Long Grow up Poems
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Inspired by the moving storyline in a show. It's not easy when our children grow up to abuse their children. Even when they disappoint us, we still love them.
I loved my son
By Michelle Morris
24/12/2025
When we have children
We are optimistic about their future
We believe in their potential
We believe in their goodness
We pray for their hearts
Their minds, their souls
We pray that they'll be
Good as gold
But that's not always
The way life works
Their journey is their own
Their choices can hurt
I loved my son
Despite what he did
I loved my son
From cradle to grave
Good or bad
He was my son
Good or bad,
I loved him all the same
Good or bad,
I feel his loss in my bones
Good or bad,
My heart is broken; my soul, alone
I love my grandson
He is another son to me
I love my grandson
He is a good man, indeed
Someone I'm proud to know
A man whose choices are gold
He is a hero, a warrior
He is a good father and friend
Life is a lot of loose ends
We don't always get the closure we deserve
We have to smile and accept it
We have to breathe and find peace
When we have children
We assume they'll outlive us
We don't imagine that heartbreak
Attending their funeral; trying to survive it
We pray for their hearts
Their minds, their souls
We pray that they'll be
Good as gold
But when they're gone
Before their time
It's a silent scream
Against the reason and rhymes
They may not be
Who we hoped they were
But it the end, we still love them
Because that deep love endures
© Michelle Morris, 2025
We wanted to grow up as fast as we could
We should have savored it we were misunderstood
Looking back on it seems a moment away
But its gone forever and it was our glory day
It’s gone by quick to our surprise
Yesterday was truly the time of our lives
We held our breath and then we were old
Should have reveled in the present instead of letting the minutes get sold
Now we look forward but its hard to forget
Tell the younger generation to enjoy it so there is no regret
It’s gone by quick to our surprise
Yesterday was truly the time of our lives
We stood there watching as the sands of the glass passed by
We should have given that love one last try
Now all we have is pictures on the wall to see
When what we really wanted was an everlasting memory
It’s gone by quick to our surprise
Yesterday was truly the time of our lives
Mother's Day Tribute
To Mother
Things are complicated, and I’m frustrated
And gag to hear you say with parental authority,
“When you’re older, you’ll understand better!”
Well, that’s a long way into the future, and I’m present here and now,
So spare me the lecture and tell me something important,
Like why am I not pretty like Jilly or smart like Brent?
Why are you always so naïve and treat me like a baby?
Like when I ask questions that don’t sound silly to me.
I have feelings, so quit being mean by talking down to me.
Just because I’m dependent on you for everything,
I will grow up and act more adultish, so give me space
Because I still want to play and pretend with children my age.
I know more than you think, and just because I don’t express myself
Or fret over realistics that are trivialities to me of everyday living,
I’m still a part of this household and not just a piece of furniture.
Love me because I love you, but sometimes you overdo
The love bit too much, which makes me blue
And causes me to say hurtful things that I regret later;
I am a work in progress.
***
Ode to Mother
My mother was dear to me.
She is my guardian angel.
When I dreamed, she always believed;
And when I failed, she was sorely anguished.
The life she bore in labour began,
If not for the love of God,
And came together in her womb.
Then, months later, that baby entered the world.
Whole, a physical specimen,
Completely formed with heart and soul.
A miracle from our Saviour,
Dependent on her for everything;
And by grace, she raised the babe to maturity
To become the person, you see, that is me.
***
Note:
“Mother’s Day” is celebrated on the second Sunday in May. It was created by Anna Jarvis (1864–1948) in 1908, and in 1914, President Woodrow Wilson officially proclaimed Mother’s Day a national U.S. holiday. In Canada, Mother’s Day is not a holiday, but a day of observance.
let us pray unto our loving Lord
this one who's so full of kindness
such a marvelous thing to know
for we're darkened in our blindness
My gracious God father in heaven
penetrate into my intellect so light
take away all that's just ignorance
put there righteous knowledge so bright
Delicately cut open all my emotions
show your loving kindness into my heart
fill it full of my immense gratitude
may it honour you in no small part
Make my faith even as mustard seed
to grow up into a large oak tree
renew me with your full confidence
so my testimony's real for all to see
In my experience make it all so real
have thy loving kindness so dear
so I be delivered completely from all
that would bring upon me any fear
Thank you O my Lord and king
answer this prayer I do humbly bring
for you have shown such love again
to me a sinner redeemed! Glory amen!
(Shew thy marvellous lovingkindness, O thou that savest by thy right hand them which put their trust in thee from those that rise up against them.' Psalm 17: 7(KJV)
'Show it to my intellect and remove my ignorance,
show it to my heart and receive my gratitude,
show it to my faith and renew my confidence,
show it to my experience and deliver me from all my fears'
C.H. Spurgeon - commentary on Psalms 17 v. 7)
“Do you know your ABCs?”
Little kiddies are often asked
Confidently they start singing
A smile you try to mask
“A, B, R, and sometimes X”
They gayly recite the rhyme
You let it be for another day
For another place and time
Sweet, precious little moments
Sometimes get lost in space
They ask “How high's the sky?”
With a chocolate covered face
My favourite is, “When I was born,
Was I brought by a great big bird?”
“No, you came from Mummy's tummy
We thought for sure you'd heard”
The innocence of the little ones
Their wondrous look at the world
They see things oh so simply
As the mysteries begin to unfurl
Oh for those days of childhood
When life was a brand new toy
Our daughter actually asked us once
“Will I grow up to be a boy?”
Christmas is coming, but Santa is grounded?
By masked Covid maniacs,he is brutally, sadly hounded.
