Long Lifemother Poems
Long Lifemother Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifemother by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifemother poems by poem length and keyword.
He went to school
but didnt follow the rules
Didnt do what his mother told him to
so everyone called him rude
before he could get expelled
he dropped out
because he knew he failed
couldn't get a job
he could barely spell
so now he is in and out of jail
on the corner selling rocks
stashin money in his socks
on the door his enemy knocks
he fell to the floor
because he'd been shot
couldn't bring back those precious years
couldn't see his reflection in the mirror
his mother couldn't fight back her tears
her only son dying that was her fear
his short life flashed through his head
when he realized how much he'd bled
a few tears he had to shed
for the careless life that he had led
he shreeked out,I dont want to die
his voice got faint, then he started to cry
i promise i'll change', I wont even lie
i wont drink and I wont get high
his mother screamed, please let him live
he didnt know he's just a kid
has she holler's to her son, this cant be it
the ET workers start to rush in
they ran him out on the stretcher
blood still drained from his fracture
the time he had to live, was hard to measure
now he remembers all the lectures
he closed his eyes as they tried to revive him
but they knew he was dead
the loud noise of urgency, turned to silence
and no more was said
THINK about your DESICIONS today
because you might not make it to tomorrow!!!
Form:
I must speak words of purpose, for the truth costs more than gold, but cheaper to produce than Chinese paper
flowers, lies breed insecurities in my soul that I cannot bear, why should I weigh myself down? Lies are like
anchors are to ships in bad weather, why anchor yourself in violent waters? , When you can sail through the
storm in hopes that you will see another day, If you anchor yourself, your boat shall be destroyed and
eventually without a miracle so shall you.
“Find your purpose” said mother, “Find the truth” said father, but where do I start? Father is gone, and mother
is far, who do I turn to now? All that I can possibly do is open the vault in the back of my mind and count my
riches, for now I realize that my blessings lived in my youth, all the lessons, the tears, the scars, they were
my guide into adulthood, mother always said “you’ll see”, father always said “you’ll do”, father never got to
see what I did, and mother still reminds me.
With such unbalance one would think they are geared to always fail, but failure is the product of lies, for when
I failed, I have told myself that I couldn’t do it, and that is an absolute lie!
Form:
The backyard finally shines with green and blue
Julie stresses and storms through the shafting Saturday light
Ella cries over the tossing of her mother's old trophies
She wants them though they're not hers to have
I am standing amid a circuitry of thick taut ropes
With duck tape across my mouth
I am told this is not my drama
Though I must watch and keep above the waves
In silence, in shadows, and if I dare speak
a serpent's tongue will lash out at my good intentions
My rotten timing, my ghostly presence
How do you express the "there, there?"
In what fantasy world, can I send both mother and daughter to their rooms?
Until they learn to speak nicely to each other?
When do I get to shout some sweet nonsense?
After all, my hands are still free
The duck tape isn't permanent
I can shatter this quiet agreement
I can be the psychologist-lover-father-figure
Though I can also sit outside in the backyard
Where the colors shine blue and green for the first time in months
And wait for it all to pass over, to be better.
With what wiser minds do we treat such roller coasters?
The lilacs have come and gone, so brief was their time,
fragile flowers like some, who seldom linger long,
their purple prominence a pantomime of our springtime.
Full heart-shaped clusters pump perfume so sublime
a gift from heaven, mother nature can't prolong,
the lilac has come and gone, so brief was their time.
Harvest home to birthing butterflies in sunny climes
brought low by the battering rain of May’s swan song,
their purple prominence a pantomime of our springtime.
Unmated, virginal, a merry gift, most sacred in its prime
a rust red blight upon the cloth, a crown of thorns once gone,
the lilacs have come and gone so brief was their time.
Let shoots reform and hollowed make a flute to pass time
to cheer our mother merry and sooth the wearied throng,
their purple prominence a pantomime of our springtime
Like they, we spring forth, summer, fall and wintertime
may our seed justly arise in the beauty of heart song,
The lilacs have come and gone so brief was their time,
their purple prominence a pantomime of our springtime
MOTHERS ARE AUTHORITY FIGURES
CORRECTING THE SAP WITH LOVE TAPS
I HONOR THE MOTHER IN YOU FOR GIVING
ME THE ROD OF CORRECTION TO BRING FORTH THE GOOD
MOMMIES IS A TERM OF ENDEARMENTMOMMIES GIVE KISSES
AND HUGS FOR POSITIVE REENFORCEMENT ENCOURAGING
HER CHILDREN TO STAND NO MATTER WHAT THE CIRCUMSTANCE
IN LIFE PRESENTS I HONOR THE LOVILESS OF A MOMMIE
MOMS ARE CROSS BETWEEN A MOTHER AND MOMMIE
WHICH EQUALS A MOTHERMOM A MOTHERMOM SHE TEACHES SHE
PREACHES, SHE REACHES, AND MAINTAINS CONSISTENCY
IN THE HOME WITH LOVE ENERGY
SHE’S THE SUNSHINE OF POSITIVITY I HONOR THE MOTHERMOM
IN YOU FOR ALL YOU DO
MA IS THE RING LEADER CONDUCTING THE SHOW
MA IS THE INDIVIDUAL THAT LEADS BY EXAMPLEENSURING THAT HER SEEDS
ARE MENTALLY SOUND AND WELL ROUNDED SPIRITUALLY AND NATURALLY
I HONOR THE MA IN YOU BECAUSE YOU HELD ME ACCOUNTABLE FOR
ALL MY ACTIONS I APPRECIATE THE MOTHER THE MOMMIE
THE MOM AND THE MA
IN THE ONE OF YOU………
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY
As death creeps out of the darkness,
A mother becomes the rope in a (Tug of war.)
