Mother Poems | Beautiful Poems About and For Mothers

Mother Nature gazed happily on her brood, until one of them spoiled her mood. Her smartest monkey was on the take - "Could it be that I made a mistake?"...

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with less words risen are the river's current melody in minnow's swimming hollow that's able to hallow climax of a cliche film xerophile for desert's scene...

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down on the floor hands and feet would lift me ~ i was a plane blew up balloons she made me animals ~ i was dazzled taught me stitches loved skilled embroidery ~ i was craft sown drew paper dolls sketched with clothes to cut out ~ i was prized fun read tales aloud fueled my fantasies ~ i was book hooked spent time with me shared skills and joys with...

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As a young boy when not very old I did enjoy being told grisly bedtime stories by my Mother the favourite was none other than altho' I was just a nipper Whitechapel Fishmonger Murders perpetrated by Jack the Kipper ...

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ECHOES PIERCE THE SILENCE* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I open the sewing basket, letting my eyes and hands run over the tools she had used—the scissors, the darning egg, the pinking shears, the pins, the tattered, tomato-shaped pincushion, and spools of thread. I gaze at the metal spool-shaped bobbins remembering how, as a small child, I flushed them down...

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Mama, why is it that you can't sleep well? Do you have insomnia coming on? What's keeping you up even though you're tired? Your husband who watches television half the day,  Your adult child who is packing up and moving away, Your young hyperactive child who likes to play, play, play, The ever present clutter all throughout the house, You set up...

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Sometimes alone I've sat, And thought about just this and that Today I thought about someone, Who floods my eyes with tears I know you know It's you Mother, I've missed you all these years...

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I feel too overwhelmed. I feel like a thousand hands have touched me. I can't give anymore. Is it the lack of privacy? Is it the constant need of nurturing? My mind is screaming. Stop touching me. Stop talking to me. My body, mind, and soul are overwhelmed. Everyone wants something from me. Everyone wants my attention...

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Reminiscent of a doe with a hue as rich as earth, your gaze takes me home to a cedar-filled hearth. Welcoming like hot chocolate and as vibrant as autumn's leaves, your stare carries the life that Mother Nature herself weaves. Neutral, yet expressive— as versatile as leather, but still so alive— your eyes are the gemstones favored by the sun and I alike....

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“The only real influence I've ever had was over myself.” The Artist Edward Hopper ( Re: Altering or creating Providence.) Assuming there are more brilliant ways, That our life takes twists and turns like a maze, Yet do we have influence over unforeseen plans, For our future and the way it evolves and spans ? I believe that our...

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How she loved diamonds, her birthstone. Literally diamonds were her best friends. She worked very hard and each piece of jewelry she bought made her happy. Cluster of diamonds or solitaires, emeralds and sapphires with diamonds set in precious metals of gold or...

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This scene occurred just days before she died. Somehow I made it through before I cried. While pale and weak, eyes closed, in bed she lay, I thought of all the things I longed to say. I whispered “Beautiful" and kissed each hand. Confused, Mom said, "What? I don’t understand.” “Your HANDS,” I said. She answered, “They’re worn out and wrinkled. That’s...

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She is always in a position of humility An attitude of prayer ...

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Tiranga in the Sky By Amanah Imtiaz Kazi 8F I see you, India bold and bright, In every spark of morning light. Not just in books or words we say, But in our hearts, you live each day. You're more than stories we were told, Of battles fought and courage bold. You rise with dreams in every face, With every fight for truth and...

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Games at the baby shower ...

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