Maternal Poems

Dewfresh Morn

Pain holds its insistence
pressed against me
I dream of a misty
selfless new morn
soft as maternal skin
easing me free
with a true smile to greet
a sweet day born!

The One Within

There is a silent visitor inside you now —

softer than fresh-baked bread,
more precious than gifts from wise men of the East.
A second heartbeat,
gently echoing beneath your own.

You carry more than a name.
You carry memories yet to be made,
a mirror of past souls,
a vessel for tomorrow’s joy.

So walk gently,
eat wisely,
rest fully.

That bottle of cider —
it whispers

Robin

Maternal builders
Patiently gather debris
Fragile wombs of blue

maternal mermaid

life ~ a marine carousel of soul-cracks
 an odyssey of thorns and memories,
               a reverie 
                     of regrets and roses.
and I

Maternal Instincts

The crow dived in one full swop
A chick to be picked for lunch for her chick's
So the mother hen in a daring response 
fluttered her wings to meet the crow in mid air
To redeem her chick's
This is maternal instincts in foreplay

  Writen 3rd March, 2025

Poem and Child

A poet gives birth to a poem,
Just as a mother gives birth to a child.
The child looks after its mother
When it becomes grown;
So, does a poem take care of its poet,
When it becomes well-known.

my mother and a mom

a little girl smiled at me today as i walked home,
she held hands with her mother,
and offered a small wave.
when i waved back, 
i saw the mother stare at her daughter,
her pride and joy,
just watching her exist because that was enough.

i turn a corner and see my house,
i am so lucky to have one.
but god,
how

Misplaced Maternal Instinct, Part II

...And I suppose therein lies the rub,
since society as a whole
is not like mother and child,
it does not fit into such roles.
To grow feelings are sometimes hurt,
in fact they are guaranteed to,
and half the time the push-and-pull
is what generates something new.
And often the failure in those we see
who claim they’re ‘victims’ and ‘oppressed,’
tells others what

Misplaced Maternal Instinct, Part I

I head an interesting thought
on the state of the world today,
about the wokeness, the PC,
and why we’re degrading this way,
That tied it to something that we
often celebrate quite a lot,
that would be maternal instinct,
the kind that most women have got,
that’s why we’re seeing such softness,
such growing degeneracy,
is that they’re placing this instinct
on the whole of

What Love begets

The mother loved him before she met him. 
On days when her love posed a threat 
She gambled with her health 
And cradled him against her breast,  
And clenched her teeth  
to preserve the gift her love begets.
She supposed that with this seed 
Her soul could soar free,  
And he- her gentle

Maternal love

He felt the void from early on,
and knew innately the loss
of something beyond touch.

A life of bad choices,
and failed relationships, 
still left him searching.

He witnessed it in others,
friends and family,
the relationship, bond and love.

In the Fall of his life,
he identified the piece missing
and hoped it was not too late.

Within Her Maternal Enfoldment: a Niece's Homage

Though not by choice, you became my kin,
Our joy not constant, yet our bond within.
I'm inspired by your every move,
In your presence, cherished moments prove.

I strive to earn your pride and respect,
Yet at times, I stumble and deflect.
Still, you offer guidance and support,
Amidst my life's challenges, you escort.

If only I possessed your humor's grace,
If only

Maternal Instinct Poetric

Every female in the nest,
  feeds and protects
her creation, her puppies

For Those Before

I’ve had the example
Of women I love,
Being strong and outspoken
When push comes to shove. 

Generations before me
Gave me so much
My looks and hair colour
Tenacity and such. 

I was taught by the greatest, 
Who in term was taught, 
By the greatest to her mind
Her mother of course. 

Sister, mum, grandma
All different yet then
They have been my

Heavenly Dipped Maternal Hands of Infinitely Divine Reassurance

walking alone with my memories and a tearstained heart
watching the water and thinking about Her
there is nobody here and the chill and the quiet is a perfect combination
the makeshift Christmas tree on the sand makes me laugh for short spell
wishes and regrets then creep up on me and steal me again
i am on spaghetti legs

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