Love Mother Poems | Examples
These Love Mother poems are examples of Mother poems about Love. These are the best examples of Mother Love poems written by international poets.
Sometimes it strikes me. How unaware you are.
The words you speak. The harm they inflict.
Or worse, the denial, as if truth could simply vanish.
But love…it is absent.
You call only to boast of your effort,
The concern that could keep us close is missing.
Absent from a heart whose depths you can’t reach.
And still…it hurts.
If even a sliver of hope remained to reach you.
If even a small chance existed,
I would tell you what I long for you to hear.
But hope…it is gone.
I am not doomed to bear the blame,
so your hands can be clean.
Yet, one day. Maybe. I’ll thank you.
Though…not today.
In time, I’ll be grateful you broke my spirit.
For it is through that, I found her.
Oh how I wish you could meet her.
She is…love.
And I love her. I do. Deeply.
The woman I have become.
The light inside her, how it shines.
She has…peace.
Seeing now what could have been yours.
I ache for your loss.
How can I hold my hurt when in the end,
It is you…who lost.
Oh, sweet September, I greet you with mirth,
As it’s the month of my dear mom’s birth.
Something balmy is in late September’s chill,
Hauled in through the breeze from the hill.
As the cool wind whiffs past me, defiant and free,
Mom, I feel your gentle and caring arm around me.
Every day the sun rises and sets,
dawn and dusk, really are the best,
the new lit sky a divine painting,
where the colours never dry,
they just keep mixing,
She is an artist, the greatest there be,
She paints with wonder,
She is free but She weeps,
have you ever seen the rain?
She weeps with total abandon,
She does not choke back tears,
and when she cries most bitterly,
lightning out Her ears.
She gives birth to all life,
every moment labour pangs,
and grieves for the lost ones,
as your death amounds,
you may think yourself a mother,
but She's the only one,
She gave birth to you and me,
even earth and sun,
the dawn is streaked with red and blue,
and the moon is nearly gone,
the buds and flowers open up,
to greet the morning sun,
to each is given the gift of life,
and love in every breast,
with these two eternal life,
She alone knows what's best.
they say …
you cant take it with you
but you took so many little jewels
when you left -
your smile
your pure, unqualified love
your creativity and expression
your engaging mind
your kindness, your empathy
and your extraordinarily limitless patience …
but what I miss the most is
our talks …
about anything and nothing
and everything …
there was ne’er a doubt my heart was yours
and yours, of course, was mine
the truly ironic thing is
that we conversed SO much -
for many hours on end
when not a single, solitary word …
was ever needed.
I miss you, Mom ... like a clown misses tears.
Copyright © 2025 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art taken by my sister Terrilynn Dubreuil and filtered copyright-free by the author at Prisma )
Every time I piss on that little plastic stick I lose something.
An archer struck down on a battlement, a coin from a rich mans pocket, not enough to really feel it but enough to know it's gone. Something is.
Every time I let him cum in me I’m waving my white flag. Even if i ask him to, beg him to, I admit defeat.
To be a mother is to lose. From the point of conception to your last breath, you lose.
Your body is theirs to live in and reap for all they need.
Your thoughts are theirs, on them, or their thoughts.
Your health is in those tiny hands of theirs
.
And your love, your careful, gentle love, now raging red like an overfed hearth, will be theirs.
Whether they want it or not. Whether they take it or not.
It will rip from you and follow them like a curse.
And still, I ask him to, beg him to and admit my defeat. I piss on that plastic stick and hope, deep down, it will be my undoing.
Who are you?
Where were you?
What’s the connection?
Why now?
My mind ponders,
In figment of imagination, it wanders.
Seeking truths in riddles better left untold.
As I walked in alone,
What was the calling, unknown?
Masked in a cloak, perhaps a riddle to see,
Waiting for you to appear, to help untangle me.
What is pure joy?
What is elation?
An infant cradled in mothers’ arm,
The embrace, the warmth.
The laughter of a child,
All innocence, free from guile.
The maiden glance, the nascent word.
Phew…Effervescent beats surged within,
A fountain of joy bubbling unseen.
Your aura, brushed in hues of rainbow’s gleam.
Your vibes, as pleasant as the memory of a childhood dream.
And I stood smitten, shaken & stirred,
Awoken from the slumber, my vision blurred.
Sometimes, a lifetime is never enough,
Sometimes, a moment is magic in puff.
Sometimes, words vanish, unable to explain,
Sometimes, silence sings what the heart can’t contain.
Walking in, I didn’t know my calling,
Saying goodbye, my thoughts and feelings were sprawling.
Blessed I am to have experienced you,
Pending tale, yet untold, will follow.
Mama, did you know the precious amethyst shadow hours
I spent beside you, cuddled cosy-close, nestled in blankets of light,
shawled in your red-gold hair? I kissed each tear you cried;
each one a starlight pearl forged from the depths
of your fragile soul. I rocked seashell-shut to each lullaby note
and silently watched as you rocked my cold, empty cradle.
