Writing Mother Poems

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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 | Bio |
I'm the ultimate
bookworm
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of reading
of writing
of using thought
for something
a  little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
in books
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
for you
each book adds
another flavor
to your being
another star
to your mind's sky
they are things
of beauty
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two

so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when 
I could afford
to accumulate
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver

I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
never....
for any reason under the sun

I have diaries from the civil war
faded slightly
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
a librarian
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck 
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
Mother Nature’s Verse

Minute after minute
Hour after hour
The poet sits
Thinking
Dreaming
Watching the blank paper before them
They wonder what their reality means
Is it sad and depressing?
Could there be a ray of light in the darkness?
Where are the angels and demons who fill their thoughts?
Are they needed or even wanted on such a day?
The window gives hope and images that become poems
Mother Nature’s unwritten verses
There for a single poet to see
Does the flower on the hill have feelings?
What could it be thinking as it sways in the breeze?
No one knows and no one cares
The poet will watch
They will think and dream
They will see what others can’t
And that flower will be the one ray of light
The one to open the poet’s mind
And the poem will be written
Mother Nature’s verse will be sung
All because of a window and a flower

Copyright © R. e. taylor | Year Posted 2011




Details | Bio |
It was February 2002 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF No Way Out), that Jessica McCord and her then-husband, Jeff, killed Alan Bates and his new wife, Terra. Before their deaths, Alan "A.B." was in a custody battle against his ex-wife to have determined who'll have gotten full custody of their two daughters (born in 1990 and '92). The custody hearing might have taken place in November 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, WWF Rebellion, and WWF Survivor Series), but not until December 2001 (WWF Raw, WWF SmackDown!, and WWF Vengeance), when the lady had spent that time in jail for skipping custody hearings more than twice. It seems that Jessica had disapproved of both of her daughters having the late Terra for their step-mother. the only two things that describes Jessica McCord are selfish and a coward. She selfishly pulled both of her daughters out of their respective schools, she hid them away so that her late ex-husband couldn't gain full access to them, and/or whatever. So, the fact that Jessica McCord had used her own daughters as a pair of pawns as if she's been playing a game of chess had made the late Mr. Bates, the attorneys, and Birmingham Police officers of Birmingham, Alabama, very sick. The lady, Jessica, was afraid that the judge would grant Alan and his new wife, Terra, full custody of the girls, so she and Jeff killed them; thereby dumping both of their bodies in a burned-down car outside Atlanta, Georgia (aka Hotlanta, aka Dirty South, and aka ATL). Jessica McCord may have tried to label her late ex-husband as a bad guy, but no one bought it, not even her in-laws, the prosecutors, and the judge. She knew that she and her husband were going to get caught; they knew it. And where is Jessica McCord as of February 2003 (WWE Raw, WWE SmackDown!, and WWE No Way Out/World Wrestling Entertainment's first 'No Way Out' pay-per-view event, ever)? She's in prison, along with her then-loser husband, Jeff McCord, serving a life sentence in prison with no possibility of parole. Ms. McCord should've gotten the death penalty, but that's the way the law works. And as far as the Bates family, the entire community of Birmingham, and the two daughters are concerned, prison is exactly where they belong. Well, it looks like the ghosts of Alan and Terra Bates will be haunting the two-then McCords for life. Let's hope that the Bates sisters don't suffer the same fate their father and step-mother did. And if I see the Bates sisters in person, there's just no telling.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Narrative |
The eraser belonged to me; it was saved by my mother and returned along with many other 
childhood items when I became middle aged. I was curious as to why she would save a 
stubby old eraser from the primary grades, so she reminded me of its’ one and only use. My 
faded memory of that time suddenly became crystal clear, as my mother recounted for me a 
watershed episode from my formative years. 

I had, as they say these days “acted out in school once again,” this time by writing 
unspeakable words in a textbook. Without any hesitation or forethought, I chose as my 
repository the teachers’ edition of our English composition book. Quite frankly, at the time, I 
thought they were literary gems worthy of publication. That’s why I knowingly inscribed them 
there for all to see. Upon further review by more knowledgeable minds, it was determined 
corrective guidance and a phone call home was in order.
 
I was to spend several hours after school that day sweating in contemplative silence as I 
erased the teachers’ edition and many other similarly defaced books. It was during this time 
of reflection that I ground that eraser down to the stub as it remains today. The last visible 
vestiges of my bad expositions disappeared forever that hot afternoon, along with more than 
half of the eraser.

