Best Mother Father Poems
Prelude of blessings in the cradle of nature
Bringing tears in my drained eyes’ stature
Care and love personified as dear mother
Door to the world opened by my father.
Door to the world opened by my father
Care and love personified as dear mother
Bringing tears in my drained eyes’ stature
Prelude of blessings in the cradle of nature.
Date of Entry : 12/08/2020
Everyday, I go to work
Never thinking of the things
That make all the difference in my heart
Things like Mama is graying
Daddy is walking more slowly
Uncle David is in pain
Aunt Judy’s life is full
~
I never think of the things that matter
The times we should be sharing
Before it is too late for the moments
The family get togethers
~
Time doesn’t slow down for anyone
And it will come around my way
Reminding me that I didn’t take it
To give of my heart and spirit
To make a way to share a quiet day
To find some time to answer a question
To let go of my worries and just be fun
For a moment, there in the sun
~
Everyday, I go on to work
Never looking at the things that matter
The lost moments that I could spend with one
Who is a true treasure, a God given blessing
Someone who I’m meant to spend time with
In heartfelt exchanges of heartfelt expressions
~
Everyday, I continue on the path I’ve taken
Without truly thinking that there will come a time
When I won’t have the chance to be there for them
These people who I love with all the compassion I have
These people who mean the entire world to me
These people who I call my friends and family
Two blessed creating one,
Conceived and nourished in love.
A healthy daughter or son,
A miracle from God above.
The most precious gift of all,
Is the gift of a child,
To a longing, loving couple,
Awaiting that sweet little smile.
To know such amazing joy,
When you feel your baby kick and move.
A hidden treasure; a little girl or boy,
Growing strong in their Mother's womb.
To understand such amazing grace,
When your baby finally arrives.
To gaze for the first time upon your child's face
With absolute joy and pride.
A chance to live your life again,
Through the innocent eyes of a child.
To be carefree without a sin,
Ready to forgive and easily beguiled.
To see and talk with the angels once more.
To play and to make believe.
To find fun and happiness behind every door.
To wait up for Santa on Christmas Eve.
To be looked upon with trusting eyes,
And to know there is nothing greater,
Than to protect, provide, teach and guide,
As a loving Mother and Father.
As time goes by and your baby grows,
With fond memories sweet and mild.
You will come to know what Heaven knows,
There is nothing more precious than the gift of a child.
A Homeless Child
By Elton Camp
Destiny doesn’t live in a country far away
She’s a child born and living in the USA
Destiny and her mother have lived alone
The child’s father is not dead—just gone
She doesn’t understand why he’s not there
“Mother, why is it my daddy doesn’t care?”
To explain to the child, the mother tries
But she can’t keep tears from her eyes
“Your father just wasn’t ready to settle down.
Someday soon, he says, he will come around.”
The mother worked hard for very low pay
But her company had to shut down one day
Their life then became endless helter-skelter
Most nights they spent at the homeless shelter
Destiny misses her home along with all her toys
Wishes she could be like most girls and boys
Instead, she huddles against her mother in fear
As another scary night on the street draws near
(To see the supporting picture, go to http://www.scribd.com/doc/78236749/A-Homeless-Child )
My mother says that I'll never see.
My father says that I'll never hear.
My brother I'll never get higher than a C.
My sister says I'll never tolerate beer.
Every day, my family puts me down.
They say that they're just being realistic.
But there is one thing they didn't put on that excuse mound.
That they're not perfect, they're never optimistic.
Studies show that the reason bullies
Put others down,
Isn't to please,
Not because they find pleasure in the pound;
Not because they like to tease,
But that it brings them up.
To the brim of their cup.
Mom, I see that you're an alcoholic,
Dad, I hear that you're in a financial rut.
Brother, I've gotten all A's and and one B. But not higher than you are on your drugs.
Sister, you were right. Unlike you, I won't drink, or portray myself as a ****.
And Uncle?
Thank you.
For helping my grades up to A's and B's.
For prohibiting drinking and drugging.
And...,
For opening my eyes and ears,
To see and hear,
That it's not me.
It's them.
Was I planned when you conceived?