Sometimes you sensed me coiled at your breast -
a small, balled knot of grief. You felt my tiny fingers plucking at you
as tingling shivers. And sometimes I bounced sunshine-free
on your knee, a giggling orb of light.
Little one, once again I felt you here,
entombed in the womb of this eternal everywhere room,
your spirit sifting through my fingers like hourglass sand.
Pain has blanked my mind wraith-white, but I felt
your lips nip the warm rosebuds of my nipples
as I pressed a lullaby to the delicate shell of your ear
and brief blessed seconds spun out like years.
My sentient heart will always hold you, my grip will never slip
as my earthbound hands, human-warm, reach through time
and heather-shadowed ether to love and care for you.
By Poet "A mother's love is never ending, always with a gentle hand."
With a gentle hand,
our life starts off being held and rocked.
As we grow and learn,
life will grow with us.
With a gentle hand,
we are told no many times.
Sometimes we learn,
sometime we do not learn.
With a gentle hand,
hopefully we get straightened out.
In life one day we will need to take our baby,
with a gentle hand.
With A Gentle Hand Contest //Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Contest Judged: 9/16/2025 4:35:00 AM
( 9th Place )
Written: September 7, 2025
With a gentle hand,
You balance the world while its feet are still untried…
little fingers twist like seashells
around the promise of tomorrow.
Love is gentle in this place;
it hides within a cradle song,
a steady thrum of trust
leaning into your heart.
Every touch becomes a promise
each embrace a refuge -
showing the fragile ones
that gentleness carries power.
When the lullabies grow silent
your hand remains
carrying tomorrow gently
like sunrise opening the sky.
There could never be a more gentle hand
than that of a mother and her loving touch.
The emotional bond takes place, unplanned
by the one who loves her child so much.
Even months before her babe is due to be born,
her shielding hands can often be found
on her tummy, protecting the child she's sworn
to keep healthy inside of her, safe and sound.
When she hears the wail of its first cry,
her gentle hand will count toes and fingers.
Her tears will then fall, and she'd heave a sigh
while on her infant, the mother's sight lingers.
With comforting hands, she will offer healing
when her toddler falls while learning to walk.
Applauding hands when proud and revealing
her pleasure at the first words her child will talk.
Soothing hands, she has through childhood days.
Year after year, a mother's story will unfold.
Tender hands showing love and affection ~ always
in her heart, a child is a treasure, no matter how old.
Warmer than the summer sun
Softer than the breeze
Sweeter than a rose in bloom
My mother’s all of these’s .
My mother always stood by me
Throughout my childhood years
She would always be around me
If I would shed a tear.
She would always pick me up
No matter when I fall
Because the love of my mother
Is the strongest love of all.
Yes , mothers are God’s angels
She is my angel too
That’s why I love her so much
And miss her loving touch.
my mommys love was a loves room I knocked until my Knuckles bruised.
she taught me Silence like a bed time song, and bitterness in breakfast.
Her hugs were shark -skin
smooth if you dont move
but alisia moved
alisia always moved
She gave me her tired
like a hand-me down sweater
too tight in the chest
loose in the soul.
I learned to fold myself
like laundry she forgot in the
washer.
I wanted her wanting
but sne wanted drugs.
I wasent the drugs was
he child and i needed
her but
She needed them.
Now I carry mommy
In my Jaw in
in dreams
In the way I panic in someone
Says "mommy”
by alisia bentley
With soft touch of hands
mother smooths creases of fear—
folding in embrace
touching quivering candle
fingers humming haunting hymns
Love requires no hands
it invents its own language—
wing, beak, paw and lick
a body curled up to care
whispers —'you're safe'
Whales cuddle up close
dolphins ring rosy halos
seals seek safe harbors
penguins bow against the wind
birds soothe with beaks and feather
Love without fingers
a current that wraps and lifts
a tide unbroken
it cradles the heart within
steadies the faltering steps
Such love needs not touch—
it listens, watches, imbibes
hovering in care
joining two hearts together
with spirit of motherhood
I was two years old
My mom got mad at me for crying
So she threw me in an ice cold bath
She turned the lights off
And she closed the door
I turned purple from screaming
But she chose not to hear me
That was my first time being scared of the dark
My tears fell into the water as I waited for her to come back
But then it was silent
My eyes look for her once more as I start to slip under..
I think I fell asleep because I don’t remember
Just as I start to close my eyes, I look up from the bottom of the tub and see light shining through the water
Then a face
As I’m brought back to the surface, I see my mother. I’m coughing up water
“Mommy…!”
She cried after that, I don’t know why
I hope I didn’t make her sad
I just wanted her to love me again
honest
handsome
honey
happy
hope hail
hale half
heart hand
hankers
house home
honor