Best Parenting Poems
mortals raise mortals to adults - divine truth parents souls to full grown
Sticky, grubby fingers,
Chocolate covered faces,
Dirty prints on wallpaper,
Put parents through their paces.
From smelly, messy nappies,
To angelic little smiles,
These are some of the wonders,
Of our parental trials.
There's tears and tantrums,
Fun and giggles too,
Even on the tough days,
When we get covered in poo.
Parenting isn't a hardship,
It's a treasure to behold,
So be kind to your little rascals,
You'll need them when you're old.
Out of the mouths of babes isn’t like it was before.
What they here is worse, than they speak poor.
Words that a young one should never hear.
Innocence than fear.
So please choose your words as kind as can be.
Please don’t hurt the babes, there as sweet as you can see.
Let them grow, learning there is joy all around.
Sweet words of love is an awesome sound.
They are only little for a short time.
Read them story books of rhyme.
Play games, go for a walk.
Listen to them as they talk.
So young, so innocent and when school starts.
Show them confidence with kind hearts.
Let them know how proud you are.
Using words of kindness can help them go far.
Mother Goose and Father Time
All together had children nine.
Love ruled hers,
His were let free.
All wound up productive, happy and fine.
The swings you go through with a child
Are not unlike a coaster wild.
The terror, stark, when they arrive:
“How do I keep this kid alive?”
“What idiot allowed discharge,
And placed with me a care so large?”
When you have lost all hope of sleep,
And dark depression settles deep,
Then you will wonder in despair,
“How long, O Lord, too much to bear!”
But then, when first she smiles at you,
And suddenly dawn’s light breaks through!
Until the day you feed her meats
And gagging, retching, white as sheets,
You’re sorely pressed by toxic waste,
And all that fondness fades, erased
By thoughts you banish from your mind,
“How could I ever been so blind
To think this nasty little brute
Was a delight, a darling, cute?”
But then she talks, she says your name;
You’re launching to the moon again!
This surely is the pinnacle,
Parental heights you’ve scaled in full.
But comes the dark night of the soul;
Your daughter’s now thirteen years old.
Who is this alien life form?
When will your days resemble norm?
The slightest thing; all hell breaks loose:
A train that’s led by its caboose!
Back on the tracks, to wreck again,
Of late, you pray, “Why, God?” and “When,
When will this horrid phase be through?”
Completely unbeknownst to you,
This phase, designed, the needed fuel
To send her, gladly, off to school.
And then you sit, an empty home,
Berate yourself in brooding gloam
As night falls on parental days
And you imagine all the ways
that trouble will befall your child,
How by the world she’ll be defiled
And grieve and want her in your arms
In safe protection from all harm.
And after school, she needs you less
Until it’s time to buy the dress.
For her, elation and much joy!
For you, “And just who is this boy?”
But as you learn, she’s picked a man,
All goes according to the plan,
And you have this to comfort you,
For it is clear he loves her too.
So for a time, you are at peace;
The cycling has much decreased.
And yet, when they have fully grown,
Then suddenly you want them home.
You yearn for time spent with their kids
At intervals the miles forbid.
And if you’re being honest, too,
You’re hoping they’ll take care of you.
But looking back, it’s all a win;
You’d gladly take this ride again.
You’re only a mum,
But that’s all it takes.
To be super human,
You don’t even get breaks.
You’re a cook, A dish washer,
A cleaner, a nurse.
A teacher, a councillor,
A referee, an open purse.
A sports coach, a cheerleader,
The taxi of mum.
At 2am in the morning,
Just a call and you will come.
Party, event organiser,
And holiday planner.
Clothes and food shopper,
Listener, and even fake tanner.
No time for yourself,
No breaks and no wages.
Dealing with toddler tantrums,
And hormonal rages.
You always come last,
and you always feel tired.
You should have a rest,
But it’s not how you’re wired.
A thankless task,
That’s never ever done.
You’re often left feeling,
Where is the fun?
Hot drinks or warm food,
Now rarely cross your lips.
And your underwear
All tattered with holes and rips.
To cap it all off,
you go out to work too.
It’s nothing short of amazing,
Just what you can do.
You are super human!
Admit it you must.
You must be a saint,
For the gut you must bust.
But it all becomes worth it,
When you look at their smiles.
Being a mum has to be
the best job by miles.
You create them
You give birth to them
You nurture them
You raise them
All the while seeking to rearrange them
For you insist on always owning them
Kids are forever
Children are our saviour
Dynasties become prolonged
It is never best to have just one
Mirrors of one’s ambition
Apple of our critical eye
A mini me who is never contrary
A vessel to fill with my life plan
Someone to control till I die
Pride is king
The family name is nirvana
The façade of respectability must never crumble
All and sundry must toe the line
For the world must believe all in this household is fine
Be better
Be all we wish you to be
Attain heights we never grasped
Never let our ambition lapse
Caged and thus unable to be free
Longing for a faraway glimpse of liberty
Dying to show some level of individuality
A life on a road to eventual calamity
Secrets and hopes
Are encased deeply
In a psyche that aches gloomily
Insular and depressed
They contemplate university
They exist from day to day
Awaiting a long list of all they need to say
The dress sense must be perfect
Their manner never abrupt
Everything is done to give the family
A social step up
Grades must be exemplary
A career path must show economic sensibility
Friends must be vetted minutely
Who cares about your sanity
Do it all for our vanity
You can never grow up
We own you for life
Fly the nest and we follow
We are your bothersome shadow
Letting go is hard for us to do
When we made you
It was not only because we wanted you
Our future plans have always revolved around you
Smile and never let the world know
How dismally we have wrecked you
Those that must forever be
The centre of another’s world
Have a big responsibility
They are clones
And will always be second best
The back of the leg was seen as a place
That was suitable for a slap,
For a child who was rude, or out of control,
Or who stood in the kitchen when Mum had been baking,
And who sneakily stole
A freshly-baked, still-warm sausage roll,
Who, on hearing a footstep,
Stuffed it in her mouth – whole,
And received a slap, and a sending to bed,
To think about what she had done.