Its something I would like to believe
But the truth is so blatantly clear
You didn,t really want me here
A burden to you from the day I was born
A mother and child bond was never formed
My father God bless his heart
Became mother and father from the start
It was not long before you upped and left
Running away from your responsabiltys is what you did best
To live a carefree life with no ties
Drinking and partying until sunrise
Five times,five children,five lives you destroyed
But in your mind we were all void
Why does God allow people like you to conceive
When so many childless couples would love to achieve
Having five children all healthy and well
But not you everyone around you could tell
A moment of fun is all you wanted to feel
Having children was not part of the deal
A mother is a name that should be earned
But this will never be the case where you are concerned
You didn,t really want any of us
All you were interested in was lust
Mother Nature met Old Father Time, and what a good time they had
They cavorted for quite along while, she a girl, him a bit of a lad.
Then one day when Father Time, a wrinkle set in mother natures plan
All those things she gave birth too, he decided he's not a fan.
The renewal of all things good, Mother Nature sent our way
Father time lets them flourish, and then sends them on their way.
Mother Nature keeps giving birth, a wondrous mother she proves to be
But Old Father Time throws his tantrums, he tries to be the boss of she.
So the mother and father that we all know are still battling day by day
But let’s let them get on with it, and try not to get in either ones way.
© ~GG~ 07’03’2013
At almost every wedding you could count on my father telling the newly wed couple:
“You know, if you put a penny in a jar every time you make love during the first year of marriage and then removed a penny from the jar every time you make love thereafter …you will never empty the jar.”
One of my cousins didn’t quite understand the jest of the challenge and, for years, every time she saw my father she would say, “Uncle John, we’re still putting pennies in our jar.”
He tried to explain it to her a couple times before just giving up and responding, “That’s great, Becky.”
When my father passed away earlier this year, while helping my mother pack up some of his things from their room, I found an old glass jar with a few pennies in it under the night table on his side of the bed.
I chuckled, and, after showing it to his wife of fifty-nine years, my mother, I said, “Looks like you guys were just a few pennies short of emptying your jar.”
My mother shook her head and responded, “That old fool just kept putting his change in that jar and telling me; ‘We still got some work to do to empty this thing.’”
I dumped the few pennies into my hand and noticed two of them with wheat stems on the back, indicating they were old pennies. I handed them to my mom and told her to look at the date on them.
1952 – the year they were married.
A tear came to her eyes again, as had happened often over the past few weeks, and she just said again, “That old fool.”
I dumped the pennies back into the jar and placed it over on her side of the bed.
We continued packing up his stuff in silence.
Merciful Deceased Mother - Father T'will See Thee Anon
Atheism underscores bedrock
schema Holy Toledo
encompassing mine secular humanistic credo
simultaneously tricking elusive illusion, sans
supernal radiant quintessence
blasting damn ming the torpedo
didst alight kindle linkedin skepticism,
asper this son kissed faith no more,
(nor e'er didst I believe)
with irrefutably blinding albedo.
Though both parents
predecessors theology, included prayer
purportedly distilled within
Eastern European Jewry, where
without bonafied definite
certainty doubts to square
lee dismiss, this mortal
forced to conjecture dare
ring declaratively, while
sitting in thinking chair
(bet my bottom dollar to air)
course, I take leap of faith here
me forebears most likely
modus operandi did adhere
practiced, skewed, premised
Semitic virtue and vice
towed toward theistic obeisance suffice
hath to claim parochial paradigms mice
self attests little doubt,
(no matter scant rice
sized grain genealogical details posit,
one granule pepper, or
other old World spice)
supposed speculative precepts
akin to bing as loose as lice
sen shuss behavior
precepts prevails precise
lee predicated on
(at the minimum Reformed) price
less cherished Jewish,
traditions as device
ordering existence, (perhaps Judeo Christian)
principled tenets to whit
and mention above sit
chew waited at down
chronological arc soon to quit
final chapter of life, though
near ninety year old papa will visit
death be not proud realm
after he doth exhaust limit
of his mortal tenure, I admit
he gives nary a fig,
his meager profit
will not be deeded to any church,
and this sole son
expects (dentured teeth to grit
tight and eyes teary)
to reed only commendable
comments asper his obit,
where spirit of Harriet Harris fuses
with that of Boyce Harris as one unit
Tarry yon forever!
I Think that I Saw You Today, Or at Least a Version of Who You Once Were.
I am Trying Hard to Hold Onto Memories that Once Captured the Beautiful Experiences Shared, that Now Seem to Slip Away With The Passage of Time.
