Long Maternal Poems

Long Maternal Poems. Below are the most popular long Maternal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maternal poems by poem length and keyword.


Sayonara Mother Thirteen Years Ago Back In Time Tear Drop Deux

devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably, 
     got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press

sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice, 
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did piss 
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss
 
cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored 
dance instructor, who scored 
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured 
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured

from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"

closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead 
did association between 
     kith and kin, unfairly 
     dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit

     de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead, 
where mind over matter, sans power 
     in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst kill last ditch homeopathic screed

ambitions trumped, thus giving up the ghost 
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most 
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians 
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship 
     included with your obituary post.


Mother Earth Day

Within womb universe’s birth
nebulous placenta housed 
seeds of life and white lily
billions of years in future

mid-wifery lady Madonna i.e. Gaia
twill abort... cancel... fail 
cosmic amniotic fluid infinitesimal kernel 
unknowingly intimated mother earth

giver of extant flora and fauna
unleashed post big bang cosmic explosion
galactic matter ala Jackson Pollack 
across void

impregnating fecund celestial field
embryonic entities 
germinating gamut multifarious 
floral fauna spectrum
 
primordial soupy miasma
evolving millennial timeframe
distinct organisms *****sapiens 
master exploiter oblate spheroid
 
usurped emiment domain
epitomized goddess of fertility
silent ovation humanity 
predecessors ovulated

promulgating tentatively robust 
quite pathological population
within clustered cloistered 
substantial redoubts

mollycoddled, nursed  
swaddled by ancestral 
gracias moma mia
abba cud dab bra figures, 
whose maternal role
 
guarded vulnerable progeny,
outfoxing invisible World Wide Web 
building inexorably linked network 
indomitable strength
against wild things 
guaranteeing subsequent generations  
flourishing webbed unbridled success
prompted contemporary bipedal hominid

chance genetic dice throw 
origin of species weathering travails  
horrendous maternal sacrifices
inducing  acknowledgement 
unknown female forebears!

Premium Member Sister Nature

Some folks call her Mother Nature
As they revel in her beauty
Contemplation of her bounties
fuels the maternal mantra.

How could nature be our mother
When we share a common father?
For the One who gave her substance
is the One who gave us being.

We may call her our sister
and adore her stunning beauty
But to call her our mother
is to slight our common father.

When we ignore our Creator
We will choose for Him a proxy
be it nature or another
Man will worship God or Other.  

Nature cannot be our mother, 
for she did not create humans.
God placed humans over nature
Our servant, she is meant to be.

If you’re looking for your mother
Look up to God, your Creator
For He gave your sister substance
and He bore you for His glory.

Bedeviled By Fatigue

Assumption begot,
     that cumulative generations
     bred tiredness weariness zap
ping ability to remain awake,

     nope even enough energy
     to feign opening maw mouth
     evincing a yap,
and if equipped

     with smartphone app viz whatsapp
would shear lee ask ewe
     if Androids dream of electric sheep,
     but limited options,

     asper talking via two lipped gap
reduce modes to communicate
     keeping shut tight denture
     "FAKE" toothed trap

affixed to gums by (James) bonding agent
     necessitating manual finagling -
     careful NOT to snap
dentures, thus

     leaving garbled speaking
     where gum shunned rattletrap
disallowing articulation,
     enunciation and pronunciation,

     making worthy words
     sound like discombobulated pap
hoping to convey tiredness affliction,
     sans this poe whim, whereby i map

imagining yielding curling (catlike)
    upon ample sized maternal lap
whether gentile,
     or Jewish princess i.e. Jap

pan knees, which above
     quasi Semitic iteration hap
puns tubby what occurred to me
     for no particular rhyme or reason

     hoping ya ponied mental effort
     to breeze thru my sad dulled verse
     with neigh saying horsesense to giddyap
whereupon woebegone

     sleepiness could perk me up -
     if ye could purchase far me a large frap
pa chin oh otherwise
     fate twill point this chap
to Google search how to buck up vitality
     vis a visa deer lee sought app.
Form: Imagism

Premium Member My Six Relatives

MY SIX RELATIVES
                                      
       My six relatives
       Some act positive.
        Some go negative.

        Great maternal uncle of mine
        Respectful, sincere, fine>
        In my sky, as Sun to shine.

         Though paternal uncle crooked,
         selfish, envious, wicked
         collected many hatreds.

         Older cousin sister don’t know to be rude
         always sending blessings in plenitude
          shows me the mirror of my childhood.

         One cousin brother behaves as villain
         Vindictive, sadist, mischievous, insane,
         But all his attempts to harm me went in vain.
 
         My maternal aunt was of jealous type rather.
         Always sought pleasure to hit and hurt other.
        I kept distance all along, didn’t bother.
 
         My paternal aunt was my closest aunt.
         So many affectionate moments to grant
         by my luck to enjoy and enchant.
   

  11/17/20


   "Six Relatives'   Contest by Caren Crutsinger
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member A Historic Event

Mystery of a life born from another,
cry of the baby and death of the mother,
amidst war, military tent in the wild,
during the royal birth of her fourteenth child.
little pink princess wailed for maternal milk,
blue and cold lay the queen, blood dripping from silk!
her warrior husband king had conquered the north,
diamonds and wealth, his victories brought forth,
would richen his kingdom like never before,
but loss of beloved wife made his heart sore,
he held his sweet infant by his dead dear wife,
his battle scars hurt but much less than his life,
victorious yet he dropped to knees and wept,
most beautiful she, he loved, forever slept,
from the dark burning cinders of his lost love,
his passion, undying zeal with treasure trove,
he built a marble tomb to bear her remains,
on shores of silver river from godly domains,
river that holds a mirror to marble stones,
even the bright full moon her absence bemoans,
myriad stars spread on a canvass of black,
perhaps witnessed thir romance now wish her back,
five centuries have passed since that fateful day,
beauty, elegance of tomb pave an ethereal way,
whisper to lovers who watch with disbelief,
that true love can defeat death, conquer grief!
on love pilgrimage bare feet at Taj Mahal,
marble tomb is now a temple of love ~ for all!


