I carried so many wounds since childhood -
all along, as my Mom behaved so rude.
Being deprived of Mom’s care - affection,
my childhood turned a curse: Shame to mention!
School happened to close on recess one day.
I went to a friend’s house to enjoy and play.
Engrossed, I was not alert on time gap
I reached home too late. Mom gave me a slap.
Normal reception , but on next moment,
She burst in tears which I did not expect.
She wept and wept ‘Where had you been my child?
I was so scared to lose you, where to find?’
That big slap turned nicest scar in my heart,
though my mother always left me apart.
I realised, behind her strong bitter harshness
Motherly love somewhere flowing ceaseless .
Sometimes I feel
as if my soul hung by a slender thread
of my mother’s raven-black hair.
I remember…
her breasts beneath a floral blouse,
secretly reading the forbidden novel, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame,
with a flashlight under the blanket,
and the worn figurine of a Japanese geisha
father used to stroke from time to time.
Even in old age, I like to curl up in bed,
as I did in the womb before birth.
And wearing my mother’s stretched-out violet sweater,
I never feel lonely.
Mother's love is always running Nonparallel
Surely Normal Natural Human Instinct.
No Controversy at all, Quite Distinct.
Continuous Fluent Flow ! Unidirectional !
The greatest bliss of my life to glitter and shine
is children, while raising up and caring them.
My Family tree to grow , Me being Stem.
The siblings are just branches in between.
In their childhood, I was the light to show way.
Being grown up they turned my success after all.
Siblings prosper and to impress each and all.
The strong branches are cheerful, joyous, to sway.
I'm a good boy, gone bad.
It's pretty sad.
I'd ruther
you didn't tell mother.
Flowers to tea
Just my mama and me
Spending the day together
Making wonderful memories.
The glow from the lamps
Cast shadows on the wall
As evening creeps in
And the moon rises tall.
Little hands learning
Under mama's watchful eye
With Patience and understanding
She gives a proud sigh.
Oh little one
You have so much to learn
But mama's here beside you
With every step and every turn.
(Written for an animation reel)
The date of your death was a day I'll always hate.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned 78.
When you became ill, you went under the knife.
A surgeon amputated your leg to try to save your life.
He also operated on your stomach and it was enough to cause fear.
You couldn't be saved and it's so sad because you're no longer here.
When you died, it was upsetting because your demise was so unfair.
Happy Birthday, Mom, you're in Heaven and I'm glad you're up there.
[Dedicated to Agnes Greene-Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013]
My dad was a meat and potatoes man
Stuff like quiche, wine and cheese he couldn’t stand
Mom once served him Chinese
Dad said, “Mom, if you please
Dump that lo mein in a foreign trash can”
Bedtime Battle
My momma said,
“It’s time for bed,”
but I’m not
sleepy yet.
I shook my head
as if to say,
“I’m not
even ready.”
In my defense,
I wasn’t really tired.
“Put your PJs on,
go brush your teeth.
It’s time to go to sleep.”
I thought of
a quick rebuttal:
“If I slumber now,
I’ll wake up much,
much too early.”
It only took
a single look
at Mother’s tired face
to know I must comply—
Mom was both judge and jury.
Her verdict:
off to bed.
I could not win this case.
I dragged my feet,
gave one loud sigh,
my face all wet with tears
as I stomped off to bed.
I don’t know why
I have to go to bed.
I told her
she should go instead.
"I'm bored!" I told my mother
as she stood there washing dishes.
She told me, "Go clean your room,"
but that's not what I wanted to do.
"Momma, that sounds boring—
not much fun at all."
She promptly answered,
"Then vacuum down the hall."
I stomped my foot and shouted,
"No way! Not today!
I want a new adventure!"
How can it be, with all her years,
she has no great ideas?
So I asked her one more time
for something fun to do.
Craving something more,
I said once again,
"I want a new adventure!"
My mother sighed, our conversation over.
Exasperated, she exclaimed,
"I'm not your cruise director!"
When i love you is said , happy tears may be shed .
In a whisper in bedtime ears , calm and ease break all fears .
From long distance or face to face , the i love you fills the empty space.
I love you is said and heard with kind eyes , deep in the heart are the joyous cries .
