Best Motherly Poems
When I was a babe
I was held by a woman
That I surely would eventually Love
So when I looked the face
That was looking at me
I new she was Mom
And always would be.
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
Motherly Instinct
Mother and daughter, 35 and 13.
Public transportation, their carriage pulls in. Mom drops her matches, quickly picking them up. Stepping on the bus, the mom senses the hunt, as wolves seethe and inhale the scent of young prey.
Aging wings are beautiful, yet stretch not far enough
to shelter her young from the burning lasers leering holes through her daughters tan perfect skin.
Mother stares with a purpose, intent to offend. Calling out the most savage of the grinding javelina, spitting fatal venom across the bus at the savages.., her daughter phone-stricken, oblivious...
The bus approaches their stop, the mother
hisses and strikes, She scoops up her young, shielding her from the putrid stench of raw split-hooved perversion.
In her purse a flask of cheap liquor store gin. Casually pouring from her hand to the floor leaving a trail as they step out the door.
The sidewalk is the home of the next match that she lights- inferno ignites the domino game.
Onto the bus the intention made known as their flaming faces melt into clay down into their pants, leaving puddles of burnt tongues and hair on the seats. The mother laughs in revenge, but the dream is cut short.
“ Mom, this is our stop. How can you sleep on the bus?”
They exit the bus, she tries to regroup
“ Mom, you dropped your matches….again”
The way you spend your days with me
Truly make me see
How wonderful you really are
Like a night's shining star
Always knowing to try and do my best
Nothing could better in the world
No one could ever be the same
Or even the melody of your joyous name
As a baby I once played in my mother shoes
I walked in them with my little feet like a skier
I would trip in them and get a bruise
To nurse me, she was always near
My eyes found new interest and my feet grew
As I quit the skiing and found some peers
I slowly freed myself from my mother’s rules
The world closed in, she had her fears
When we forget our cradles, we become fools
We forget a mother’s sweat and her tears
The delusion of power wield by breaking the rules
We forget the hand that led us this far
Now I realise she had tough options to choose
As her sacrifices become clearer
I have learnt to put myself back into my mother shoes
They are hard to fill, just like when I was a toddler
she talks to me - eye to eye
outside church doors
in the cool night air
how lovely this lady
who has children
all her own
Her arms goose bump bare
and my heart strings pull -
i say to her,
“i just want to warm you up”
and she smiles behind her glasses
hair done up in a pony tail
how blessed i am
we hug as friends
much more than that
we complement one another
Boy I can say me and my mom has been through some rough years together and apart, but I have to say at the end of the day; THERE IS NO MOM LIKE MINE... I know she did her best with what she had. That I am now more grateful then ever. I seen my mothers struggles, It groomed me for my days away from her. Unspoken lessons I carried all through it. My Grandmother's embrace always kept my heart warm, I ? her dear, she is my Shero... My Mom my Hero....(R.I.P.) To Janice & Mz Penny , and all the other motherly figures in my life time, I solute you and thank you for every jewel you gave me, they are tucked safe away to share with my seeds. Your strengths, wisdom, and endurance passes on.
“… Progress toward retrogression…”
yes, I questioned diagnosis with mixed emotions
as fear swelled over courage, striving to prevail
yet, faith in God* surmounted my motherly qualms.
Now, our special child in his wheel chair zooms toward progress
singing praises to the Lord in sign language blissfully.
*Mark 11:22 And Jesus answering saith unto them, Have faith in God.
February 20, 2021
edited on June 24, 2021
3rd place, "Bite Size Poem no.9" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier; judged on 7/2/2021.
Motherly Mug
My son’s first love
the break up it was heart breaking
It had come to shove
and no longer for the taking was
My daughter in the making
to me most caring
Feminine not faking
Hindsight - I was overbearing
So keen was I for
this here dating
Considered future mating
Granny in the making
What fool am I
yearning for this thing
How dare I cry
that is not the way a daughter’s true love comes by
Her blonde hair blows in the wind
As she sits on top of Dewdrop Hill
Tears run down her soft damp cheeks
For her mother was recently killed
She lays down beautiful fresh flowers
Then kisses her mothers grave
Tears falling from her bright blue eyes, she stands
She then tells herself she needs to be brave
Her head down low, she looks up
Only to see the perfect angel
Her face seems to light up with joy
She says aloud your very beautiful
Her mother opens her arms for a hug
The little girl runs up without a fight
They hug forever, never letting go
While the mother and daughter reunite
I OPENED A DOOR
IN THE UNIVERSE.
I FIND MYSELF,
SITTING,
ON A GRASSY KNOLL.
UNDER A VERY OLD
AND VERY LARGE
OAK TREE.
