Best Mother Teresa Poems
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.)
I believe all of us everyday
whether we call it hoping, dreaming or wishing…
pray in our own way…
Which is why I like the wisdom to this thought
that Mother Teresa brings:
I use to believe that prayer changes things,
but now I know that
prayer changes us,
and we change things.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta,
Was a bit of a nutter,
She upset the slums,
When playing the drums.
Mother Teresa
Not like the Mona Lisa
A bit like father time
Does not smile like Gandhi
( Quote ) "Peace begins with a smile.”
“Come be My light,”
This luminous messenger of God
Belong to the world
Missionary of Charity, a “mother to the poor,”
Mother Teresa of Calcutta (1910-1997)
12-11-12
This morning the calling bell rang just at
Five, I thought it was the paper vendor
Sun was yet to spread its golden impact
His time was at six, who was the caller
A soft violin tune of sweet ghazal
Sweetened the small space I was seated in
From my room the clouds looked like cathedral
The air outside seemed scented and serene
Opening the door I was mesmerized
Cross on her shoulder and rosary bead
Clad in blue bordered sari looking bright
Feet in sandals, arm carrying a kid
With fond gaze and fervour her eyes agleam
She was mother Teresa in my dream
_______________________________________________
02/9/16
Note: Ghazal is a lyric poem in Indian literature
Sari is South Asian garment for women comprising a length of cotton or silk
draped around the body
“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” Mother Theresa
Helping other people is the best gift you can give to our God,
You don’t have to be rich to show how much you care for them,
All you have to do is help them in your own simple way,
Be a blessing by giving them hope in times of troubles everyday
A simple act of kindness is enough to lighten their days,
Especially to those who are down and faced many trials,
Be there when the claws of life attack their precious life
Feeling of contentment and happiness will filled your heart
“Not all of us can do great things,
But we can do small things with great love.”
Give your precious time with the less fortunate,
The power is in your hands to make difference.
for Giorgio's Impress Mw With Small Poems III Contest
Motif: Spiritual
Maria Paz Samelo
Mother Teresa, I salute thee!
Thou art,a pious soul and
Indeed God's chosen messenger
and harbinger of hope to millions
of suffering downtrodden -
destitute women,orphaned children
Sick men and women and lepers
whom the society hated to see even;
The gentle touch of thine hands
healed their sufferings and gave them
A ray of hope to live and self-assurance;
And indeed you've performed miracles
Which the Pope has recognized, and of
which in your noble life time
You never even spoke or mentioned
And that speak volumes of your humility;
And you lived a glorious life of selfless service
To the uncared for poor and innocent humans
And I look forward to the day
The great church of God bestows
Sainthood on thee so that the world
would soon remember thee as Saint Theresa
God's chosen soul and saint of the twentieth century
I salute thee Mother Teresa!
Her eyes concerned,
Her smile soothing,
Her touch caring,
Her heart kind
Her presence comforting;
Her ambition service,
Her speech, love
Her prayer, peace
Her scripture simplicity and tranquility.
Her hymn shelter, holiness and purity.
Her meditation humility, gaiety and generosity.
Her fruit of silence was prayer,
Her fruit of prayer was faith,
Her fruit of faith was love,
Her fruit of love was service
Her fruit of service was peace.
Countless mothers are there in this world,
But who like her shines like gold?
She was an angel to humanity, a blessing and a boon.
Words are too less to describe a human like her
She was to the poor, sick. downtrodden,
Orphans and destitute a saviour.
Her name will be written in God's book with gold,
Her immortal, spotless soul shall never be old.
Swarms of flies infest teary eyes,
the untouchables have no worth.
And live and die in the gutters,
shunned by society since birth.
The sick occupy the shadows,
where death entombs these castaways.
For faceless crowds take no notice,
how the lowest-caste end their days.
A woman with a giant heart
felt India's poor were in pain.
And brought them medicine and hope
to shelter them from heat and rain.
She found joy in loving the poor
and shared that joy with all she met.
And lectured that these souls of God,
more than prayers, need our time and sweat.
Mother Teresa begged the rich,
let God touch others through you.
And this angel became a Saint,
to those whose dreams she helped come true.
(Quatrain)
2/18/2017
Mother Teresa Ball
Had no hair at all,
Under her wimple
Was one giant pimple.
For Mother Teresa
to see...
the clarity of beauty between the murky folds of life
to see...
the simple truths of living
between the horror and the endless strike
to see...
the innocent smiles of the children at play
while the elder preach hate and division and continue to slay
to see...
the endless yearning for that simpler better place
away from the hollow emptiness of this ostentatious space
to see...
the open vistas of this pale blue dot
the soft reds and fruity greens as this home is all we have got
to see...
the tears of the dispossessed who have been cruelly cast aside
and while we look the other way from their tears we may never hide
to see...
the endless hunger and despair and killing and greed
in the name of God or of ideology or of some or the other creed
to see...
and to see it all
and still stand tall
to hold on to the humanity
that resides deep within us all
may be our only saving grace
and though all of this sounds quaint and saccharine sweet
I need to remember all that I've said
the next time I look into a teary-eyed desolate face
to see...
that being human is simple if we only look beyond ourselves and see
that we are all one, him and her and them and us and you and me...
shroud of haze engulfs
the earth as the news of thy death arrives,
And the slums of Calcutta,
from where you lifted the forsaken for care,
look dispossessed.
In thy death the world has
lost an apostle of compassion
who transcended the barriers of
caste and creed in disseminating love
A universal mother thou art,
whose healing touch mattered
much more than even Medicare,
for medicine heals the wounds of body,
but who shall heal the wounds of heart and soul
without thee, O Mother?
While at the kingdom of Heaven a choir of angels
eagerly awaits the return of the humble daughter.
The humans, still aghast and bereaved,
weep over the irrevocable loss.
A helping hand,
To the emancipated,
To the hated,
To the poor,
To the sick,
To the unfortunates,
To the downtrodden,
To the orphans,
To the widows,
To the disabled,
To the crumbled
To the oppressive and confounded.
The help you rendered,
The comfort and feelings you blended,
The sympathy for the destitute,
The care and concern to the wounded
as healing substitutes.
The honour, the love. the affection, the blessings
that were showered on you,
Are just too less in these words to describe you.
The unpretentious life you led,
The hapless and the hopeless with whom you dealt,
Honest, selfless service was your mission
A countless times I bow down before you, oh mother!
Time’s a jet plane
when you’re young.
You go to school
get a good job
marry someone nice
and have a family
if that’s your calling.
Then the kids grow up
and move out and
things start falling
apart even if you
have a pension and
many now won’t.
Poor health sneaks in
like a submarine
and in time you forget
to take your pills
so the kids find a place
where folks give folks
like you your pills
every day on time.
Then one day you die
and find out if you had
the right goals in life
all those years you tried
so hard to do things right.
Mother Teresa found out.
Donald Trump will too.
Donal Mahoney
I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell
ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc.
anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are
the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of
Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it
collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole.
best regards, tom