Mother then reminded me of what she overheard the Superintendent tell me, as she sat 
mortally ashamed and waiting for hours in the hallway outside that sweltering classroom. I 
can still visualize her ample adult size, trying in vain to get comfortable, in a sticky one 
armed desk made for a 5th grader.

“ John, I want you to try and remember this:
WHAT YOU SAY to others might last with them until THEY DIE.
But regretful WORDS YOU WRITE, the residue of which, will last long after YOU DIE. 
So you keep what’s left of this eraser and I hope you never need to use it again.”


*For the "Rub it out" contest, i still have the eraser.

Copyright © John Trusty | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |
I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
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 | Free verse |
For nine months
With love and pain
With joy and suffering
In her womb she carried me
A mother she is 
And a woman of virtue.

When there was no one, she was the only one
Even left alone, she never leaves me alone
Indeed, she’s a mother 
And a woman of virtue.

When toddling, she cared
And still directs when I could run
She is a mother of the child and the adult
In her thoughts are all, even the descendants to come
Many names will I call her; “A mother of all”
And a Woman of Virtue.

Copyright © Francis Twumasi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Epic |
Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dramatic Verse |

I wake up with another tear for I have again, relived the nightmare will it ever leave me with any way to see when will I again be able to see my family the past is forgiven so why is it still living my heart was so broken but soon after it was frozen let it lie and the past die for I have a life to live with but the past is still being relived how do I stop this past of torture so I can find my new future

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
I sat there staring at the screen
Thinking about lunch
Feeling very lean

I sat there still
Letters taunting me
Staring out the window sill

All I got was Nature staring back
Mocking me completely
I grew so slack

Haiku’s flashed through my head
So short and sweet
Frustrated, I went out to my shed

But narrative poetry that I must
 Haiku’s so less sticky
My heads about to bust

Haiku’s I pressed on
The boss said otherwise
So much I think I might go eat a flan

Who’s this boss?
Master of school and more
Salad she did toss

She who is the bomb
Yet stern as a stone
She is known as my wonderful mom

What shall I ever do
Going through such misery
I shall go watch Winnie the pooh

Going to the big screen
I watched away
But I must return to my previous scene

Back at the small screen I ate a skittle 
Procrastinating much
Thinking little


Finally arriving at the last
I think about Haiku’s
But I actually had a blast

In the yard I see our gnome
Standing there alone
Telling me to end my narrative poem

Copyright © Ben Batman | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic |
Sensationally super, and Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel!




Comments:   During my twenty plus years of military service I was always called 
Spence, J.   That's just the way the government does business.  This acrostic is 
about Spence, J.   It's crafted on a combination of alliteration, assonance and 
consonance sounding words. Eggnog at Christmas is my favorite. Having a 
Sunday afternoon sundae at the ice cream parlor is oh so tasty. Wow!  I just love 
it!!!  Anyway, here are some comments on writing an acrostic. The basic acrostic 
poem is formed by writing a word vertically down the page, which may also be 
the topic of the poem.  It’s recommended to use one letter per line, and the 
beginning letters should be all capital ones.  Each line of the poem should begin 
with the letter on that line and the line should pertain to the word or title being 
used.  Some may recommend using one word or a phrase which does not have 
to rhyme; however, one may move beyond the basic acrostic form and use a 
complete thought with a rhyming sequence.  It’s also recommended to use 
adjectives and phrases that describe the word or subject of the acrostic. Finally, 
one may take the quantum leap and write a double acrostic where the first and 
last letters of each line are the same.

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
Sitting on a branch of a white sapote tree
Shivering, crying and alone 
Away from home, on the highest branch that can hold me

Hiding......no more beatings mommy 
Scared, it's pitch black and sounds of insects rule the night
Hiding......I've become the teen that runs away
With any chance, searching for that ray
Scared, I don't want to die, I want to see more days

I want to be heard, can anyone hear me
The rain falls hard, hitting hard my bare back
with every drop, my scars become more scarce 
The rain I love, it cleanses my tears
The rain is my friend, atleast am not so alone
The drench and the cold night are better than the place i call home 

Sounds of the rain soothe my lonely heart
Sounds in the dark protect me from the pain
Sounds of my cries assure me that am okay 
The songs I write in the rain, are my tickets to be away

