Mum Poems | Examples of Mum Poetry

Feeling rather lost my darling mother pasted my heart feels ripped out leaving me empty inside She was 96 weak at the end I know she was glad to go she missed my father and was pleased to join him She was one hell of a lady very strong willed to the end she hated it when I cried told me not to...

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Feeling warm, Mommy’s cold, sense of duty, Mommy stays, First of four clouds, She clears the sky, So light can shine, On the cloud she raised....

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My mother’s hands never told me they love me. But when they touched me, all my wounds understood that love needs no words....

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Coocoo doodle I do, Not every day I coo, What Mum can do, I can – My skin needs a sun tan. My hair with homemade curls, My makeup shines like pearls. I'm just a baby, see, Acting adult, maybe. Bring napkins for wee-wee, Ensure fun flows for free. Tie me nappies for poo. And bandage my boo-boo. Baby guys will whistle, Love – their own epistle. While I...

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Each night after the evening meal there was never a discussion as to who would wash the dishes and who would do the drying up. My mother was the washer, my sister and I did the drying up. Hot steam would rise from the sink before plates were plunged deep in foam and scrubbed with a brush - we would wait, tea towel in...

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If ever you were taken from me, The sun would rise in mourning black, And birds would fold their wings in shame For mother not to bring you back. The sky would wear your apron soft, The wind would weep your name, And I — a child with broken psalms — Would never speak the same. If ever you were taken from...

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'To Womb it may concern,' tho' not quite the norm, the gyno's form letter read, 'I am pleased to inform you are not about to have a baby, but instead, in brief, double your pleasure double your fun, it may be a relief, so with no further ado, not keeping mum nor holding you on needles and pins, with two for the price of one, Madame, you are expecting...

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They say a mothers love Is everything You could say Infinite A key ingredient needed For the upbringing of her children For a black mother Parenthood is a little different There are so many factors to consider Like racism and safety They have to love their children extra harder Just to hide the noise of all the...

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She left me. She left to abandon me in a vulnerable state. In my weakest state. The hurt and heart break was enough damage. The words that were said felt said to abandon me. She is a monster in everything she does. I don’t know how to feel really. Do I feel anger, abandon, sadness, happy? I just know I was...

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Shall I Compare You... ? Shall I compare you to the sun? Shining and warm, my dearest one Shall I compare you to the moon? Unique and bright, my greatest boon Shall I compare you to the light? Illuminating what not of sight Shall I compare you to the knight? in honour and dignity willing to fight Shall I compare you to the Queen? Admiring...

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When a mothers love is supposed to be your first, It makes it all hurt a little bit worse. For you never taught me what love was, Only reminding me that it was all because, It’s hard to give what you never had, But I was just your daughter, and without a dad. I longed...

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sweetest bloom of all heavenly Chrysanthemum my guardian angel ...

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the women of my lifetime are women of a lifeline they teach me kindness from bright minds the ones who despite it all are still planting seeds in this ugly world turning fields of greed into fields of green and hate into lovely words and that's sisters, mothers girlfriends, lovers the ones who'll smother us in hugs when we're down in trenches plagued by what's above us the ones who...

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In the quiet of the black night, beneath the white moon's glow, My mother stands like Durga, fierce yet gentle in flow. With a crown of stars and a heart full of grace, She embodies strength in every embrace. Her eyes are the wisdom of the ages from the past, A guardian of affection, steadfast and vast. With arms that protect...

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My knees wear the dirt like a second skin, bruised to the bone, bright as bitten apples. You press your thumb to my wrist, her laughter, once light, now flickers in the air— a kiln and the clay, forever bound. But the kiln runs cold, the clay cracks wide, her voice, once honey-thick, now thins to thread. She curls inward, brittle as...

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