A child reaches to help its’ mother in her weakness,
And stares death in the eye with abhor.
The rope falls limp in sure defeat,
Yet the child pulls on the strength of heart.
Against the evilness and deceit,
Fighting with the will to not be apart.
The hooks of death on weary knees,
Shackling the arms, exposing vulnerability.
Screaming and crying the words of “please”
The mother rests with peace and tranquility.
A child left to battle life’s groans,
Preparing for the encounter and all its’ lour.
For one day she will meet Mr. Bones,
And she’ll be the rope in her child’s (Tug of war.)
__________________________________________________________
Inspired by Brian’s Picture Poem’s Contest
Käthe Kollwitz, Death and the Woman (Tod und Frau), lithograph, 1910.
http://www.mmoca.org/mmocacollects/artwork_page.php?id=31
BUT TEARS ONLY FOR MY GRAND MA
I was born the day and date I cannot remember like many;
I was leisurely growing watching my little sisters
scratching heads, wiping tears of poverty!
Coconut oil was scarce; brother’s knickers were sparse
My mother too bore silently the smoke in her eyes twice daily,
In front of the husk stove daily;
with her mother (our lovely grandma) together,
Worship their family Doctor Baba Goush Baba
For the cure of my mother’s Leucoderma;
well over 3 yrs; walking well over 3 km
Day after Day;
Faith finally paid; curse finally parted
A walk together with mother and mother with affection
Sharing poverty and poverty in succession
Crying sobriety in progression;
Hapless future with six kids on hand;
Her mom on back; her hubby in barrack
Finally
A life is lead
Up to this Summit of opulence
With my Mom and Dad happily
But Tears
only for my Grand Maa!
© Krishna Baalu2010
krishna Baalu
Around the old man’s sick bed
Arranged in the dining room
His amber bottles of pills were spread
And the mother a loving wife was playing
Serving herself iced vodka and tea
There she shed her cold crystal tears
For all the neighbors to see
You could feel a storm brewing
As the young sons thundered their rage
While their father’s skin turn papery thin
Their mother took center stage
Even the pill bottles were rattling
In the gathering forces of guilt and blame
Who loved him the most, used him the least
And who should feel the most shame
The air was damp with silent weeping
And grief clung to the walls around him
His wife’s hidden bottles and family lies
Made up his fifty years of martyrdom
It was in the clear light of morning
He lay still in a kind of peace
For he had now left the bedlam behind
His face sunken and calm, the pain had ceased
For the family’s drama--a new beginning
I know that when you are young your supposed to want to cling to your parents
but when I was young all I wanted to do was be independent.
I didn't want to hold my mother's hands. I'd pull them away everytime she tried.
Whether is was to cross the street or simply be mother and daughter togther.
I didn't let her. Access was denied.
It's funny because now that I'm 21, All I want to do is reach out for my mother's
hands but I'm grown now.
So I don't get hugged anymore.
I don't get the offer to hold her hands anymore.
This time I would take it eagerly.
Because I now know life doesn't give many second chances.
My mother loves me of course. She shows it in other ways now.
I crave that physical touch more than anything else...
I get excited off of HUGS, AND Weak knees off of KISSES.
And SEX to me is two passionate souls diving into
each others bodies and colliding.
Trying to bring life back ~
Back, into a deadoned Soul....
D.O.A., I heard the doctor say
Deaf, dumb and blind?!
Their mother cried, their mother replied
From their birth; welcome to this earth....
Said the nurse, as she smiled
What a beautiful child; eyes black as night
Eyes without sight!?
A tiny heart beating, beating
But so very cold....
This tiny child, with a deadoned Soul ~
D.O.A., I heard the doctor say
Stand clear, two thousand years
A prophecy foretold; a prophecy unfolds?!
Trying to bring life, back
Into a world so cold....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I heard the Doctor say, stand clear ~
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