Her Care Poems | Examples
These Her Care poems are examples of Care poems about Her. These are the best examples of Care Her poems written by international poets.
Orange slices in a plastic baggie
44 oz of a slushie daily
Short hair that never changed
butt cheeks hanging over the seat
We had nothing in common
yet Her's was the first Christmas card every year
She was married
no children
She'd look at me like I was speaking another language
when I spoke
She farted once
and looked at me like I did it
Her name was Sandra
but went by Sandy
Never saw her in a dress or dressed up
It was always comfort clothes
She had cancer
then it went away
I don't remember asking her about it
About how she's doing
I never thought I'd miss her
but I do.
My friend is sad and so am I
For different reasons I ask Him, ‘why?’
He looks at me neither bold nor blue.
A light glows pink in merry hue.
She called me up and poured her mind
I felt the same, of a different kind.
When spirit’s measure stretched at length
I woke up to find, I’ve lost all strength.
She has been trying to dry out her tears
While I here, myself was driving my fears.
No one to share my feelings drawn
I gathered strength to fill her morn.
With laughter and light she retired to bed
I worked the night, was awake instead.
Today it was told it’s not required
I had my share of the pain I shared.
Then reasoned out ‘was it all meant
To surrender my wisdom or my strength?’.
He looked at me and waited long-------
Till I blew my breath of scorn
Was that how You cleaned my eyes?
Was it healthy for the spirit to rise?
My friend’s laughter at the end of the call
Made me realize once and for all
My hard work somewhere has paid me well
I have reasons for love to dwell.
Love for Him came naturally, through,
I looked at Him and felt so blue-----
He could have gone but He never did.
He had to show me my greatest need.
Each dawn arrives with thrills forever new,
Each sunset brings delight beyond compare.
Allow the good Lord to comfort you,
Like a mother comforting the child in her care.
Let us enjoy the best seasons of our lives,
Let His everlasting arms cradle tight.
With trustful hearts, where hope and peace revive,
The dear Lord’s arms surround us day and night.
To guard, to comfort, and to lift our soul,
Let us live joyfully, cast burdens down.
Upon the Lord, who makes the weary whole,
In Him alone, our rest and peace are found.
Both day and night, He has promised to give full care,
In Him we live and move, forevermore.
Dear Therapist
She illustrates human wisdom, her ability
to understand predicaments befittingly.
Wisdom is her name, She is balanced like
the scales both intellectual, perception.
Her name is Sophia.
It’s 25° C clear
but she’s gone.
The outlines of her shadow, hoping
that they’ll have a chance of putting them into use
in the fashion world.
She wears a black, backless dress
with a plunging front.
The soft contours of her breasts are revealed
through the mirrors on the walls.
On the front page a gazette
her cat walk
rushing down to the battle.
Here, you’re making the neighbours squirm.
Here, you’re making their claymores shriek their hatred.
That’s why your body sags against the bar in fatigue.
You’re trying to remember your voice.
Remember, your phone rings again.
It’s a voice you’ve heard,
that incandescent panic spread through the hall.
They’re marrying her.
They’re scarifying her for their day’s events.
You’ve made me interested in how she’s thinking
& you can’t control this with your beard.
Your gaffe is all there.
You gaze with gratitude.
She loved her child through rivers and mountains,
copied sutras with trembling hands,
offered them at dawn, noon, dusk, and night—
each tear a stream flowing in silence.
She loved her child across endless miles,
chanting through tears like mountain rain.
The wind carried her voice to distant woods,
cold rain soaking into her soul.
Then Mother became mist, fading in midday sun.
Then Mother became fragrance, drifting through dreams.
Then Mother became cloud, white hair at heaven’s edge.
Then Mother became sunlight, a shadow behind the hill.
At midnight, I turn in a distant town,
reading the last line of her sutra.
Her words overflow with longing—
transcribing the Buddha’s teaching across the river.
O love! A forest of white hair
flies back to cover birth and death.
A bird cries from the farthest sky—
I lift my head, and hear the sound of the Unborn.
--- By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
A delicate dance, a subtle sway,
Expectations woven, in a societal way.
A woman waits, with passive gaze,
For a man to lead, with financial ways.
He pays the bill, the ring, the wedding fee,
The provider role, a lifelong decree.
She expects support, for herself and her kin,
A one-way street, where love may give in.
But some women defy, these norms so grand,
Contributing equally, hand in hand.
A true test of love, a gesture so fine,
When she invests, with a loving design.
Yet, in the courts, a different tale unfolds,
Assets divided, with a legal hold.
A woman shaped, by societal might,
To contribute little, in the dark of night.
A partner, not a burden, we must seek,
Emotionally and financially, a bond unique.
Let's break the mold, and redefine love's role,
A mutual journey, with a balanced soul.
Here lies Zenani among the first rains.
May her spring, thoughts and hands enrich our brains.
June 15, 2010
(Zoleka Mandela's daughter, Zenani died at the age of 13, in a car accident in 2010. Zenani died two days after her birthday, in a car accident, while on her way home from the World Cup concert in Soweto.)