History of the event in brief
Queen Mumtaz died giving birth to a girl child, on 17th June 1631. Shajahan, the king and she were so much in love, she stayed with him even during the war.
She died in a tent from haemorrhage during delivery.
The King commissioned the Taj Mahal made of pure Marble stones on the shores of river Yamuna!
Silhouetted against the blue sky, Taj mahal stands to this day as a monument to Love! 
It was completed in 1653, but soon after the king was imprisoned by his own son and died lonely in a small cell. His body was then smuggled out by his loyal followers and buried next to his beloved queen in Taj mahal!

Written 18/09/2020
2nd placement
History of an Event contest
sponsor William Kekaula
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Gift of Life 2

maternal instincts
miraculously unique
precious gift of life


NOTE: According to fellow PoetrySoup member, Charles Henderson, "Haiku is a serious poem in that it is a true mental picture projected by one or more of the five natural senses.  It is considered Objective when written as though the writer were outside of the poem looking in. All the words are self explanatory, in the sense they are words which elicit a reaction in one or more of the reader's five senses, see, hear, touch, taste, smell. The reader has no other obligation in the poem. Only to read it and have one or more of those responses."

My original was revised with his help to make Lines 1 and 2 connect easier and to make poem objective. Haiku has 3 lines and 2 statements. I kept the 5-7-5 syllable count because I prefer that. I cannot thank Charles enough for his lessons and help.
Form: Haiku

A Sad Story Told From a Battlefield

He didn’t have a native land, 
therefore, he had no reminiscences of any sort,
neither good nor ill, other than reckless killing 
at the battlefield where he was compulsorily taken into 
and deployed to fight unwanted fight: the legend of warmhearted provisions provided in the name of el Cid Rodrigo Diaz De Vival
to the foes is only the beautified story of Castile.

The Faithfulness that even risks own life for fidelity is
though lonely one’s heart’s desire, he knew not the friendship
for he lived the life without a friend other than ghastly cry of tottering, collapsed, crawling and mutilated bodies of neither to call the enemies’ nor friends’: the beautiful friendship that of Pythias and Daimon is
the drifting clouds above the Sicily, it is the fancy of dearest wish,
the concocted tales that to honor the tyrant of Syracuse.

He didn’t have a home; therefore, he doesn’t know what is the love,
other than the deep wound of maternal love he saw at the battlefield;
the grief that of an old woman who was holding her slain son in her arms 
with absent-minded, who was washing the blood off
from the slaughtered son’s face with tears: it is the horrifying myth 
of Persephone who can only able to have a stillborn child.
It is the dark shadow of the daughter of Demeter who goes back and forth 
along the other side of Styx counting days till spring is to come.


He didn’t have wife, therefore, he lived his life without knowing 
what is the intimate love, other than touch of a foreign woman
who sales long kept chastity for a loaf of bread in the gathering darkness; 
who weeps alone in the ruin at the roadside where 
the cannonade booms to deafen the air: it is the shadow of the curse 
on Oedipus who though able to solve the riddle of Sphinx
able not to flee from the irony of life. It is the damnation on the king of Thebes, who roams in the darkness led by two tender aged daughters.
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Baby: Peerless Gift of God

BABY: PEERLESS GIFT OF GOD.

                     Love for child is universal.
                   Baby is the greatest gift of God.
                   Nicest goes parental bond,
                tied just like petal and sepal.

                           Of joyous moments met throughout
                            received the happiest charm,
                            to take my first baby in arm.
                            There’s left absolute no doubt.

         Might be my maternal instinct
          Excessive intensive too strong,
          giving my kids priority all along,
           considered them special distinct.
        
                         Blessing to expectant parent
                         Parents to show light to child.
                         Child should turn parent’s pride.
                        Honor the gift of god to be sent.   
                   
 07/18/18
                   HM
  'STRAND CHOICE D'  Contest by Brian Strand
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Two hands on a Steering Wheel ???

Some months ago my cousin offered me a pipe
that my paternal grandfather used, when he desired a smoke
It stirred up a memory that had potential to be serious 
but after sixty years I relate to it as a joke

My maternal grandfather , very slow and steady
that's how he chose to drive
But paternal grandpa!! he was seventy eight, I was seventeen,
one solitary trip with him, I wondered if we would survive

We hit the open road, accelerator hit the floor
one hundred and twenty five kilometres per hour, the only speed he knew
Left hand on the steering wheel, right hand on ,and clenched between his teeth,
his beloved smoking pipe,  that was how we almost flew

Straight open road, semi trailer ahead
Grandfather decided it was safe!!!! to overtake
There's another semi trailer approaching,!!!  It's on the other side!!! We're caught between the two!!! still with hand upon his pipe, other on the steering wheel, side to side we wobbled, I began to shake

Back on the left side of the road (we're Aussie ) we have overtaken the semi trailer!!!!
Grandfather still has pipe clenched between his jaw
He looks at me quite calm[y states "I thought that other semi was going the other way ",
accelerator still flattened to floor
My very nervous thoughts, about this episode, I pray there won't be more
  
To my cousin I replied, the offer of that old smoking pipe, it is declined,
perhaps it is a bong
I appreciate your offer but I don't need a material possession, in my memory it's deeply etched
nothing personal, please don;t get me wrong


Footnote: Semi are also known as Prime movers . Guess we were nearly prime moved into heaven
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace