Long Mothers day Poems
Long Mothers day Poems. Below are the most popular long Mothers day by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mothers day poems by poem length and keyword.
God gave my mum best of both worlds
Heaven and hell and that's why since she left,
we her kids are confused for we want to go to heaven
But hellish thoughts keep us from flying
That's why I struggle most days
Because I'm still finding a balance of both worlds
Cause I be trying to do good all the time
But in turn the world repays me with the bad
Sometimes I'd seat all alone and wonder,
what if she were here, would I still struggle
Or she'd be fighting some unseen battles for me
Cause she never slept without prayer
And ever since she left its been one storm after another
It feels like our only chain holding both worlds at bay
Broke and is somewhere in heaven
That's why hell is now onto us
God gave my mum best of both worlds
And she made the best out of both
Hopefully we too will find that much needed balance
Cause at the moment it feels like we breaking in between them
The PO£T
My Joy
There is a woman crafted in the furnace of God’s eternal fire,
And for millennia, God has waited for her arrival,
For she was to train two sons who would live for his glory,
And she lived a life of suffering such that she might empathize with their struggles,
And though she made many mistakes,
She has been my truth, my wisdom, and my light,
Often reminding me of realities that I would rather ignore,
She has raged against the rager on my behalf,
And when satan had agripped me, she rose up against him and said, “NO!”
For there was a time when I writhed in darkness,
And only she understood,
With an understanding that stemmed from the cosmos,
From the cosmic tree of life, she fed me fruit,
And I survived,
And I tell you, I see her future,
I see her standing in glory with Mother Mary before her,
And I know Joy,
Her name is Melba Lucas, she is my Divine Light, and it is from her womb that I know my
beginning,
She is my strength when I am weak,
She is my courage, when I might cower,
For she walks in the eternal alpha and omega,
And there will come a time when she no longer walks the earth,
But not until her work is done,
And when that day comes, I will not sorrow, but I will rather rejoice for heaven’s gain,
For in times when clouds would obscure the brightest sun,
She is my Joy.
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY MOM!!!
Early this morning, the song of blackbirds
quell the swell of silence enfolded by night.
Dim light on a distant ridge: the sun returns,
freed from Atlantis, drenched in the cloak of life.
Soft dew-drop showers dapple the dusty
garden with pops of pastels like lavender,
lilac, tea rose and pink, from clouds that carry
cleansing tears of a newborn’s young mother,
the potter protective her infant clay.
She picks up her child, a fragile bowl, chipped,
frail from thirty years spent running away,
now run aground as a twice sunken ship.
Her hands keep a promise, one quietly spoken,
made long ago when morning had broken.
- For my mother who sang me Cat Stevens'
Morning has Broken the day
I was born.
She taught me the Lord's Prayer,
leading me to the knowledge of God.
Very accepting and non-judgmental,
my mother always supported and believed
in me. She never put me down or made me feel
little or less. I never heard her speak ill will of anyone.
One of my mother's greatest gifts was having her
mother come live with us. Like my mother, our
grandmother was indeed a pearl of great price.
And the love from our grandmother was priceless.
Mother did not weep over spilled milk, but would
quickly wipe it up and pour another glass. She knew
how and when to let go and move on. She was very
warm, kind, most encouraging, and mother was very
free to give a compliment when needed.
Daddy passed away when mother was only 35;
and she was left with 11 minor children.
Refusing to have us separated from her,
mother did not accept the kind offers by
relatives to assist her in raising us kids.
Mother refused to have us separate from her.
Under the circumstances, her decision seemed unwise,
but her faith and confidence were strong and genuine.
I am happy and proud of my mother who knew, even
in very difficult times, what was best for her children.
For 49 years, I was blessed with one jewel of a mother.
Our youngest sister is most like my mother in many
ways, and I love to tell her so.
Mothers should be celebrated
Every single day,
But instead it’s once a year –
Well, what is there to say?
You enter into parenthood
And do what you must do.
Quite often, in a family,
The mothers are the glue.
We hold it all together
With a little help from dad;
And wonder, when our kids grow up
What life they’ll think they had.
