Best Maternal Poems
To be a mother is to be
rain and sunshine at once
to drown oneself while saving another
and to give hope while being hopeless.
To be a mother is
exciting and scary
with bouts of anxiety and care
preaching self love while hating self
To be a mother is to be
a safe haven and a shield
to endure and suppress needs
while giving off self without restraint.
To be a mother is nights of sleeplessness for a sick child
and sorrowful prayers when it gets worse
to wake up tired and exhausted yet smiling
to tend and nurse
To be a mother is to be everything at once
to see and understand without any clue
to finish sentences and endure tantrums
to want to cry, disappear and yet cook at the same time.
To be a mother is to blamed for not doing enough
and accused of doing too much
to sacrifice and still be sacrificed
to know pain deeply like a first name
To be a mother is all this and more
it is rewarding, fulfilling and unnerving
a gift and a semi curse
it is a blessing mixed with pain, pride, grief and sacrifice.
To be a mother is to want to be a god
And yet fail
it is to read this poem and relate to it
and to pick a line and say - this is me.
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.
With magnetic fascination
akin to domestication
I connect with Ms. Rabbit’s dawn.
Four babies she’s laid in my lawn.
Provoked by supernal emotion
stirred by a sense of procreation
I cancel lawn fertilizer.
Grass cutter? I will advise her.
Unparalleled admiration
drives my kids to affirmation.
They promise to protect new pets
no bikes, baseballs or bayonets.
Deeply compelled, preservation
builds a hutch in exaltation.
Field glasses from my window pane
track nature’s risks: sun, wind and rain.
July 6, 2019
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for contest FINETUNE THIS, A COLLABORATION sponsored by Line Gauthier
AFFINITY WITH NATURE
by Line Gauthier
Magnetic fascination
Kin to emancipation
A connection internal
Stirs emotions supernal
Nature is unparalleled
Provokes intoxication
As we feel deeply compelled
To exalt admiration
Who first gave to us the gift
Of how to love each other?
Was it not from infancy,
We gleaned it from our mother?
Who first gave the loving touch
Of tenderness and care?
Was it not a daily gift
Of mother being there?
Who first kissed us on the cheek,
Who studied every trait?
Who would work and toil for us
And who would always “wait.”
Who would stop to listen
And who would kneel to pray?
Who would show the Savior’s love
Day, by day, by day?
From birth until the grave
We forever gain so much,
By laying hold of mother’s love
Like she laid hold of us.
For My Darling Sister, My Punky
My love for you now aches with an acute, piercing concern.
I feel your emotions shudder inside my own heart’s downturn.
Lean on me, let me absorb your aches as maternal will not break.
You are so precious to me, I would rather life's painful strikes
seek me than witness them blister you with their insistence.
Lean on me, let our combined hearts and smarts find answers.
Know without judgment, fear, or derision, I will lovingly listen
to your broken bits unfurl in plight's reveal of your soul's mission.
Lean on me, for I attended the same hellish multi-themed lessons.
Love being gave birth...
Nurtured by her purity...
God's gift is mother...
she knew he was wrong, very wrong, yet she loved her son dear,
mother’s love is divine strong, from darkness would steer him clear!
Premier contest winner (9)
Written 25/09/21
Your best rhyming poetry contest
Milton L Hankins sponsored
14 syllables each line
breast cancer runs rampant within me late mother side
whar moost every female diagnosed with emotional ride
into the depths of despair where metastatic cells pried
their way into the appendages whar din o suckling provide
did initial sustenance prior to malignant growth lied
Innocuously within fleshy tissue til oncologist could not hide
Truth from females that birthed and availed motherly guide
among most ever Harris heiress, whence treatment fried
will power to live (I can only imagine) as rogue growth did elide
as nemesis to body politick where no boxes of tissues dried
the river of tears when such news shell shocked me – I cried
for indiscriminate injustice whence fate snatched me father’s bride
shunting any trivial tit for tat resentments re: grudges aside.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
no other priority but being alive matters when surgeon knife
for malignant curse forces impending mortals to value life
purposeless double mastectomy performed when invisible mass rife
with errant duty to destroy sense and sensibility commanding strife
whether circumstance involved me eldest sister (still alive) or the late wife.