I Don't Know if I Should Embrace The Present, Enjoy Each Day and Cherish The Time Left, Or Recollect the Past and Remember What May Never Be Again?
Your 60th Birthday was a Milestone That Seemed to Hold Such Promise.
Retirement in Five Years, Travel, and the Beginning of the Golden Years.
Now It Appears to Be the Beginning of When It All Started.
You Were Here to Change My Diapers, Give Bottles, and Provide the Nurturing that Every Child or Infant Needs.
Now I am Here To Play a Similar Role, Though I Wish it Were Not Left to Me Alone, For I am One of Six Adult Children.
Should I Try To Make It Easier On You, By Not Pushing Too Hard, Or On Me By Encouraging You to Remember The Past that Is Now Lost?
Maybe This Process Makes It Easier To Let Go?
I Don't Know, I Only Know It Hurts To Hold On Like This.
I Wonder IF I Let You Go, Will You Even Notice?
I Know that If You Were You, Then You Would Care.
I Just Know that This is a Long and Lonely Road.
Sincerely,
Your Son,
Author Paul Cumberbatch (November 3rd, 2020)
It was one of those times; one of those sincere discussions;
She told me about my fathers words to her when he was on his death bed.
What he asked her may seem funny to some;
What he asked her was to make sure I had a warm jacket and shoes every winter.
At the time I was already in my forties but I guess it didn’t matter to him.
Then we talked about the time we walked in to his hospital room;
My father immediately said he was confused.
I asked him “Dad do you know who I am”?
He said yes I do but why are you so old and she’s so young;
He was pointing at my wife Susan; but I knew it wasn’t her he saw.
He was seeing my mother long passed; here’s the thing about that;
I saw that my wife had the same spirit as my mother years before.
We all believe my mother was there to take him and who better to use as a catalyst.
I never had a chance to see my mother but I know her; she lives in me and is part of me.
I couldn’t see her right then but I could feel her and I could see Susan too.
As we talked we both had tears in our eyes and I think we were both a bit overwhelmed;
I could see how lifetime experiences can never be forgotten or dismissed.
So I asked her why she betrayed me like she did;
And that I could maybe forgive her if I could just understand why.
When she spoke I heard truth and I finally understood why.
So I forgave her and accepted the circumstances and the part I played in it all;
To what end remains to be seen but the pain seems to have been lifted from me.
As we broke the conversation off I began to reflect on the entire topic;
There were no definitive conclusions but what I did feel was;
My Father and my Mother had come to see me for Christmas.
Call me crazy, tell me it’s wishful thinking; even say I’m delusional;
I saw it, I heard it and I felt it; it happened and I won’t be denied.
I learned to be a real man from the pain I suffered;
My ego and sex no longer dominate or motivate my relationships;
And God in his mercy gave me the best Christmas ever
7/10/2018
I used to think a mother was just somebody who made babies
I used to think if I made one, my child would save me.
They'd tell me once you got a kid, you gotta let go of your dreams
no time for college when you gotta cook, change diapers and clean.
I thought I'd have his baby if I couldn't be his wife
but I was only 19 knowin nothing bout life
Girls my age already had 2 kids and an ACS case
stayed wit their mommas or their baby daddys place
head out to clubs and parties while friends watch the kid
not knowing the male presence that stalked over the crib
too busy on their iPhones to notice their 2 year old fell
the baby's hungry chewing up all the drugs daddy left to sell.
Black and Latina women viciously beatin their children
you can hear it all throughout the project building
The anger of being a single teenage mother on welfare
almost worse than when her man kicked her 7 month pregnant belly down the stairs.
The first vision of mom and pops is in family court
cuz he ain't paying no more child support
either way it's spent on pedicures not pampers
daddy misses every visit buyin himself drinks and private dancers.
I used to think a mother was just somebody who made babies
I just hope my child doesn't ever grow to hate me.
Mommy's drowning with depression, daddy's battling being bipolar
pain was our cursed connection, it got worse once he got sober.
Don't ever doubt we loved each other and you
but when daddy saw red, mommy only saw blue.
I'm sorry I cried so much with you in my womb
sorry if you felt papi throw me across the room.
I worried about you baby so I had to leave
it was bad but not worse than I'd ever been beat.