THE SKY
WAS A HEAVENLY,
BEAUTIFUL BLUE.
A WARM
GENTLE BREEZE
CARESSED
THE WILD FLOWERS.
STIMULATING
THE MILD FRAGRANCES
TO FROLIC ABOUT.
AS THE GENTLE BREEZE
FLIRTED WITH
AND TICKLED,
THE OAK TREES LEAVES.
SOFT SOUNDS
OF LAUGHTER
COULD BE HEARD.
AS THE SUN
SLOWLY,
POSITIONED ITSELF
DIRECTLY ABOVE
AND MINGLED WITH
THE OAK TREE
AND THE BREEZE.
I COULD FEEL
THE ENERGY
OF THE OAK TREE
GLOW.
I FELT
AS IF THIS
GREAT OLD
OAK TREE
WAS SHARING
WITH ME
ITS THOUGHTS.
OBSERVATION OF LIFE.
LEADS TO THE OBSERVATION
OF SOCIETY.
CURIOSITY OF BEING
LEADS TO THE QUESTIONS.
WHO,
ARE WE?
WHAT,
ARE WE?
WHERE DID WE,
COME FROM?
HOW DID WE,
GET HERE?
WHAT ARE WE,
DOING HERE?
WHERE,
ARE WE,
GOING?
HOW,
ARE WE,
GOING TO GET THERE?
NOT KNOWING WHY,
I LOOK TO THE HEAVENS
AND ASK THE QUESTION.
IF THE UNIVERSE,
IS GROWING,
FASTER,
THAN THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
WHAT ROLE
ARE THE BLACK HOLES
PERFORMING?
IS THE UNIVERSE
A LIVING
BREATHING
ENTITY.?
IS THE EARTH,
A LIVING
BREATHING
EMBRYO
OF THE UNIVERSE.?
WHAT IS OUR CONNECTION
TO THE UNIVERSE.?
AT WHAT POINT
IN TIME
WILL WE,
TRAVEL THROUGH
AND BEYOND
THE BLACK HOLE?
Michael E. Harris
02032021
My second chance
I well know this is my
Second chance with ephemeral life
It's so pricey I would have never known
Until.....I witnessed fear sailing in her deep brown eyes
Saplings of death already down
As my time seemed done
I packed baggage to start my last sojourn
With love and memories linens
Every hour passing in flick of moments
Quickly as my grip on life's rope loosened
The subtle mind's strength was rapidly weakening
Candle of breaths dwindling in turbulent storms
Crimson life's sun fading below gray clouds of eternal sleep
On wings of stress her each seconds solace had a quick escape
As I kept sinking deep in unconscious abyss deep
In drowsiness life's kaleidoscope rewinded it's tangled drapes
Falling from her eyes her teardrops chased each other
Her sunken eyes socket devoid of sleep
Narrated the entire story after fortnight
That I got in my senses
Warm embrace of my Mother
My second chance with life I saw
In her twinkling damp eyes
21/01/2019
The stars shine brightly in the night,
crickets chirp loudly at the sight.
A bush moves slightly, and a cat appears,
for death stalks quietly, with all its fears.
A mouse nibbles hungrily on the corn,
for soon its young will be born.
With one giant leap,
the mouse is dead without a squeak.
The stars still shine up above,
as the cat washes her kittens with motherly love
Tango.
‘I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins.’ - Lauren Eden
**************************************************************
Light
with home rule in my veins
paternal care not vain words
motherly hug a retreat
sisterly smiles like rays of sunshine
the mind free to wander like the breeze
early to rise a routine
offering devotions a sheer joy
the glow of inner light
now illumines my journey of life
goads me to the rightful path
ever keeps me company
as a benign guardian
as I steadily trail my footsteps
during the midday sunshine
in the solemn silence of sunset
alongside solitary moonlit footpaths
and in the darkness of night
when I retreat home
to lay my head back on my pillow
the cuckoo in spring
needs to suss out homely nest
comes with baring gifts...
adoption not an option
a brood parasite in lieu
17/2/2022
Entered a Brian Strand Tanka contest.
The sweet Soul of a mother is the sweet
smell of Love made from the singing
of birds in the sky.
She holds her little one close to her heart;
and when the precious listens to her heartbeat,
it relaxes and is calm.
Night falls; she rocks her innocent back and forth,
as he is in her arms; arms like a big beautiful bow
around a presnt--a presnt that is Life.
Morning comes and through the sweet song of
little blue birds, the lil' babe awakes. It awakes to
the sight of his only hope and love; his Mother.
Motherhood, such a sweet and loving Soul. A sweet Soul
that is forever in her young one's heart that lives
through her at every breathing moment of existence.