Now it’s fifty years on, and Mum’s long gone,
And looking back, I guess I deserved that slap,
But who could resist a freshly-baked, still-warm sausage roll?
Speech is an objectification of what you believe,
Not what your parents or other people believe.
He was a simple boy
Everyone told him, made fun of him too.
Called him names and laughed at him.
Mean names.
He thought he was low.
Afraid his kindergarten teacher would find out.
She did not know, and neither did his classmates.
He was well-liked, and always wondered why.
He looked down at his feet most of his life,
Studying his shoes, always thinking about how simple he was
And low, and slow, and not smart in any kind of way.
Not because he was, but because his parents were name-callers.
My kids like myself were instructed on how to wash clothes as soon as they were tall enough to reach into the basin without falling in. Parenting 101 calls this the see-saw or teeter-totter effect, whereby toddlers balance themselves on their bellys, feet dangling acrobatically off the washer machine lip scooping damp clothes onto the floor in order to place the articles in a dryer. Many arguments have been made on whether this helps or hinders a child.
I've watched my kids cry and tell on me to their momma. "Daddy won't let me eat or play or whatever (I told them to do) until I clean my room."
I gotta tell you, it's joy unspeakable! Almost to the point of tears falling on the pavement and forming a puddle kinda joy to know I prepared my kids to the best of my ability to overcome struggle and adversity.
I don't know if it's fair to say, but parents back in the day echoed a "don't depend on me, when you can do it yourself type attitude." I think in some ways nurture went to the wayside and that switch made it to our backside. In our attempt to add hugs and kisses while turning down the discipline, we created kids who are accustomed to having it their way. It's a balancing act. Parents try and find that balance, oftentimes, falling well short of the washer machine lip, praying God will clean up our act.
The joy I have is because her light bill is due but is making it work by candlelight. He's struggling to correct his adolescent mistakes. Hustling like a Martin Luther King speech, everyday puttin in work till his dream is lived in. The youngest is taking night classes in order to graduate on time.
Glory be to God. Message has been received. Don't depend on me, when you can do for you.
For times they fell into the washer machine and scuffed their foreheads, I'm genuinely sorry for that, but parenting is a balancing act.
Love is helping even after you're depleted and right when your about to fall in from grabbing a heavy load, they step in and say "Dad, we got this."
Hallelujah with a double amen!
mama taught me
not to drag my feet
as i walk through the sands of time
a thirsty soul might come looking
and find their way
to the watering hole
~ footprints
***A Parenting Tale***
He must’ve been
Just barely fourteen, but still off as
A ninja filling a pillowcase
with chocolate on Halloween.
Although through all other days
his ken was an avocado green,
That is actually a deep
nubby, buttery green.
The older teens, always girls,
Stood leaning on the fenders of their parent’s cars,
Twirling their lemon curls around
Still child-small index fingers
While foot tapping to some unknown
Time until night cloaked our court.
Then, with a wave of the girl’s arms,
our son collapsed to fit out through
Keyholes or go with the autumn mice
Under the garage door, to slink
From one girl’s car to three, where
Not one pair of pink lips cou answer
me if her parents knew her where?
Hardly a surprise then one night
near ten p.m.,
When authority alarmed, fist-knocking
on our front door. Police?
What is the, aaa, problem, sirs?”
“You’ve a son we’ve gotten word of.
Is he home?” Yes. Well, yes.
Certainly, yes. It’s bedtime…
He comes down, cool from his room to
Join us in the hall, looking face to face,
so sliced-olive green.
The officers, wasted not a second.
“We’ve a warrant for a missing girl,
A friend of yours said you knew.
Have you seen Anna Joe today?” No.
“Have you had company tonight?” No.
“Have friends up there with you?” No.
Then to us, “We’d like to go up to look.”
I was mother-so-proud assuring, “He
doesn’t lie. I’d’ve heard company.”
Within a minute, the parade came down
The stairs: handcuffed girl, officers
with son between them and coming to
Stand by me, supposing it was safe.
I screamed, “You lied! To the police!
To us!” Then, I swung my arm back
And forward again with force from
Knowing how he’d dealt us into danger.
I smacked him hard and loud
in front of the police in that
Scrapbook moment of parenting the idiot
Events of a bean-green teen, which also
ended musical car nights on our
court.
————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 2/6/22
By Stanley Collymore
There’s more to parenting than being a mother
who, whether consciously or accidentally so,
conceives and subsequently delivers into
a world of uncertainty the helpless
infant she’s successfully carried
for its full term, with or minus
the physical presence, moral
or the financial support
of a biological father.
For true parenting primarily embodies
the inculcation of those essential values
which irrevocably prepare that once
fragile child for the robustness of
adulthood; and you Teri, tender
in years as evidently you are
yourself, seem to have
already detected and
truly mastered
that art!
© Stanley V. Collymore
5 January 2013.
Parenting is for everyone when you grow up each day
You have good feelings n bad feelings day by day
You have to know the children everyday
To make sure thinks okay in everyway