Long Great mother Poems
Long Great mother Poems. Below are the most popular long Great mother by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Great mother poems by poem length and keyword.
The Sun shines bright on our planet in despair
Wrapped in rags called turmoil, worn beyond repair
A battle tearing the soul from great Mother Earth
It’s inhabitants at odds to prove status and worth
Hemorrhage must stop and wounds to heal
Scabbing over again then scratched to reveal
That mankind is not worthy to manage such place
Only capable of abusing and leaving much trace
Of a thoughtless generation lining pockets with greed
A legacy for those younger to analyse and heed
A new set of rules that must not repeat
Past history written with a story of defeat
The World is still bleeding and how will it stop?
Sweetest love of best care
comes from Mother dearest
greeting with morning glow
midst prayer that’s fervent
for the Lord’s blessing flow.
Sweetest love of best care
is exposed along grace
by Mother’s cheerful ray
as her embrace so warm
wraps my soul every day.
Sweetest love of best care
exudes tender mercy
oozing from Mother’s heart
while nursing woe and pain
smiting grief to depart.
Sweetest love of best care
marked by peace and kindness
props my triumphant drive
as great Mother* lives on
with legacy to thrive.
*2 Kings 4:30 - And the mother of the child said, As the LORD liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee. And he arose, and followed her.
February 28, 2024
1st place, "Mamma" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 3/10/2024
(An Abenaki Legend)
Prologue...
After the reptile people had been devoured by fire, ice and flood, Kloskurbeh the ever creating Spirit, sighed, and thought about the worlds he had made across the multiverse, how his breathe had brought life to so many beings. Layers and layers of reality seeded into existence, but many had failed to hear his voice and in the end they had withered.
Legend...
One day in the Dawn Land
a boy came walking.
Many times the boy passed through me
without seeing
eventually I placed a question into his heart.
The boy explained to himself
that he had been born
when the foam and spume
of the sea were heated by the sun.
The next dawn, a girl appeared -
she explained
that she had come from the earth,
a green plant had bore her as fruit.
Time passed, the Dawn children
found each other and rushed to
be together, many morning babes where born,
and by the works of their hands and minds
they thrived.
Then hard times came (as they always must).
Famine came, meat was hard to find.
The mother could no longer feed her children
and she despaired.
I saw all this,
I prayed to Sophia the Great Womb Mother -
for yes even I am created from woman
and all souls are thus female.
I knew also that Nature once seeded, must not be
altered by any good intentions.
The woman ran to the river
wanting to drown her sorrows, the waters rose,
almost submerged she cried out
to whom she knew not what.
Then as her tears flowed, between her legs
green shoots came forth, she felt them, then wadded
back to the river bank to see.
Looking upon this miracle the woman had a vision.
She returned to her mate, and demanded that he
kill her and plant her bones in two piles.
Horrified he objected, but she explained her vision to him.
She insisted, so it was done.
For forty moons her partner stood over her bones
and sorrowed much.
Then one morning the piles sprouted plants.
one was maize the other root tubers.
The Great Mother had seeded Her ‘Will be Done’
upon the soul of the earth.
To this day children are fed by the Earth Mother
and the dark womb of Sophia
where all light and nourishment emanates.
The Algonquin people (after a good catch),
still bury a fish in the fields to honor, I Kloskurbeh
and my Great Mother.
When I was born in 1971, she was a great mother right from the start.
Mom was a warm and caring person because she had a good heart.
Her heart was as big as the East Coast.
Her death really hurt me because we were so close.
I didn't know what I had until I saw that it was something that the Lord would be taking.
When Mom died, there was no power on Earth that could stop my heart from breaking.
She was a caring Christian who helped others.
Mom's heart was what made her a great mother.
She was devoted to God, she read the entire Bible twice.
When I say that she loved the Lord, I am being precise.
It was very painful to say goodbye when Mom's life came to an end.
When somebody came into her life, they always became her friend.
[Dedicated to Agnes Greene-Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013.]
It’s cold winter nights like this that I miss you the most,
When you would keep me so warm underneath the covers.
You would lie at the foot of the bed and lick my toes.
The love I felt for you, I’ve not felt for another.
Our walks on the beach were the best times for me.
You were always there to protect me from strangers.
With you in the house, I never had to worry.
You were my angel, warning me of any danger.
I’m thankful for the times that we got to spend together.
You were a wonderful companion, so loyal and kind.
I have no doubt that you would have been a great mother.
I will keep your watch over your pups; I hope you don’t mind.
