Mother Child Poems

A Mother, a Soliloquy

The best compliment I have ever received is, “You’re going to be a wonderful mother one day.” I adore the idea of having children, treating them with love and kindness, nurturing and caring for them even when it’s hard. I daydream of dancing, playing, laughing, crying, and everything in between. In the very midst of

To graves together in the heat of the earth

Mother, child are you bleeding
Watching the world come down
The doors are locked, the streets are cold
Are you buried in the world's soul
Spiritually entwined 
To live until you die

Mother hold my soul
And sew my pockets full of rubies
Take the candy from my teeth
And be please buried with me

Child holder of my soul
Asking help and talking tall
Bury

Self-Realization

I only cry on the inside;
Lamenting the child who's hiding there.
No one can know what is buried.
It's a weight that I must bear.

You may marvel at my strength;
Such fortitude is often rare
But all alone late at night,
I sink into despair.

The child will not let me sleep.
She needs the comfort of her mother.
I've searched a lifetime

Me And That Dog

Get out of that or I'll skin you alive she would say
Me and that dog would head for the woods right away
We were not abused
Just a saying used
Because me and that dog got a hug at end of day

My Mother's Child

You can never be ready, she said
I wasn't what you expected.
Listen,
No one told me "postpartum depression"
Until I saw you in the kitchen
With my baby sister at your feet,
White hot tears,
A savage grief,
Out of nowhere.
I was told to go play with my dolls.
Listen,
I thought it was my fault,
So I hid in my dark closet.
Listen,
When you couldn't

Sonnet for Kellie

Some say your words act as a balm
A fleet of sweet tidings
Sailing into a gray dawn.

With white sails riding
On the heels of a grand mast
That sways without invoking
A need for true ballast.

It seems as though your rage
That spars with mine among the waves
Has now chosen to disengage
From me among the graves...

Of sailors lost at sea
Displaced

Spooky Spiders

Hear Harry’s hysterical, startling scream.
Little spooky spiders made him run to the extreme.
It wasn’t a fairytale fantasy dream;
the cobwebs created a crazy football team.

Mother thought she’d heard their scary scheme,
so she planned to question the Queen.
I thought they were merely mean,
moving to our happy home, creating a scary scene.

Before She Was a Mother

She misses the time before she was a mother,
the life she once had now hidden, under cover.
Before pasta and paint, and plastic packed lunches
replaced lie ins and coffees, and trusting her own hunches.
She yearns for washed hair and fresh eyes without lines,
but knows, deep down, it’s for him her heart pines.

Changling Unwanted

Coldest day yet, 'fore new bairn was christened,
mother's muse foretold as hearth embers failed.
Scripture held tight, she quietly listened,
as cradled creature withered, weeped, and wailed.

What secret kept a mother by proxy, 
pallid face adorned in humanlike form.
Life borne so different any other,
unabashed at life's ex utero norm.

Green-gilled coveting mother's pride they wait,
singing forgotten changling's mirthful

Oh Child

I was so glad to welcome you 
And it was such a joy to hold you 
Never wondered how life could’ve been without you 
For I wish My womb could never have carried you 

Feed baby feed on some milk 
Do not cry with fear i am right here 
Close your ears listen to what

I Dream Poetry

Awake or asleep, I dream poetry.
What, how and when to write?
I think about it day and night.
When I sit deep in my thoughts,
Searching for the right words,
And when I count the syllables,
Using the fingers of my hands,
People think that I am mad!
For meals, if I fail to respond
To the calls of my better half,
And when

A Mother's Tears

More precious than pearls are they;
Diamonds come not near in value;
Their weight impossible to be
Measured in carats of gold.
Oceans carry not such vast
Turbulence…

They flow from broken eyes,
But stem from a shattered heart:
Squeezed and crushed,
Beating arrhythmically in
Loss devastating, pain perpetual.

Each drop of sorrow falls upon the
Meadows in heaven,
Flowers bloom in their millions…
Angels gather bouquets of devotion

Poor Blue

Poor Blue. Written about a visit to the butchers with my mum, in Liverpool, when I was a child

Poor Blue

To butchers I went
With mother to spend
Some money on meat for the week
For two days a week 
My mother cooked meat,
Boiled tatties, with carrots and peas 

This did coincide
With baths as child
As meat and a bath

Dear Mother

Dear mother,
I wish I was small again,
Like how you wish I was.
Maybe then,
You’d hold me like you used to.

Mother

we share the stars,
paths unknown to one another.
they call out to us and we remember -
we meet ourselves
walking together.

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