Vow to never let you go through all the stuff I did
though I want him around...I got more than enough love to give.
Dear unborn baby, I've spent 36 weeks carrying you inside
my love only grows as I feel you ready to arrive.
I used to think a mother was just somebody who had babies
but there's a difference between my "mother" and the "woman who made me."
When I was born, I had a mother. I had a father too.
Early one morning - still being dark I saw my father
leave. I ran after him and begged him not to go. I
was only three years old. He didn't listen and left
me standing there alone.
My mother stayed for a while, but later she left too.
To grow up without a father is sad, but to grow up
without a mother can be really bad, especially when
you know that the people that are raising you are
not your real parents.
We all grew up with different people. My sisters and I
were given away. Being the oldest of the girls, I did a
search to find them all. I found one sister first, then we
both searched for the mother that gave us birth.
We soon found her, she seemed sad. A second family
she did have. I had a brother that was older then me,
but now I had four more brothers. Two more sisters we
would find. There was one that we could not find, until
Dec. of 2007, we finally met.
I am happy that we all met, at least we know where we
came from. We see each other on and off. There are no
regrets or grudges to hold, cause who am I to judge. I am
no judge nor jury. There is a God that will judge us all and
and he will give us what we deserve...
10/13/2012
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Comments:
All this is true and part of my life. We were five
sisters and five brothers. There are many stories
in this world. This has been one of them
WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD IS TRUE. the night was like every other, different than the ones before. i was standing so still in the dark house. father comes home from work, the bar; he is drunk. mother sits nearby watching his every move. she was trained not to say a word. stumbling around, he rants and raves. i bring him his dinner as he flips through the channels. he settles on a tv show, one he watches every night. i back out of the room, trying not to draw his attention. he mutters to himself about his job, NO ONE RESPECTS HIM THE WAY HE DESERVES TO BE RESPECTED. BY GOD HE WILL BE RESPECTED IN HIS OWN HOME. mother carries his tray away with shaking hands. he notices her cautiousness and sneers at her back. she is washing dishes now, glad that she is out of his view if only for a moment. he calls me back into the room: he wants a drink and he wants it now. the cat winds her body around my legs, making me slow on my feet. i gently nudge the cat out of the way. father notices and looks at me sharply. he pushes me back as he gets up and leaves the room. he walks to the kitchen. i take over washing the dishes. mother needs some rest. he looks closely at the ones already washed and picks at some imaginary stain. THESE ARENT CLEAN! he throws them to the floor; he sweeps the whole counter to the floor. he empties the cupboards and pushes all the dishes to the floor. i start to cry but a look to mother stops me; her eyes plea silently to be still. i cant make a sound as father rants and raves about dirty dishes that are clean. bowls and silverware are strewn across the floor; some make faces at me. their eyes are empty and wide, mouths a jagged line trembling as he stomps across the floor. he kicks a face and picks up part of its mouth; he throws a fork at me. it lands with a sharp scratch in the sink. i duck just in time. water spills everywhere. father storms out of the kitchen. i look down and see the faces on the floor; some of the faces are crying, some of the faces are laughing.
from your first born, when you grab a dusting of talc, crushed with late night feeds, stirring in bouncing and stories on a knee,
adding a layer of stumbled steps, with a batter thickly made of learning to say “No”, doughy rings of crossed arm tantrums,
glazed slowly with parent’s evenings and bringing first dates home (sprinkled with questions from Dad) before adding candles for sweet sixteens and exam results,
packaged carefully in a ribboned box to protect from life in a university dorm, your tears adding moisture to an increasingly distant mixture,
silver lace can be wrapped around to celebrate a wedding, supporting that newly added layer of Mr and Mrs, matching mortar boards made from icing, surrounded by love heart shaped chews,
you buy an electric whisk when your hands hurt from stirring, still rustling up cookies for grandchildren using grandma’s special sugar, butter and flour,
until you go back to the trusted cookbook, scattering gold dust over fifth birthday cakes, dyed icing and sponge into the colours of a superhero – a grandchild’s eyes bigger than their belly,
your cakes gradually change from pottery to silk, from gold to diamond, for your anniversaries past, you contemplate making a Victoria sponge in black, allow yourself to grieve your husband’s last,
until a great grandchild grins and brings you a cupcake all aglow, revealing a one hundredth birthday candle which is your very own to blow