It may be said with a concerning frown , love is still implied like a hidden treasure for it to be found .
Love is needed when one feels the hurt , a gentle kiss when one skids the knee in the dirt .
The warmth feel of a hug just because , bring smiles and laughter is what it does .
Those sincere and always caring words , i love you , in the mind , body , and soul , forever it will be heard .
Moms say this no matter what , in disguise or right upfront , to embrace it as you will , for god or bad moms will love you still .
I LOVE YOU MOM
So what if I die—
not too soon,
not the way I expect,
but suddenly, without warning?
After a quarrel with Mom,
storming out with a burning face,
cursing and blaming—
will heaven still accept me?
Or after my wife is pregnant
with a boy who must learn
how to exist in this edited world—
will he live to see the man I hoped to be?
Or after graduation,
my parents proud,
friends and teachers full of praise—
would my death make their sacrifices wasted?
Or at old age, past eighty-five,
dreams fulfilled,
a happy family and shelves of trophies—
is that the right way to die?
What if I died before five?
No dreams yet, only a small bright face.
The sorrow would belong to family—
would I be a forgotten dream?
Perhaps no death is planned.
It never knocks; it breaks in
and carries the soul away,
whether young, too young, old, or old enough.
Death knows its hour,
decreed by God.
So when a soul leaves the body,
do not cry too long.
Pray that the soul finds peace in the grave
and paradise in the hereafter.
Some days I think I miss you.
Other times I'm mad.
Sometimes I'm glad your gone but at the same time I am sad.
I often stop and remember one of the memories you have shared.
When you told me that your mom never really cared.
You said you dream about her but she never ever talks.
But I would say you're just like her a two face back stabbing mom.
I love you but I hate you it messes with my grief because I'm not sure how I feel now that you're deceased
I saw my doting mom, approach
with a plate of vomit and fried cockroach,
saying, "Eat this with buzzard dong,
and you'll grow up to be big and strong.
Eat your spam parmesan, a la mode
and salamander nematode,
your casserole of braised rat butts,
sprinkled lightly with scrambled guts.
Tell me - would you be predisposed
if it were slightly decomposed?
How about some lukewarm carrion?"
That's why I'm a vegetarian.
When I look at myself
in the mirror, I see an
18-year-old teen who
grew up too young.
10 years before 18,
I was an 8-year-old
girl living off food
stamps and strangers.
10 years before 8,
my mom was 27
and my brother
was born.
10 years before 27,
my mom was 17
and attending a
tailoring school
her uncle had paid.
10 years before 17,
my mom was 7 and
had her first comm-
union. 6 years later,
she would lose
an arm.
50 years later,
I am 28 years old,
and when I look
in the mirror,
I'm still 18 years.
It's been 10 years
since then,
nothing has changed,
not for the better,
not for the worse.
10 years of continuous
time loop and I stay
stranded in my thoughts.
My brother left,
My sisters are still kids,
my parents needing help,
I stay stranded along
the way.
Has God left me since then?
I wish I knew his thoughts,
I wish I knew his plans,
I wish I knew what comes
after this life if at all
I make it.
Sometimes I wonder
if I followed a different
path back then,
would 10 years ago
made a difference?
a mother births,
but she is a mother long before the labor
a promise to care for,
to love and to hold,
for better or for worse.
a mother protects.
a mother heals.
built-in powers granted by the gods.
a mother is a promise,
signed, sealed, and forged at conception.
The haunting question is..
how do you betray the one you love?
whom you wombed,
you promised to be here
yet I am motherless,
without love or comfort.
you promised me life,
yet granted me every way to die.
you promised me warmth,
but gave me a heart so cold.
our tie is astray,
our souls linked, yet welded with ice.
how I long for the promise you kept.
how I long to be your little girl again.
promise makers are forgivers too.
I will keep my vow to honor you.
I will forgive your deranged words,
only if you can uphold your bargain:
to be my giver.
to be my mother.
Mom Categories
Read wonderful mom poetry on the following sub-topics:
birthday, child, daughter, funeral, i love you, love, missing, mothers day, remembering, son, thank you
and more.
Definition | What is Mom in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
caregiver, child bearer, grandma, grandmom, grandmother, good mom, great grandmother, ma, mama, matriarch, matron, mommy, mum, parent