Best Motherwork Poems
"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
a phrase that's often heard.
There's a lot of truth that's hidden,
just in those few words.
She has to cook and clean the house
and get her youngsters off to school.
She does the laundry and the shopping
and teaches kids the "Golden Rule".
She drives them to the movies
and attends their school events.
She satisfies her husbands needs,
her life is real intense!
She asks for little in return,
she just does what must be done.
She feels it's all the woman's job,
and sometimes, it's even fun!
So kudos to those women.
Let's stand and give a toast.
They accomplish all these many tasks,
for the folks that they love most.
Next time the phrase is uttered,
"A Woman's Work Is Never Done",
pray that God will bless them all,
each and every one!
Many thanks to all you ladies.
God bless each and everyone of you.
Once you become a mother
You feel you need to be with the child
Always taking care of its needs
Even while at work your entire mind
Is gnawed at with the thought of your child
When you reach home the first thing
You do is run up to the child pick it up
And shower all those feelings you wanted to share
Women basically I feel work mechanically
Rather than going to the level that
That is her life and she should work for a living
The mother in her always begs to differ
Does not want to prove anything anywhere
The tussle between the ego and image
Is on forever as it never gets any recluse from this position
I being a singer had to be away in the evenings
Loved singing and would be singing a lullaby
Praying it reaches my little one to put her to sleep….sunkan
Mom, mom, dearest mom, what can I say?
You work and work all day!!
How come the days and nights pass and you still have in mind?
Sweet, pretty,patient, lovable, and definitely kind!
You are a character that lungs to be one of my models,
A person who loves, admires, and cuddles.
In my days, I will pray and pray,
For you always to have a good day.
Hope you enjoyed my poem, THANYOU ...
Life doesn't stop, we all carry on,
Riding along the flow of the day.
Before the dawn, You wake, your day has already begun.
There are children to hustle about the house, lets not forget some breakfast.
The television tells you, it's the most important meal of the day, but you really haven't the time this morning, 'sorry'.
Ahhh, the kids are at school, time for your self for just five minutes.
But wait there's work to go to first. So off You go. And as it's only up the road you walk. But you walk fast because
your favorite band are playing in your ears.
Great. Your all hot and bothered. Just enough time to powder your nose and such. Work is busy and mostly you like
busy, it makes the day go faster and soon you can go home. What was that noise? You ask yourself .Then you
realize it was your stomach telling you off for not eating breakfast....
Not to worry it'll soon be time for lunch. But this is the time when, the first thing you do when you get home is raid
the fridge, because it takes too long to make a sandwich when your this hungry. Mmmmm, much better, and most
refreshing, especially the coffee. Just as you take in the peace of the house and have taken off your shoes, you
notice the clock chimes three! Time to collect the lovely brood from school, so off You go.
Who can get a word in first about their day, everyone's so eager to tell one another. Even you, You need to say too.
It's so nice to walk through the front door for the last time today, there's dinner to make before settling down, have
a hug and watch television. All three fall asleep on you, and you're asleep with them too. Few! What a busy day, and
just think you'll do it all again tomorrow.
As I leave work this Friday night,
my mind is still in over-drive.
Momentum from my busy day
keeps spinning mixed ideas and plans.
But just now I face a heavy task
involving choices to be made:
my mother moves tomorrow morning
to smaller quarters nearer me.
That means choices must be made
about possessions dear to her but
will not fit in her smaller place.
We must sort out, pare down and cull.
We go to work with pad and pencil:
this coat has not been worn in years,
this table won’t begin to fit ...
The kids might want this china set.
I speed along to make the list
but suddenly I am aware
my mother moves at a slower pace
and I have left her far behind.
She wants to talk about the friend
who gave to her this faded scarf,
about the family meals she served
here on this old oaken tabletop.
While I am urging her to choose,
she tells me the stories of her life.
She wants to have a slower farewell
to all these pieces of her life.
At last, I come to realize
I must shift down to a lower gear
to give her time to say good-bye
to these fragments of her yesteryears.