Psychologists assign us blame.
We must be trauma’s cause;
But hopefully, with age, such thoughts
Will give our children pause.
Perhaps they’ll somehow understand
The depth of how we feel
And recognize a mother’s love
Is bottomless and real.
It’s lovely to receive a card,
Store-bought or made by hand,
‘Cause it acknowledges that sometimes
Things work out as planned.
And, in addition, if you get
To see your kids this day,
Appreciate the fact
Good fortune holds you in its sway.
Mothers’ Day will soon be gone
Yet if you are in luck,
That glue that you set long ago
Will still be strongly stuck.
for PD's Early Mothers' Day Contest
How does it feel to have children?
It feels insanely crazy sometimes, but it also feels blissful.
For five years you do not get to go to the bathroom by yourself.
Because a child is poking fingers under the door and sobbing,
wanting desperately to be with you.
Because you are their world.
You are their hero.
Their rock.
Their safe place.
They are your pride.
Your joy. Your heart.
It feels blissful, joyful, and humble.
Sometimes you think you cannot bear how tired you are,
Then you see their little faces, and you hear them snore
And you know you can wash one more load of clothes.
They can wear you out but they can also bring you up
Fast and hard with giggles no one else has ever heard.
They are your world, and you are theirs.
There is nothing like a child. Two is better. Six, a dream.
How does it feel to have children? It feels complete.
It feels warm. It feels kissable and huggable.
It feels right.
Every year, at the scheduled arrival of March,
Mother Nature became seasonally enraged,
Like a lion, an unjustly imprisoned beast in a cage,
Like a cancer patient walking on stage
For the last time - the last baby is now aged;
Two seasons are about to crush and crash.
Every thing started with the hauling winds
Slapping their huge feathers on my windows,
Mother Nature’s heavily breathing on different rows
Of the trees that refused to be scattered all over like the sands
Of the battered beaches, like the small adoring plants,
Which the deceased grandmothers left on the slants.
Every year, it is the same old thing, the same old rituals,
The school children just love it, since all classes are canceled;
The teachers are understandably elated, because they were told
To stay home as well; the aborted duels
Are bound to take place another day,
Where everyone will fall under a better array.
The last winter storm was really a prelude to spring,
Just like Valentine’s Day was the prelude to Mother’s day;
At dawn, don’t be surprised to hear the cries of a new offspring,
And hundred of little ones performing at the last school play.
Copyright © March 2009, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
She woke up early that morning, opened the window that had a view of a blue sea, just in time for the rising mellow sunrise.
The fresh cool wind blew gently on her face as she drew the white linen curtains to the sides.
A ray of the gold sunrise revealed, an already prepared breakfast on the wooden table.
The wind blew off the candles as the smoke smoldered aimlessly through the room.
The fragrance of flower pots by the window filled the room with the familiar aroma that comes with blooming white roses.
The radio was playing and the birds were singing.
She was humming along and together the melodies sounded like waves of fresh waters by the seashore.
The routine interpreted all its greatness to having a caring and loving Mother;
A Caring, and Loving Morning star.
It has always been a mother’s way
To take care of her kids every day
She’s the first person we see after birth
As we grow old we forget her worth
When COVID-19 spread everywhere
All minds were filled with virus scare
Doctors insisted, “social distancing”
Mother quipped, “I’m not listening”
Can a mother be separated from her child?
She can never construe them to be so defiled
She has nurtured them for months in her womb
Now she will banish the virus with her broom!
That has always been the spirit in her mind
Despite the threats, her love cannot rescind
She is present whenever she is required
There is no pain that cannot be shared
O Mother! I wish all days were your days
I could sing paeans of love in your praise
As we grow old we often move apart
But still keep our presence in your heart
END
for my mother, Christine Ena Burch, and my wife, Elizabeth Harris Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mother’s smile, no softer touch
than mother’s touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than “much.”
So more than “much,” much more than “all.”
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother’s there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.
There never was a stronger back
than father’s back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, then flew.
But, oh, a mother’s tender smile
will leap and follow after you!
Originally published by TALESetc