Sponsor	Pendleton Arkwright
Contest Name Rain and Dark, Isolated Places 
 

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic |
Teen boys are always getting teen girls pregnant, but older men, impregnating underage girls? When will teen pregnancy stop? It seems that these underage girls have been seeing these men in their 20s or 30s behind the backs of their moms and/or dads. And the next thing everybody knows, one day later, those teen girls, they will have wounded up getting pregnant in an instant. No matter what the parents do to prevent their teen daughters from ever becoming mothers at an early age, let alone 15, no matter how hard they try, they just won't listen. And no matter what the moms and/or the dads will have done by showing their teen daughters the dangers of teen parenting, they still won't listen. These older men have always been messing around with the underage girls (ages 14, 15, 16, and/or 17) and are always getting getting them pregnant. What's so cold about it is that their parents will have been seriously upset about the fact that these grown men have robbed those teen girls of their innocence and their futures. And instead of teen girls going to college to become, teachers, lawyers, and/or doctors, because of these grown men, those teen girls will have been forced to have dropped out of high school to take care of their kids. See, there's a problem with those underage girls: they just can't concentrate on their education, thereby getting their high school diplomas and/or college degrees. The girls really should've waited until after they'd gotten married to guys their age and then have kids. And if these men in their 20s, 30s, or 40s weren't going to take care of their kids that the young mothers have given birth to because those sexist, womanizing Neanderthals who've gotten them pregnant to begin with, they should've used condoms and/or left those teen girls alone. As a matter fact, these grown men should've gotten arrested for impregnating teen girls by way of statutory rape. What's with these young teen girls, always falling for guys twice or three times their age, knowing they should date guys their age. Why must these grown men always wanting to get those underage girls pregnant at an early age, let along 15? I mean, who does that. It's just way, way, way too much for their parents (the moms and/or the dads) to handle. And if this type of teen pregnancy continues to expand by the year 2016 and these adult men continue to rob those teen girls of their futures, their so-called "childhood," and their innocence, their parents, they're doomed. This ends now!

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | I do not know? |
MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me

Copyright © MIKAYLA BROWN | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
To My Mother 
On Mothers Day



I thought and thought
What gift I can give, to my late mother
On this auspicious Mother’s Day,

A gift for my Mother,
Who passed away from this world, 
Many many years back, on Mother’s day.

She must be living in peace,
While living on earth,
She was my inspiration and my precious teacher.

She charmed everyone, who got a chance
To meet her,
By her simplicity and love and selfless devotion.

Her melodious singing and playing of Violin,
Defused the gifts of poetry and writing in me,
Because of you perhaps, O Mother dear. 

She taught me the lessons of Music and Poetry,
Of life and its duties, not by taking my classes ever,
But by teaching me and others, what actually was our real duty,

She silently taught, the lessons of kindness and love,
Of facing the ups and down of life,
Without being sad and disturbed.

She taught me to be firm and sturdy in life,
And to never feel forfeited and disturbed,
Even if, success was no where visible.

How great was your greatness, we could not know it earlier,
You gave your precious years to my motherland, O Mother 
Sometimes directly fighting for our freedom, 

While in your remaining life, you cared and inspired, 
Even my father, to not only sacrifice his entire young age,
For the cause of India’s freedom, 

But also to write books and create, poetry likes Patradoot,
Which father wrote in Faizabad jail*, 
And dedicated it to you, O Mother dear.


Many decades have passed, when this great book,
In Hindi was written by my father,
Depicting the India, as it was around 1932.

O Mother, to day, on this great Mothers Day,
I am dedicating English version of that great epic to you,
So that the world may come to know,

The real life beauty of this great story*,
And the beauty of this gem of a writing of my father,
Which shines once in a blue moon only, 
On the horizon of poetry.

Ravindra

Kanpur India 9th May 10

  
* Story.	Hindi name Patradoot and in English ‘The Messenger’


* Faizabad jail.	My father( 1899-1994) late Dr Amarnath Kapoor devoted almost his entire young life 1920-47 for the cause of India’s freedom struggle, as a follower of Gandhi. During his long imprisonment in Faizabad jail, he wrote ‘the Messenger’ as a unique story in poetry in Hindi & secretly sent it to my mother, The Messenger was published and circulated 
in Hindi around 1933-34 with the result, the British rulers confiscated my father’s printing 
press for ever and its publications and again put him to jail.  
			