The sad, sweet elves, in lockdown
they sit.
Wearing dopey blue masks, having huge crying fits!
Children cannot dream of Santa this year anymore.
Daddy drinks more, and by our
fireplace, loudly just snores.
Surely Covid Maniacs are happily cheering!
As a blue-masked Christmas season is nearing.
No sitting on Santa' s lap, no,not this year!
As for New Years Eve forget all the kissing fun and loving cheer.
Rudolph's pretty, shiny nose goes
dim in his barn.
The Covid Maniacs locked him in,
so he can do us no harm.
Our Christmas dinner will be on FaceTime this year.
You adults can change things but
no, you chose bogus fears?
You think we can learn via Zoom?
You had a childhood once, why can't you give us some room?
We can't grow up normally up under prison conditions.
Stop believing all fake news, and regain sane mental positions!
10/12/2020
Opus# 3
The screaming stopped
At the top of the stairs
Winding down into the darkness below
We the children shivered in fear
As bombs rained down like thunderous clouds
We were told, "you are safe my child"
How can we be safe?
When mother and father walk above?
How can life go on?
When there is no life at all?
The smoke has cleared
We rise like the dead from the dungeons below
Some of us weep in mothers arm
Some of us weep, for we have no mothers at all
We all weep for there is no happiness
Yet the screaming has stopped
I am just a small child
I shake in fear
As I stare at those around me
They seem as me, small and afraid
But I shiver in dark thoughts as I wonder
Who of them
Will grow up
And make the bombs rain yet again
Who of them
Will make us all feel the pain
Why must sins like arrows fly?
Into the child’s heart
So that future generations
Die before birth
I am simply a child
Who asks you, why?
Forgotten Hero
I was awesome;
destined to be rich and famous when I grew up.
Until that happened,
I settled for being a superhero…
And I was!
I was untouchable.
Bulletproof.
So fast you couldn’t even see me,
and faster still in my special shoes…
which was a good thing
because I had underwear on my head.
I was the picture of heroism
posed before the oscillating fan
which billowed my bed-sheet cape
and modulated my voice
to mimic a pre-pubescent Optimus Prime.
With a giftwrap-tube in hand
I was armed for any conflict.
Yet for all my power, I was incorruptible.
My faith was absolute…
in the certainty that
good always triumphs over evil,
and I never intended to lose.
I sought the distressed damsels
because that was the right thing to do…
not for any reward;
certainly not for their cootie-infested
kisses of gratitude.
I was great beyond everything I knew,
universally loved and adored.
I was the greatest hero the world had ever known,
and everyone wanted to be my friend…
…until they didn’t.
Because wearing fruit of the loom helmets
is for weirdoes and losers.
Because children need to stop daydreaming,
and focus on their studies.
Because not everyone can be rich and famous,
and it’s impractical to chase after foolish dreams.
Because there is no such thing as “special shoes.”
Because everything isn’t black-and-white, and
standing for what you believe to be good is intolerant,
and unacceptable.
Because superheroes aren’t real,
girls don't have cooties,
and it was time to grow up.
…and I have.
07/31/15
Forword: Written after a 15 yr. old girl took her own life
at my sons school, no note, nothing to explain her pain.
Just a child from what I hear,
like others was forced to grow up too fast;
Broken hearted rejected and alone,
unable to find one last straw to grasp.
Where were all those caring hearts,
in her desparate time of need;
Not even a close friend nearby,
to listen to her final plea.
Now we all mourn much too late,
for another soul not cherished or adored;
Maybe the gift of our time to save a child,
is something we all could afford.
So we wonder now what God's intentions were,
when this unwanted child came to be;
Perhaps we all had a part to shape her,
into what God could only see.
It takes deep love and committment,
to be humble and serve anothers needs;
It is the reason we were all created,
and why he died for you and me.
I stood tall in front of the head stone.
A bunch of cheap flowers in my hands
Were given to me by my uncle.
I felt all the discomfort of the world.
What was I doing there, staring at a tomb?
I was told my mother was buried there.
I had never seen my mother, I felt no bond.
Evil tongues said she died of an overdose.
Ashamed I never wanted to know of her ever.
Now on my eighteenth birthday
My uncle made me visit her tomb.
So I stood emotionless, just staring.
My uncle told me to mumble a prayer,
To whom? To this supposed mother of mine?
She had died ages ago. Eighteen years?
I did not know nor did I want to know.
She was dead. Let her rest in sacred peace.
After all I wished her no ill will nor anger.
I tossed the flowers on her grave and turned to go.
My uncle stopped me and silently handed me an envelop.
Written on the large missive were just a few words:
“From your mother.” Inside was a letter.
I turned on my uncle, but he was gone.
My first instinct was to throw the envelop away.
Who could say it was from this mother?
But curiosity got the better of me and read:
“Dear daughter, I saw you being born as tears fell
Without control, for I knew I will never
See you grow up and learn what life has in store.
Your father disappeared as soon as I got pregnant.
Giving you birth was painful but worth it.
For you had to live, and I hoped, live to the full.
For me life is now at an end, for my tumour
Will surely kill me, as all doctors said.
They gave me just one solution, that to abort you.
Then they would remove the tumour that will kill me.
But I refused. Why should I kill you?
What wrong had you done to deserve death?
So I preferred to die so you could live.
May God bless you and keep you whole.”
I read the letter twice, faintly unimpressed.
Then I saw there was a photo in the envelop.
A perfect picture of my mother, very much like me.
Then tears fell.
Then I knelt down and prayed.
29 March 2021
Mother - Poetry Contest
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