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.
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!!!
Remembering Mother on Mother's Day
When I was growing up,
I remembered
The time my parents
Bought me a brand-new pair
Of rubber-soled, hi-top,
Black canvas running shoes.
To say I was as proud as a peacock
When I donned the footwear
Was an understatement.
My dad encouraged me
To run (as fast as my legs could carry me)
With those sneakers on
My feet all laced up.
Down the lane
I ran as fast as I could go
And tripped over my own two feet.
I could hear my dad laughing
As I tried my very best
Not to cry (skinned shins and all).
Then, I saw my mother
Running toward me.
Into her arms, she swept up my head
And bent over
To quickly kiss both of my knees.
“There,” she said, “the hurt is gone away.”
The pain was still there,
But I felt guilty and said I felt better.
My dad, still laughing, watched,
And I felt ashamed of my clumsiness
And of loving my mother’s coddling.
After an arduous day of play
And eating everything
My mother set on my plate,
She or my dad would read me to sleep,
And in dreams I would live fantasies.
But there were times
When nightmares awakened me,
Scaring me half to death,
And I would lie trembling in my PJs
With the blankets pulled over my head.
How my mother ever knew remained a mystery,
But she would be there,
Sitting on the edge of the bed
With her hand softly caressing my forehead,
Whispering loving words to reassure
And comfort me and lull me back to sleep.
WIFE’S DAY
Will guys still be flocking
down to the supermarket
with gloved hands and a mask
hair astrew, wild eyes
the surprise that it’s wife’s day
I mean mother’s day today
Will he shake the box of Russel Stovers
longing to pinch
each lady, find the filling inside?
Will he flutter through the leftover
cards, find one amusing
or overly mushy
or singsongy?
Will his glazed over eyes
dart back and forth
in front of the flower case
a fresh dozen...one’s wilted
will she notice?
Will one with perfectly white teeth
grab two steaks and a bottle of bouquet
bless the barbeque
and grab a superlicious cake?
Or will covid-19 excuse the display
of affection, confuse the confectionary confection,
throw petals to the wind, take a bite
out of mother’s day sails?
As for me I received a simple gift, a coffee cup.
Simple and attractive, my love for coffee
noticed, my love for God —
the saying says it all.
Don’t buy me off
Offer a loving cup
He did!
5/10/2020
Jacqueline, my mother . . .
always with a smile and a twinkle,
with happiness, joyfulness and blissfulness.
Born poor, poverty-stricken, moneyless, penniless,
she left shantytown far behind, the slum that was home;
fell in love, married young and was with child so very young,
her sadness was buried deep, she held it within her broken heart.
Jacqueline, my mother . . .
We took great pleasure in summer adventures,
mother always said she had a great sense of direction;
but mostly we were lost, gone astray and hopelessly adrift,
so stumbling upon a quaint country town was usually the result.
Jacqueline, my mother . . .
Her family was her joy and mother was her job,
we loved mom, mommy, mama who was so kind to us;
so caring, warm, tender, gentle, devoted, protecting her kids,
and she taught us to be adventurous and not be afraid to get lost.
Jacqueline, my mother . . .
always with a smile and a twinkle,
with happiness, joyfulness and blissfulness.
________________________________
May 10, 2015
Poetry/Verse/Jacqueline, My Mother
Copyright Protected, ID 05-671-837-10
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Tell Us About Your Mom,
sponsor, Judy Konos, Judged 2015
First Place
Brother for sale.
I'll deliver him too.
I can send in the mail,
Wrapped in yellow or blue.
He's water potty-trained now,
But that can change in a day.
He'll be bundled with Oreos,
So he can eat on the way.
I can mail him by truck, car, or plane.
He's coming with stuff, his favorite toy train.
He's coming character-recommended, highly by me.
He's a pretty good brother, who is almost three.
We need him back when you get him trained.
We simply cannot seem to get through to his little brain.
That when he has to poop, hiding is no good.
Please train him to use the potty with solids, if you could.
Then send him back, to his crazy, loving home.
And this shall be the end of this tiny poem.
It’s simple as simple can be.
With a loving heart, a tender dream,
She welcomed me into this world,
Promising to give me a love that I will always need…
Love that is kind.
Love that is wise.
Love that abides throughout all time.
Love that is mine because I’m her child.
It’s simple as simple can be.
With love that surpasses my hopes,
Love that whispers life and sings of joy,
Love that stirs in me… a light that shines…
She gave me her blessing, her gentle thoughts,
Her warmth and her kindness,
Her promise – always inviting me…
To hear what love spoke, throughout my life…
She told me about grace, about faith and peace,
Assured me the way,…
Through shadows and shame,
Was ever brought to life by the love who came to bring…
Salvation from a cross,
Saving all who are lost,
Restoring faith and hope,
Abiding in hearts who believe…
It’s simple as simple can be.
