Long Motherchild Poems
Long Motherchild Poems. Below are the most popular long Motherchild by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Motherchild poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was a small child I caught
every germ that came my way.
It is because of Mama’s nursing
that I lived to write about it.
I succumbed to every illness
in which I came in contact.
One of my older brothers caught the dreaded
Scarlet Fever and then one after one
we all became ill. There were seven of us.
We were quarantined for seven weeks.
Before one child was better another was sick
and all the time Mama was caring for us
with no outside help.
She did it all with love
and a lot of common sense
in this day before antibiotics and
other magic drugs.
Mother took her skills into the homes
of her neighbors when the mothers
were laid low.
Two neighbor women sickened
when the flu was running wild.
My mama went to nurse them
and stayed there. Daddy kept
care of us.
She was devastated when the women
after she had nursed them back to semi-health
arose too soon to assume their accustomed duties,
relapsed and died.
Of course she wasn’t paid a cent.
She though it was her duty to
help neighbors in their time of need.
There was only one doctor in
the sparsely settled community and
he couldn’t be everywhere.
Mama was especially happy
when she had a child to care for.
We had a bell beside our bed.
She would come at the first ring.
Mama insisted that we stay
right there in our sick bed
if we had the slightest fever and
she kept us there one more day
after the fever was gone, just to be sure.
She was remembering her good friends
who had risen too soon.
I had pneumonia at six months
and again at nine years.
The doctor had no medicine to cure it.
It was that mom of mine who spent
day and night giving me the
best care she knew.
I remember mustard plasters.
She put them on strong and hot to pull
the fluid from my lungs.
And then when I was better
she brought Jello to my bedside
and spooned in the liquidy,
delicious treat.
There was no refrigeration on
our farm at the time and the
gelatin could not set and hold
properly. But I still remember its
cool goodness.
When we were sick it seemed,
our mom loved us most of all.
I am her child again...
I'm wearing my pink flannel pajamas, the ones with tiny roses.
I'm curled up in the middle of her big four-poster.
And watching her dress for the party.
She has just fastened the clasp of her gleaming white pearls
It isn't often that she has an occasion to wear her pretty lace dress
The dress that shows off her porcelain white shoulders
The most exciting thing my parents usually do..
is to go to the movies.
Watching Errol Flynn, as he swash buckles his men through the Sherwood forest.
But tonight is special! They are dressing up!
And she looks so beautiful!
She has pink cheeks, and red lips, and her hair is shining in auburn curls.
Oh! How different, how wonderful, my mother looks tonight!
When only an hour ago, she was standing at the kitchen sink,
wearing that threadbare apron
Tonight she looks like one of those Hollywood ladies
that grace the cover of her Photoplay magazines!
She's slipping on her high heeled shoes,
then she reaches for her White Shoulders perfume.
"Here, darling girl", as she reaches over to me
and puts a dab under each of my ears.
She kisses my forehead, and says
"Be good for Grandma".....
"See you in the morning. Love you Sweetheart. Sweet dreams".
She tucks me in, turns off the light...
and I am her child again,
safe, and warm, and filled with the knowledge that I am loved
drifting away on a cloud of White Shoulders.......
Oh...to be loved like that just one more time....
of being wrapped in the fragrance of her love
Oh... if only for a moment I could be her child again.....
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
("White Shoulders" was my mother's favorite scent to wear...
I tried to love her.
I so was anxious to love her.
A child can endure such abuse.
I have finally broken the noose.
She was unto a monster;
But a child’s eyes are naïve—
Even the bitterness of abuse seems
Sweet in the eyes of a youngster.
O’ how a child yearns for affection—
Only to be mistreated unto dejection.
A child can easily become infected—
Ruined and wretched by adolescence.
I tried to love her.
I was so anxious to love her.
A child can endure such abuse.
I have finally broken the noose.
My eyes water as I introspect.
Within me are splinters I must disinfect.