me octogenarian widower father summoned breastworks when last breath
o me long deceased mother – vehemently opposed being sentenced to death
no matter visualization practiced – such as furiously swapping with broom
who truthfully cursed with ovarian cancer, which spelt her actual doom
an unstoppable toxic brew within her being that coursed as meandering flume
Time elapsed, yet still difficult to espy wedding pictures with handsome groom
that would be my 20 plus year old father unbeknownst ill fate would loom
occupying cellular wall street where awry growth jostled for room
a harbinger of lifelessness, whereby she chose creation versus burial in a tomb
many fifty odd decades after my youngest sister exited the womb!
by: matthew scott harris
Baby powder soft,
warm security comfort -
worthiness restored.
Rocking, patting my back cures -
Maternal gifts give lifelong.
When mum would talk to other folks about her family,
She’d always speak particularly proudly about me …
Of how I’d gone to grammar school, my bookish ‘steel-trap’ mind.
To hear her, you would think I was a boon to all mankind!
It should have made me happy to have such a super Mum …
So why did I feel sheepish, and fat, and gross, and DUMB?
Why could I never say to any person how I felt,
Or tell them how I wished the ground beneath me would just melt?
Could it have been because I sensed that, under Mother’s pride,
The plain unvarnished truth was, she was never satisfied?
Did she feel that I’d let her down by being fat and clumsy?
Or was it that I loved my Dad more than I loved my Mumsie?
For, truth to tell, that was a fact. For all she wished it other,
I loved my father in a way I never could love Mother.
I do know she was jealous of the love between us two …
She let it slip in ‘chance’ remarks such as “Who’d look at you?”
“Your skirt’s too short!” “You’re much too fat!” and far unkinder slurs.
She saw me as a rival for his love, that should be hers.
She never learned the secret. No, she never found the key –
That he loved me just as I was, not “How I ought to be … “
The tragic thing was, we loved her in just that same way too.
We tried to show it, but poor Mum could not believe it true.
So, after all, it wasn’t me who wasn’t good enough –
No-one could satisfy her, not a soul could measure up.
For Mum had never loved herself: she’d never felt worthwhile.
That was the truth behind the boasts: the tears behind the smile.
She couldn’t let herself be loved. She never could perceive
True love can never be possessed, but it must be received.
I feel so sad to think of how she wasted her whole life
Pursuing love, in such a way all she could cause was strife.
By fighting hard to keep us, she was driving us away.
If only she could let us go, perhaps we would have stayed …
But now I am determined not to make the same mistake.
From now on, I shall give love, and accept love, but NOT TAKE!
The imaginary unborn
lives within my soul
It will never die
or ever get old
Yet there's a joy
that lies within
the depths of my being
She watches with head tipped to the side
The smile on her face spreads wide
Days full of giggles and laughter
If tomorrow never comes this is her happily ever after.
Playful rhymes, singing and dance
Sharing these moments are her new romance
Jumping in puddles, spinning around
Building sand castles she feels so proud
Who needs possessions, money or promotion?
She's got all she needs: family time and devotion
My Maternal Grandfather Said -- I
......................................
Solomon said to Kash Dev
'Drain this valley !'.
I'll but , Hamala Pari, the charming fairy...!
So the big giant had drained the vast valley with his heel,
And it dried.
Don't you see Vyeth-- river Jhelum!
Don't you see 'Sulaiman Teng' , the mount in Srinagar --Solomon had his throne?
Dedicated to Kyle, My Darling Son
My greatest need, I humbly lift high for God to nurse,
setting my soul’s deepest wish on the truest course.
Surely, in His time, the best answer will disperse.
As birthdays pass, my questions also fast increase,
so nightmarish fears continue to seek release.
My challenged, gentle boy, is now a challenged man,
and I remain a concerned mother lacking a plan.
He has conquered much, many 'cannots' became ‘cans’,
still, he will need a true love-lean when I am gone.
I NEED to know loving aid will hold him lifelong.
.
MATERNAL LOVE
Mother Duck and Ducklings venture from cattail cover
wiley mother duck
which wee waddler will you sacrifice
to the prowling fox