(Deceased March 17, 2010)
Here lies Sondra Ball whose shadow too long;
May a passerby see and sing her song.
She came tonight, a whisper soft,
As I lay reading, lost in thought.
Her warmth curled close, a phantom grace,
And time dissolved in her embrace.
The book fell silent in my hand,
Her breath was there, I swear I felt.
A tear broke free, then came the flood—
A river born of love and guilt.
Three decades gone, yet still she stays,
A shadow dancing through my days.
She left because they locked me in,
For sins I never did commit.
She couldn’t bear the bars between,
The silence stretched too far, too wide.
She chose the stars, the final flight—
And left me here to ache and write.
I never let her fade from view,
Her name still trembles on my lips.
I love her still, I always will,
Through every crack my heart equips.
Why, Baby, why? We’d still be whole,
If fate had not betrayed our soul.
But maybe love defies the grave—
And finds a way to still be brave.
So let the spectral glow remain,
A light that cuts through loss and pain.
She’s still with me, in dreams, in breath—
Love outlives even death.
I love the silence between words, because when I’m talking to her,
every time she stutters, my heartbeat waits for her words to make me alive again.
Every time she looks at me, I think that maybe she’s the one.
Every time I confess my love for her, her silence between the words makes me feel important.
Was she the one, or was I just overthinking?
Those silences between the words could make me impatient,
but when she’s silent, I get to look at her tender face, her mesmerizing eyes.
That’s the time when she’s not trying to fit into the class, or trying to be someone else.
That’s the time she is what I like — she was not like us.
That’s why I loved the silence between the words — because I never got an answer from it.
When I was a boy,
I was snarky and coy,
I learnt the lessons,
when the bullies
beat the heck out of me
and too right as this
was my personality
and this little prick
was being such a dick.
Living so vividly
being taught a lesson,
I still smoked in the boy's
of the toilets
and got caught.
The teacher waited,
until I inhaled the last
as I knew it made no difference.
I was going to cop a suspension
again.....anyway.
My mother's claws were a hawk's
when she got home,
and I tried so gently,
to break down the truth
but its no incidence
She delivered deliverance....
I had already locked the back door,
but she still scratched the
hell out of my face,
like an involuntary impatient,
I hate the fact,
as she was healthy
I was still the death
of her.......
before her illnesses.
I don't know of why my anarchy
I never obey rules of monastery
Its just that I always lived,
and I am now drowning
as I'm trying to breathe,
I remember the starfishes
upon collection of beaches,
My Auntie's a pianist
but my memorial
Especially my Uncle,
pulled coins from my ears.
2 dollar coins
worth 10 dollars
today.
You tell me many times…
I am beautiful!
Your words take me to cloud nine,
In exhilaration, I sail, I float, I glide!
Do I believe you, or not?
Because beauty lies in the
Eyes of the beholder!
The world may not agree with you,
But you are firm in your belief.
My parents thought that
Their girl was the prettiest,
My kindest friends considered me gorgeous!
But I knew in my heart,
Beauty lies within,
In kindness, in love, in grace.
In courage, in bravery, in dedication!
Beauty lies in a mother’s boundless love for her baby,
A father’s unlimited affection for his children,
Beauty lies in a teacher’s care for her students,
Beauty lies in admiring and portraying bountiful nature.
Faith in our saviour,
Our prayers, full of devotion,
Every little child is magically blessed
Every little child is heavenly angelic!
Something old, and ancient
something abandoned, and rusty,
All are priceless when we value the sentiments attached to the object.
Baby we're still young
Vibrant and promising
I promise you
Together we can grow strong
Before we get old
We can correct our wrongs
So let the bond be strong, holding onto each no matter the circumstances.
Let's stay locked in
Together we'll build
Our own empire
I am the king and you are the queen
Ruling our kingdom without any opposition.
Baby I want to invest
My all in you
My time, money and more
Never want to see you stressing
Steadily needing your permission to act
I just need your submission
I pledge my loyalty to you, even though I'm royal.
You said I never tried enough,
But I thought showing up was love.
I held your hand through quiet storms,
But never knew how deep they cut.
You wanted words —
I gave you time.
You wanted truth —
I gave you signs.
You asked for more than I could name,
And all I gave felt just… the same.
I saw your tears, I heard your cries,
But all I did was memorize
The way your anger masked your ache —
I thought, “She’s mad. I’ll give her space.”
I didn’t read between your lines.
I thought we’d heal with passing time.
But silence grew where warmth had been,
And now I hear you… in your pen.
The book you wrote — it speaks of me.
A ghost of what I tried to be.
You say I vanished, broke your heart…
But darling, I was torn apart.
I wasn’t right, I wasn’t kind —
But I was scared and misaligned.
And when you said you'd tell them all,
I built a wall. I let us fall.
You called it love. I called it pain.
Two hearts that broke beneath the strain.
We both were right in our own way —
But I regret I walked away.