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

Details | I do not know? |
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

In the several centuries 
Before the coming of Christ
The Jews in Palestine re-examined 
Eliminated some of the books 

From existing collection
As not in harmony with the Law of Moses as 
Of doubtful inspiration
The Pharisees set up four criteria 

Which their sacred 
Books had to pass 
In order to be included 
In the revised Jewish Canon

(1)	They had to be in harmony with the Pentateuch (Torah or Law)

(2)	They had to be written before the time of Ezra

(3)	They had to be written in Hebrew

(4)	They had to have been written in Palestine

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2011

Details | Alliteration |
Life is so crazy/ 
Death so busy it never get's lazy/ 
Thoughts blurred and blinded by true lies that they always get hazy/ 
The mother ****ing devil is always trying to chase me/ 
But I'm stronger than that I won't ever let *****like that ever ****ing faze me/
 I no longer care if any muther ****ers want to over or under rate me/ 
I've already been ****ing up on my own lately/ 
I take your ****ing criticism greatly/ 
*****es I'm too real for any of you fake mother ****ers to fake me/ 
I'm too ****ing still in God's foundation to let the devil shake me/ 
I'm the general, the king of my own *****nobody can't ever break me/ 
**** what people say for I am the maker of my own *****people can't ever make me/
 I'm the leader and deliverer of my own *****you can never take me/ 
Who want to question *****about *****mother ****ers thats why I'm Writer Crazy.....

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
Chicken is poultry
it’s not poetry

I may write chicken scratch
I’m an artist to match

Mother disowns me
am I truly free?

Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet |
The Best Any Mother Ever Birthed And Reared



He stared back at his life amazed
a scattering of miracles here and there
many cried out that he was crazed
when he gave that stern look and stare

Back there vast plains loudly waved
forested jungles crept up so very slow
Nature he wanted touched and saved
a tragedy of pain that the angels know

Dry, dead cities awaited his return
the man that set beauty in the blue sky
his life , a tree destined to burn
walking where others feared to even try

A man among men they admired and feared
the best any mother ever birthed and reared!

Robert J. Lindley, 02-27-2015

note:  Dedicated to H D L ....

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.

Copyright © Natala Orobello | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dramatic Verse |
Of all screw ups.
To presume anything often leads to foul territory;
It literally can land you on cactus needle laden fields,
Assuming bent over position will surely prompt swift kick.

Looking too closely may place eye balls in viper's glare,
Try enjoying total view without close up prying invasion.
Pretending understanding minus knowledge is fool's mistake;
Listen carefully to talker and he might kindly let you in.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn


Copyright © Robert Gruhn | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |
MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me

Copyright © MIKAYLA BROWN | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic monologue |
Those teen moms are and/or will have been up to no good, especially by going to unsupervised parties, doing drugs, and stuff. They had their babies not too long ago, but they continue their out of control ways, including by way of neglecting their own offspring? I mean, who in the world does that kind of stuff? It seems that the parents (thee mothers and/or the fathers) really should've kept their teen daughters locked up in their rooms and on top of all that, those underage girls, they never should've been teen mothers to begin with. On top of all that, those teen girls were supposed to concentrate on their education instead of messing around with those womanizing fiends. There's always a problem with teen girls-turned-teen mothers; they’re always having unprotected sex with multiple guys, drinking alcoholic beverages (vodka, beer, and rum, e.g.), using illegal drugs, and stuff. All teen girls should be ashamed of themselves, not taking care of the ones who’ve brought them into God’s green Earth. The only ones who’re responsible for getting those teen girls pregnant, thereby bringing the infants to this world are those dead-beat teen fathers. It’s their fault. They did this. They brought those kids into this world. What those teen girls should’ve done was to have told their loser boyfriends to use condoms, otherwise they never would’ve gotten pregnant. Not only have those out-of-control teen mothers put their own families at risk with their reckless behaviors, they also put their own children at risk, and it’s got to stop right here, right now!Those teen girls, they shouldn’t be mothers at an early age, let alone 13 or 17 and they definitely shouldn’t be putting their own children in a dangerous environment, thereby being harmed by those cold-blooded gang bangers and/or drug-dealers. The reckless behaviors of all teen mothers will have gotten their own children killed or worse. The employees of Child Protective Services and the local police are going to hear this. Everybody’s seeing multiple life sentences in the future and those teen mothers should not just be stripped of their parenting rights, they should also lose custody of their children. It’s making everybody sick just thinking about it. And if this type of ordeal continues to go on, it’ll lead straight to destruction. All teen guys, use condoms! All teen girls, keep your legs closed! And all teen lovebirds, keep your clothes on! No children until after education is completed and marriage!

