong,
In your own life,
Instead of looking,
At the beautiful life,
You created,
This you must remember,
So many of the difficult times,
Cause of the times you did share together,
For your children will remember more,
Than you really want to give them credit for,
And they will always remember you,
As their loving parent,
For loving them so much,
More than you will ever know,
And you will never forget them,
Just as you hope,
You will never be forgotten,
From their lives,
Forever more,
As well.

Copyright © John Hembree | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
I don't know why 
I am writing 
I don't know what 
will come out of it
 I don't know how 
this has happened
I feel like it's me
   my good luck

Mother nature begged
to dictate my now
during that long walk 
towards my new path
the sun burned 
my negativity 
asked me to start having 
    a healthy attitude 
towards life and death

Mother nature urged me
    to remember
life was good to you
you are not the owner here
you are just passing 
       through
  
She transmitted in her own way
telling me we all live with 
     uncertainties
    once in a while
there are reasons to life
just add a meaning to it
make it real enjoyable 
visible full of life
     and love

She projected her light under
 extraordinary circumstances
where are you when you're thinking
a lifetime has gone by in a glimpse
          remember
 a person can't live two lives 
tonight pick up an option
everything you will do has to be
       worth living for

It's your decision 
your responsibility
having faith without hope
    you will not live 
        in peace

This is real what's next in your life
    whatever it might be 
  you would always want 
      that next minute
 make it count don't see weakness 
           everywhere
             I will try
               Terry

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |
	(My ode to Earthquake is an irregular ode. The ode is written in
memory of an earthquake that took place in Gujarat State (Kutch Region) 
of India in the year 2000 on the Republic Day of India on 26th January.)

I

What a day you chose, Grandma Mine!
To quake, to move, to shiver, to shake
Thereby to ravage, to savage, to shatter,
The celebrations of Mother India Republic Day.
A female snake eating her own children!
What bad karma those school children had done?
What configurations of the planets took place
In the natal charts of those thousand killed?

II

Million years ago you jolted and rocked,
Opening up the Atlantic & creating Indian Ocean,
Delinking India from Africa and Sri Lanka.
Those oceans are widening & the Pacific shrinking.
Will North America & Asia drift into each other?
The twelve plates* mate and hate each other,
Caribbean to Cocos & Indian to Eurasian.
Your wanton ways to be taken as blessing in disguise?
Your natural acts as great levelers? Or
HE made the world to fit best to create & destroy.

III

On the scene I met a man, a mattress maker by trade
Living with parents and two toddlers.
With debris under the rickety shelter,
The toddlers lay motionless covered with flies.
The third did not see the light of the day,
Journey made from mother’s womb
To that of the earth,
Amalgamating from dust to dust,
As his wife eight months pregnant
Died when the house collapsed.

Standing now on the roadside,
People throwing food at him from trucks,
The mattress maker without a mattress!
Brooding over the rigmaroles of the politicians,
Remembering armed gangs with choppers,
Cutting the fingers of the dead for a gold ring.

Feeling the tremors and shocks of the quake,
Cries, cracks, quacks fresh in his mind still.


Dr. Ram Mehta
========================================
 Second place winner IN
Contest:In Honor of Constance "Forms of Poetry 101


Today India is celebrating its 64th Independence DAY

* There are twelve plates of our Mother Earth.

Contest:In Honor of Constance "Forms of Poetry 101
ODE
A lengthy lyric poem typically of a serious or meditative nature 
and having an elevated style and formal stanza structure. 
A classic ode is structured in three parts: the strophe, the antistrophe, 
and the epode. Different forms such as the homostrophic ode 
and the irregular ode also exist.

.



Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |
  All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens.  A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind. 

   I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.

Copyright © amy epiphany tunks | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Ma...
Aj bhi teri ankho ka wo sapna hu meh ma... 
Jisse pura karte karte tu apna jivan dan de bathi...
   Meh tera wo ankhsh hu ma... jisske liye dua mangte mangte ... tu apne liye dua krna bhul bathi...
Meh teri wo parchai hu jisse dekhte dekhte tu khud ka chera bhul bathi....
   Meh teri wo awaj hu ...jisse sudharte sudharte tu apni awaj de bathi....
   Meh wo pet hu ma jisse khana dete aksar tu khud kahna bhul jati...
   Meh teri wo sas hu ma ki jiske liye sashe lete lete tu khud ke liye jina bhul bathi....
 Meh teri wo utsah hu ma... ki jiski wajah seh tu kam krte krte.. thakna bhul bathi..........
Pure karungi tere sapne...roshan hoga wo anksh tera...dekhegi tu wo parchai tu apni ab meri ankho seh..gayegi tu surila sawr apna mere kantho seh.... mith jayegi teri bhuk mere khilane seh...  sanse dekar apni jiwit karungi zindagi teri meh...jiyegi tu ab apne liye... uthsahit hoke dekhegi khud ki jalai hui ish roshni ko ek din.... jo bhi hu sab tere liye.....
                            Written by 
                      INDRANI

Copyright © Indrani Bhattacharjee | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
The tone in her voice told me I had gone to far,
the tear down her cheek another scar 
inflicted upon an already bruised loving heart.

The look in her eyes cause me to shudder,
the clench of her jaw arouses a twitch of her lip,
to quell and dissipate words she would love to spew,
but will not,
instead, scream into deep recesses of her brain.

The stoop of her shoulders, hands balled into fists drilled into her waist
with legs spread taunt, 
all positive signs to find an escape route.

As I turn and crawl away I hear her say,
if you were not a baby, there would be the devil to pay.

There was not anything I could say,
at nine months,
language was scheduled for another day,
so I just went about my way,
next time I see mom, she will give me a hug, everything again okay.

Until the next time.

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

Details | Light Poetry |
Mother Nature’s Plan

Climate changes are everywhere
Hawaii is one place getting its share
Volcanoes, snow, hurricanes too
Mother Nature is showing her force through and through.

Madam Pele is showing us whose boss
I just hope it's not a terrible loss
Spewing her lava all around
Making her path all over the ground

Then there's snow on Mauna Kea's top
Temperatures up their sure did drop
Snow in Hawaii are you sure?
Well if you go on top you'll be saying brrrr 

And then there's Ana, who's that you say
Well, the soon to be hurricane is headed our way
She hasn't decided quiet what to do
Too bad we can't tell her just to shoo.

Whatever happens to our beautiful state?
We can handle whatever is put on our plate
Mother Nature has a plan, why you ask
Well, it's simple you see we're up to the task.

So once again, keep your things handy
Have your batteries, food and maybe some candy.
Stay safe don't be foolish you know what to do
Have your blankets and clothes and don't forget shoes.

Aloha is what it's all about
Maybe look in on your neighbors, give them a shout.
We can all do this, you know we can
After all you see it's in Mother Nature’s plan.

By….barbara poor

Copyright © Barbara Poor | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
We sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
she sings back as an angel from beyond and drops a tear 
as we sleep so we won't wake and weep

On earth she gave us birth and strength to shine in this universe
and to remember family comes first for even in death
we have rebirth and a life of worth

So, we sing a song to our Mother's soul who has passed and gone
we will remain strong and will carry on for this beautiful angel
from beyond who has bygone for our mom. 

T Reams 2/10/2015   to my sweet sister Jenny in memory of our mother Barbara

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015