With a loving heart, a sincerity and surety,
She held me her hand throughout childhood,
Then, held my heart throughout all my life…
Thanks to my mother,
There is a complete assurance…
That love comes to life on the inside…
Of the heart who is blessed to confess…
God’s Son – He is best felt…
By those who’ve accepted His gift,
Salvation from all sin, the shame that dejects,
The pain that reflects our hearts neglects…
It’s simple as simple can be,
She was given to souls who need…
To see this love of God – in action,
This is the kind of love that God wants us to show…
To everyone we meet, even strangers on the street…
This is the kind of love that God taught us to believe,
When He sent us His Son, - to save us from one…
Who would like to destroy the faith that made a way…
Through the darkest place…
He came out of the grave, to finally say….
Love is alive and well,
It saves our souls from hell
So we can forever dwell… in heaven, with the One…
Who gave us a mother and a love,
Far more beautiful than we would have known,
If we’d never known the One…
Who taught us love is grown in those,
Who believe in God’s Son!
It’s simple as can be… just believe!
God’s LOVE is free!
Time and essence shouldn't make anyone
forget the memory of a dear one,
would love be unforgettable
and profoundly thoughtful
to each mourning soul:
if it only gave its joy while living?
Do ineradicable memories fade
when the one we cherish is gone
and we don't carry inside that happy feeling?
Years have passed more swiftly than seasons,
the Easter Redbuds have finally bloomed today,
and their lively color delight everybody's senses;
they see me staring at them to praise their beauty!
It's early May, it's a dreary day
and awfully chilly, but mom's smile
is always gleeful, serene, warm, and very bright;
and although she's no longer alive:
I honor her tender and sweet memory...
even in the darkest moments that deny their light!
Let these flowing tears born out of sorrow...
fall as the morning dew falls from sunflowers;
this pain is still deep, and turning into a shallow:
I reach above and my grieving suddenly vanishes!
I’ve said this a thousand times and still I can never say it enough. Being a mother is the hardest and most thankless job there is and yet they do it for free. In my mother’s eyes, “the needs of the family would always outweigh the needs of the one.” After all the bills were paid, the groceries bought and safely stored away in their larders, you might see her in the store, eyeing that new dress, or new pair of shoes or whatever items that she would have liked to have. She would even go so far as to pick it up, turn it over in her hands and possibly even put it in her cart. But by the time she left the store, it would still be sitting on the shelf. Because, in her words she could get by with what she had. Besides, one of the kids might need something between now and next payday. I think that most mothers are pretty much the same. This is why we have a special day set aside just for them. So pick up the phone, give them a call. They don’t want fancy presents or flowers. They just want you to tell them you love them. Trust me one day you’ll wake up and realize that there’s no phones in heaven.
A simple phone call
maybe a hug and a kiss—
Gives moms all they want
A mother by heart, a woman by mind
A dual nature she presents
She is glad to be a mother
But who cares to bother?
That she is also a woman
She also works at home and at work
She wonders her time of peace
Perhaps it was because she never felt
A bit of rest
And a bit of appreciation is what she needs
When you are sick
She is there by your side
A knight in a shinning armor
She cooks like a chef
She sings like a bird
Her melody feels the room
Ringing in your ears
She looks upon herself
Thinking if she is enough
If she is the perfect mother
But her mind seems to beckon her
This mother's day
Let us show our appreciation
And acknowledgement towards her work
After all a mother is a mother
Perfect or not
The perfect healer
O dear mother, you have left me, on one of those deep and dark winter nights. When the chilling wind from the northern frozen waste came by the window of
your heart and violently shook it, O dear mother, you left me, stepping on the pile of shattered stars and waning moon
By that same window, I, your daughter is kneeling and praying,
and in this moment of tranquility, and in this moment of darkness,
your care from above stands as tears in your eyes and turns into
the descending starlight and comes to me, who prays with
folding hands while looking up you in the heaven
I am walking by the lake where the poor woman’s enmity
once waved high, I am walking a path by your mind’s lake
where the lapse of time calmed the surging waves,
hence the water is quiet as it can be
For the sound of gentle waves is the lullaby once you sang to me
I, your daughter is, under the soft moonbeam, floating lightly
on the water in the sweet dream where I roam
O dear mother, wet with early morning’s dew,
you are praying for your daughter. And, I, your daughter,
present a nosegay of white carnation on your folded knees, and sob