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse |
MY WINNING CENTURY POEM!
  -Dharga Nagar Safa

A century-

One hundred runs in just an hour,

In the funny game of cricket,

A century,

One hundred years-

8,76,000 hours in the game of life,

My prayers for my mother,Sahidiya,to live long a century!

Every letter,every word,every sentence,every paragraph....

Of my poems from the womb of my mother,

The drops of ink wetting a small piece of paper,

Injected in me with her breast,

She carried me and brought down guiding to carry on in life,

It carried me to the World that you dreamt,today,

My Ma!,look,where I am now?

At the center of the Globe carrying you in a poem,

May it a success and may it a failure,

My carrying you in my poem,is a win for me!










Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp

Copyright © Justin Robbins | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
Patradoot or The Messenger  2/Many
Originally written in Hindi by my late 
father Dr. Amar Nath Kaporr around 1932


English version 

Being a prisoner I can bring my beloved,
In my mind through meditation only,
Due to separation from my beloved,  I can sing 
My expressions coming out from my heart,
Before you only, my dear letter.

Ravindra

Kanpur India  10th May 2010		to continue in 03/Many
Patradoot or The Messenger 5/Many

English version by
Ravindra K Kapoor

Background of this Epic 

The Patradoot was written originally by my late father
Dr.Amar Nath Kapoor in 1932. He had joined India’s
Freedom struggle in 1920 on the call of Mahatma Gandhi.
From 1920 till 1947 (India became free in 1947)
my father was in active movement as Congressman & 
Gandhi’s non-violent soldier. For many times he was 
imprisoned for many months and sometime, even for more 
than a year. He dedicated the entire writing work to his 
dear wife, my late mother, who was also a co-partner with 
him in the freedom struggle in creating mass awareness. 

During one such imprisonment at Faizabad jail, he wrote 
this epic and sent it to my mother secretly as a gift for her 
and to get it printed & circulated among the masses to 
create awareness for India’s freedom. The book was 
printed by my mother in Hindi and some of this epic were 
circulated also, but the British confiscated the book and the
press of my father around 1933. I was born in 1950 in a free 
India. I am trying to bring this great writing of my father in 
English which portrays more than the translation of the epic, 
so the world may come to know about this otherwise lost 
and forgotten great great writing and the sacrifices of my 
parents towards India’s freedom struggle.

Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor left active politics after 1947 
and devoted rest of his life in writing easy mass literature 
and wrote many Dramas, Poetry books, epics etc. All his 
other literary works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. Unfortunately many of his
World class works could not be published so far and Patradoot
is one of them.

Ravindra


Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

Transliteration of Hindi poem in English- Patradoot or the Messenger.


Bundi Buna Huaa Mai Kewal,

Dhayan Magna Ho Ja Ta Hun,

Priya Viyog Ke Madhur Gan Ko,

Tere Sunmukh Gata Hun.

By Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Freedom Fighter and writer, Poet & Dramatist
(1889-1994)
He mainly wrote all his other works between 1950 -1990







Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
It’s summertime 
and Janis wails through the speakers.
I sit at my picnic table, 
papers scattered, 
and I chase perfect words
like I used to chase butterflies.

My kids splash through the scene, 
armed with Super Soakers.
Their antics threaten to jar 
the few words I managed 
to land on the page.
  
They jump in the pool -
giggles come up for air 
in a million bubbles.

I trade my pen
for a popsicle,
join them poolside,
and succumb to 
easy living and
the sweltering  rhythms of
“SUMMERTIME.”

Copyright © Dawn Mungovan | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rhyme |
Mary has a little lamb, never would name the ram Susie sat on a thistle, took off like a missile Goose Mother Rhymes are a favorite of mine I making them up all the time This is great My oh my Goose Mother Rhymes Make the headlines “It about time”, I’ve always said U.S. Censorship should be dead Don’t sit, show some grit, have a fit and then hit the nitwit Get publishing permit Let’s agree that: “This land is your land” “Censorships”, “suppressions” should be banned Inequitable, unfair, wrongful, and unjust Therefore getting things set right is a must These Goose Mother Rhymes are happy in the eyes of most Censorship, is running on empty; a stop is close Now the time to publish these Rhymes, they’ll be a hit The Censor; “He was an egotistical twit”

Copyright © Charles Sides | Year Posted 2012