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drum beat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“‘Wana Hin Gle,”’ my Mother calls proudly,
“your horse is now ready, your shield fixed with bone
“Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
“’Wana Hin Gle,’ you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo are all captive, starvation allowed
“Your eyes look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
“As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must wait for your horse to come out of the lake
“Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
“Your vision must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
“You must leave us now, but leave us in darkness,
for when you return, a new vision will burn bright
“You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, if the demon still preys
“If it does, you must kill it, for this time and always,
it has hovered above us keeping spirits away
“The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
“You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
“‘Wana Hin Gle,’” my son; the time is for going,
your vision awaits, past-futures on hold
“The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
“The Hand that Rocks the Cradle is the Hand That Rules the World”
by William Ross Wallace
Oh! Woman
Aren’t you God’s supreme handiwork?
An animated form of chiseled art
A joy to behold
A figure of curvaceous ups and downs
God’s beautiful calligraphy
You are love incarnate
Your eyes reflecting warmth and gentleness
Smoothening the rough edges of life
A loving daughter to your parents
An adorable mate to your man
A forgiving mother to all
The procreating womb of mankind
The forger of destiny
One who turns barren terrains,
Into blooming verdant meadows
The fountain spring of life
In every drop of adversity,
Glistening like a diamond
With a divine spark that lies dormant
In broad daylight, but beams and blazes
In the dark hours of adversity
Though you are fickle and frail in many eyes
You’re strong enough to withstand all the shocks
And delicate enough to bend and bow
Sweet enough to draw everyone to your charm
Tough enough to bear extra burden
You have a heart very deep
To hold gallons of liquid love
And a mind patient enough
To forbear all rebukes
You are blessed with a temperament
Willing to forgive and forget
You are warm enough
To kiss away all tears
You bear the seeds of progeny
You are the powerhouse of strength and healer of woes
With the magic talisman to cure the bleeding hearts
You are the great MOTHER to all
Sister, friend, mate and guide- all rolled into one
April.3.2022
~ Placed First~
Tribute to Women Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Beata Augustin
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drumbeat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“‘Wana Hin Gle,”’ my Mother calls proudly,
your horse is now waiting, your shield fixed with bone
“Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
“’Wana Hin Gle,’ you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo ravaged, starvation cries loud
“Your eyes to look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
“As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must call for your horse to come out of the lake
“Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
“Your spirit must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
“The hawk comes to guide you, as you pass through the darkness,
the drums of your fathers beat into the night
“You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, where the demon still hides
“Where it lives, you must kill it, for this time and always,
before it steals our last dream, keeping spirits alive
“The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
“You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
“‘Wana Hin Gle,’” my son; the time is for going,
your journey awaits, past-futures on hold
“The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: February, 2011)
From My Novel: “Searching For Crazy Horse”
The Dressmaker
A woman with overflowing kindness, patience and vigor
All- in-one: a dressmaker, sewer and a tailor
Devoted herself unselfishly to her family and neighbors
Her endurance and sacrifices are up to the core
A woman of household light, a very good wife
Her divided attention and care was sometimes our knife
A great mother and granny denouncing our strife
You’re brothers and sisters-her kind words are rife
A woman who seemingly doesn’t know how to rest
On siesta hours, late at night…still stitching at her best
Sewing draperies, garments, repairing them the least
She’s a great dressmaker and mom who’ll not turn down a request.
Copyright2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
April 5, 2016 4.10pm
‘Wana Hin Gle’ the Lakota call me,
‘Wana Hin Gle’ my given name
‘He Who Happens Now,’ the drum beat has found me,
reaching into this moment beyond glory and fame
As ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my spirit has wandered,
as ‘Wana Hin Gle,’ my ancestors call
The questions dissolve, as The Great Mystery beckons,
the campfire eternal, the chanting enthralls
“‘Wana Hin Gle,”’ my Mother calls proudly,
“Your horse is now waiting, your shield fixed with bone
“Off into the prairie you must ride in the twilight,
the People will dance until their son returns home
“’Wana Hin Gle,’ you must now happen quickly,
the buffalo ravaged, starvation cries loud
“Your eyes to look upon the great Wakan Tanka,
whose absence has shamed us, who once were so proud
“As the great Tasunka Witko who traveled before you,
you must call for your horse to come out of the lake
“Great Mother River and Great Mountain Father,
to your will they entrust what The People forsake
“Your spirit must suffer, the babies still cry,
the cold through the tent flaps, all future in blight
“The hawk comes to guide you, as you pass through the darkness,
the drums of your fathers beat into the night
“You will ride to the top of the ‘Pass Of The Bears,’
ask the Grizzly, our brother, where the demon still hides
“Where it lives, you must kill it, for this time and always,
before it steals our last dream, keeping spirits alive
“The White Horse will take you from the lake to the mountain,
and the stallion will sprout wings with its hooves fiery hot
“You will trample this demon and burn him before you,
the smoke will then signal of what he is not
“‘Wana Hin Gle,’” my son; the time is for going,
your journey awaits, past-futures on hold
“The Medicine Woman is locked deep inside you,
your People die waiting—the young and the old”
(Pine Ridge South Dakota: February, 2011)
From My Novel: “Searching For Crazy Horse”