They say blood is thicker than water
Maybe if you weighed it by the gram
Rule obeyed by every son & daughter
Ham it up when you are in your pram
A through strife of life transporter
With some families it can be a scam
Parents don’t love like they oughter
Sadly behave badly don’t give a damn
Should be your ultimate problem sorter
Even when your are in a real jam
Treat their offspring like a free porter
As your emotions they will just slam
We are just a lamb to the slaughter
As your devotions like a bull they ram
They should be your bricks & mortar
Older realise I’m in their folder of spam
Despite fact they should be a supporter
So with our friends the good times cram
Because sometimes famalam is a sham
There once was a mother so "grand,"
who failed to see harm in her hand-
my cries turned to scars,
while she played all the paths,
of a queen with no soul, just demand.
She missed every sign, feigned disgust,
While I drowned in betrayal and dust.
Now BPD's my name,
and PTSD's the same,
and "normal"? That's just non-
negotiable, I must!
She said, "I was there every day!"
Conveniently blind in her way.
My truth? Just a myth-
Unless served with her pith.
So here I rebuild-well, hurray!
A limerick, absurd, just like she-
A joke wrapped in trauma and plea.
But I laugh (biting, sharp),
While I heal in the dark:
"Thanks, mum. Guest identity's free?"
She's a rose,
Beauty in every dose.
With petals of patience
And a heart full of care,
Don't mistake her kindness
For weakness to spare.
For no rose is made
Just for the gaze,
Like every rose,
She has thorns in her ways.
i like to move it
so i can call it
my fazballs itch
it needs scritch
its now bleeding
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my fazballs are now gone
Sometimes, My Mum is Boring...
She's always cleaning the house.
It feels that way anyway,
She's trying to catch that silly mouse.
Sometimes, She's busy when I want to play,
It makes me a little sad...
I wish she was ready when I was ready,
It doesn't feel that way Sometimes.
But my Mummy... She makes the best food! And she always reads at night.
She teaches me things, lots of things,
And protect me from spooky sights.
She gives the best hugs,
And can have the most serious stare.
She's sooo beautiful,
But in the morning you should see her hair!
My Mummy, yeah She's boring...
But She's really, honestly great.
She loves me and that's enough,
Though sometimes it's hard to wait.
The End.
My Mum is going through an "Awakening,"
I don't get it, I wake up every day.
They said it takes years...
And forever?
Surely that can't be.
What's a twin flame?
Why is it so important?
I can see four flames in our fireplace right now?
Sha-dow government...
I have a shadow too, it follows me.
We hang out.
Mum even spoke to her friends about some families who rule the world...
What about our family?
How do we get there?
She said we chose each other...
I don't remember doing that...
I wasn't even here then.
Silly Mum, but I guess it does feel like our hearts are forever.
Apparently... We were asleep once.
I was asleep yesterday... And every night.
I still love my Mum, even though she doesn't make sense sometimes.
She says that our uncle and Grandma are still asleep too?
I saw them last week.
Did I mention that I love my Mum?
She says for now...
To tell the truth,
Be kind,
Discover what is right and stand for it.
She also said it's important to be a great listener.
I'll keep listening to my Mum.
Words, they say, are a powerful tool
To share thoughts and express emotions.
Instances, there are, when they are less potent,
In moments spent in meaningful silence.
When understanding life is taking a toll,
Direly confusing and overwhelming,
A minute of solitude will calm the soul,
And escape the noise, often troubling.
When tempers soar, anger flares,
When utterances cut deep within,
Trading no speeches, nor even a stare;
Is a fire doused by water, resembling.
When an idea shared is taken for granted,
Like a wind passing, no bearing, no weight,
Wisdom dictates that dignity be protected;
To keep mum is a clever sleight.
When the soul seems to go astray
And wanders an unfamiliar path,
A quietude may help find the way,
And heal all personal scathe.
The miracle of birth alone
For unto you can only be known
Now your arduous journey has begun
Like a flower blossoming under the sun
The pain and emotions you go through and endure
A love unsullied and so pure
And the source of strength you somehow derived
Till your new born arrived
For unto one’s life is born another
There is no love greater than that of a mother
Papa bear, no longer there?
Who are you? This can't be true.
Gone are you smiles, our distance is miles
Poor Vinnie wants peace, but you dance to the beast
Greed is you shame, wish we did not share a name
The dad I once loved, to be held to be hugged
Your motives are clear, but grandads still here
Much to your angst, oh just piss off to France!
Leave him to me, we'll be fine him and me
Long live the king, I won't let you win
Go off on your jaunt, but know this will haunt...
Lost your only flesh, now as for the rest
Don't know how you sleep at night, what you've done isn't right
But God is swift these days, you'll get karma for your ways
Julie too, crocodile tears are moot
You can both whistle, she's prickly as a thistle
Me and mine are just fine, going alone in our prime
There I was enjoying life
in my mid-20s, job was good
loving my girlfriend now engaged
parents happy, puts me in good mood
Learning much about God's love
so I could put my trust in Him
reading the Bible always every day
feel God's joy up to the brim
Then, out of the blue, life changed
my dear Mum, whom I loved so dear
took a turn seemingly for the worse
her heart felt pain, now I'm in fear
I just thought, 'anything, but not this'
my Mum was taken to the hospital
the next 24 hours would be crucial
think now her life ebbs away little by little
At work next day came the sad news
my dear Mum has now passed away
words hard to find, surely can't be my Mum
but reality set in, tongue felt like clay
Well, we are all mortal
in reality, we are just here on loan
so my Mum has now gone
she adopted me as her own
I look just like my mother.
Our eyes blend into each other.
I wear her features everywhere.
The more of life I uncover,
The more I see we share the same suffering.
Her blood runs in me,
the way I try to run free.
But I weaponise her blood to flee.
I am her reflection she always sees.
What an honour it is to be like you—
nobility and humility running through.
But don’t forget the last racers too:
agony and weakness, trailing behind us two.
All racers walk the same path,
ending in the same bloodbath,
charging both her and my neuropath.
She’s known for being an empath—
I buried that part in the earth,
afraid of taking the same warpath.
A mirror never lies—
It only reverses what we’re afraid to face.
mum
petal
perkiness
a sweet fragrance
marigold cousin
residing in a vase
part of a gorgeous bouquet
decorating mama’s kitchen
picked this morning from her garden
wonderful life testimonial
The one who brought us from Eden,
Suffered pains out of fun.
The one who learnt months of burden,
Knows mom is never done...
Living for others;
Amazing are all mothers
That nurture brothers.
The one whose perfect frown laughs cool;
Such spirited calm hints,
The one whose tragedies hide rule
So strict like dad's imprints...
Giving prompt warning,
To sustain cruel forewarning.
Mom's own- adorning!
The one who travel down smiles path
Before laughter runs miles...
The one whose pain gives joy footpath
That joy storms all pains guiles-
Building up real soul-
Each for love to be made whole,
And strip pains off goal.
Blessed is the mother
who gives, and gives,
and then writes a poem
to know she still lives.
As a kid, if I fell down
and grazed my knee,
my Mum, she would attempt
to comfort me,
with a sticky plaster and, 'There, there,'
to which I'd reply,
'Where, where? Here?'
'No, there,' she'd sigh,
'But where's there?'
inquisitive as always, I would ask,
as a sensitive, yet difficult, child,
I was quite the task,
with cuts, bruises and sprains,
more than a handful, no less,
otherwise, born to run wild,
a piece of work in progress.
Mum Categories
Definition | What is Mum 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
grandmother, mommy, parent, ma, mama, matriarch, matron, mum, child bearer, mumsy,