I have prayed to breathe—
I have prayed to break free of her disease.
I have finally broken the noose;
But it is difficult to completely break loose.
Agonizing remnants pierce the heart—
As I ponder of abuse, my poetic art.
If not for abuse, would I be art?
If not for abuse, would I possess this spark?
Should I despise mother?
Am I not a poet?
O’ how a child yearns for affection—
Only to be mistreated unto dejection.
A child can easily be infected—
Ruined and wretched by adolescence.
I cry for mother. My eyes ache for mother.
I want so much to love for mother. I am
Confused, a reborn child abused. But I
Love Mother, she is my poetic dam.
Naive
Form:
‘Ma’ the delightful word for every child,
Bears no words to express its significance,
You’re current’s flash and tomorrow’s gift,
Life is incomplete without thee.
A child of six months,
Verbalize the first word ‘Ma’,
The time he sleeps in your lap,
He relaxes, the world is secured.
You’re the first essence of being.
There to guide and tolerate every mistake,
You’re the one after supernatural being,
Always protect child from perils.
You’re only who never bothered about,
The risks and bridges of life
You have the potential to face death,
But even a scratch of child may kill thee.
Why don't you care about your diet?
At the time of shortage of food,
Why you always sleep without having meals?
Although provides enough to your young ones.
No time, we find you becoming stressed,
Manage every thing in a calm manner.
You’re friend, teacher and chef.
Always equipped to support indeed.
From you, the human race begins.
Till the last gulp of air,
We promise, give thee respect.
To repay love, care and fondness,
Every soil confers your smell,
Shows how great you are
Without thee, we are no one.
Grant a huge salute to ‘Ma’.
Dedicated to every mother
Oh dear Child
Dear Child of Mine
What did I do to deserve thee
What did I do to make you mine?
I look at you in amazement
As you sleep upon my breast
I love you oh so dearly
You are my good, my better, my best.
Sleeping oh so quietly
You have the face of an angel without wings
A peacefulness and a quality
An aura of heaven, not of earth.
Your golden hair frames your childish face
Your lips hold the hint of a smile
Your tiny hands lie clasp in prayer
An innocent gesture not meant to beguile.
I love you more than life itself
Oh ancient child of mine.
I know that you were meant to be
You were meant to be so fine.
Finer than the best of my china
That sits upon the shelf
Finer than all of my jewelry
That I use to adorn myself.
You are my greatest creation
More than anything I could have imagined
I love you more than all the virtues given
I love you more than life itself.
Copyright Christine A Kysely November 30, 2010
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Here I stand
With no shoulder to cry on
Staring into empty space
At an unrecognizable face
After feeling so much
Why do I feel nothing now
All I tried to do was laugh and play
Tried to love and please
Did everything I could
So much more than was asked
And yet, I failed
Now I see you walking away
While here I stand
With no shoulder to cry on
I hear your footsteps and fading voice
The screams and the anger still attached
What was it I did so wrong
To make you feel so much
Why do I feel nothing now
And can’t even reach out to touch
I no longer feel my breath
I no longer feel my heart
I was just a child
As I watch you walk away
Why do I feel nothing now
Why are we both left
With no shoulder to cry on
NOTE*** Death should never be seen through the eyes of a child as you walk away… Child
Abuse… let’s stop it! Not tomorrow, not today, but now!!!
It's hard for a Mother,To Let go
When She's stuck in between,
Doesn't know or Realize
That her Child Grew.. In Size
They're no longer a child or a teen,
But a Young adult... Past Sixteen
When they're getting on their own,
No matter how long, They may roam,
She's always Up waiting
For them to come home
When they're there,She shows.. She Cares
She's Happy.. Full of Hugs and Kisses
Because she knows that some day,
They won't be home to stay
When They are Grown,
With a Family of their own,
They'll come to Realize,
What their Mother went through,
Because they'll be doing it too
When Their Children are Grown
Form: