Mothers Day Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Mothers Day Sonnet poems are examples of poetry about Mothers Day Sonnet. These are the best examples of Sonnet Mothers Day poems written by international poets.
Poetry Soup Premiere Contest winner
MOTHER'S DAY poetry contest sponsored by Benjamin Bartley, April 2025
Morning starts early, before it gets light
Opening cupboards, to see what’s in store
Teachable moments, with wrong versus right
Hope grabs the car keys, then heads through the door
Early bird children, are making their way
Ready to take on, another school week
So many hurdles, to climb day-by-day
Destiny journeys, down these terraced streets
Another story, of work’s imbalance
Young hungry children, get so tall, so fast
Confidence takes it's fences and chances
Armed with new shoes but, how long will they last?
Roses or chocolates, say life can be hard
Demanding much more, than words on a card.
You shirk the weight of parenthood's call,
leaving your children to wither, unfed.
Are you a father, or mere specter of one?
A mother, or just a shadow that's gone?
While others nurture, educate, and guide,
you abandon your own to fate's tide.
Your concern lies with outsiders, it seems,
while your kin suffer, and your legacy beams.
The children you forsook, the partner you left,
will rise to greatness, despite the neglect.
Will you claim pride in their future fame?
Seek praise for years of absence, and hollow claims?
Awaken to your duties, and seize the day,
for the future beckons, and will not stray.
Life doesn't come with manual it Come's with a mother
Her love will never end but it comes for ever;
Her love is more beautiful than a fresh flower.
Mother gives life, where mother-in-law gives never!
Mother takes all the place, no one else takes her place;
Mother's love is fuel which will always have chace;
Motherhood is the biggest gamble in the world,
Where the mother's secret is never ever told.
Mother's are like glue, you can't see but they hold you;
When I grow old I would be like her, that's true;
It's possible to get pure gold, but a mother?
She is irreplaceable by any other
Her's is the purest form of love, softens edges,
Mother is God, in hearts of children takes pledges.
A Sonnet For Gloria
My mother’s eyes of ebony, sparkling stars
Carefully, she paints her lips' gypsy red
A cascade of flowing ringlets, her hair shines from afar
Muscatels quaint flowers, she wore on her head
Her costume; polka-dot, red and white
To have spent more time with dance, her regrets
Her smell unique, perfume is there more delight?
With my small hands in hers she taught me castanets
A spirited folklore, so well I know
Flamenco music hath a far more pleasing sound
I grant I never saw a goddess glow
My mother, when she tapped, stomped the ground
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any revealed, beyond compare
I long for the faces of those that I love
the laughter the hugs of beautiful kids
Victorian teacups, & lacey white gloves
an epicure diner, beneath bubbling lids
I hope for a feast with a good ending year
less tears more smiles, in all that I hold dear
May the good Lord fasten and note my request
then offer up blessings to Mothers of best
On this special day may all Mothers be told
love is a flower that blooms with May showers
Mothers are worth more then silver and gold
when it comes to love they hold all the power
Its Mothers Day so let her know you love her
not for a day, not for a month, but forever...
A mother is your first line of defense
The general who always leads the charge
She'll look right through your pleas of innocence
Then dress your wounded spirit, in her arms
How wise she is, to know when to correct
At times will even hand down discipline
Demanding daily, that you learn respect
Then nightly, ask forgiveness for your sins
And when the dreaded day comes, she is gone
You're left to fight without her by your side
Her wisdom and her love still carry on
Her compass will remain, to be your guide
My loving mother was a gift from God
I pray He passes on, this grateful nod.
by Daniel Turner
in memory of my loving mother
My mother has a garden
where abundant borders grow.
To keep the plot in harmony
she’ll hoe and weed and mow.
This time of year is cruel -
not all the plants would thrive
if it were not for my mother
whose care keeps them alive.
Yet she tends another garden
With an orchard far away -
Where she sends the love the fruit
trees need to blossom every day.
And with my love I send my mum
the flowers in this bouquet.
A mother's true intention one day blooms
When her child gives birth in glad growth of time
To revel in her grandchild's feathered plumes
Soon to mature just like her child, sublime.
As grandchild leaves the nest in fettered flight
Her mother too will feel the somber pain
That will not lessen loss felt day and night
Until her child adds to kin once again.
Then, only then, will daughter understand
How raising up a precious child from birth
With love and caution tended by her hand,
In letting go, she will endure on earth
The joys of becoming a Granny too,
And Mother's Day will triple in her view!
4-2-19
Happy Mother's Day to all
Of three billion contenders God considered
to be my mother some thirty-odd years
in the rear ago, the one He delivered,
all things considered, could’ve been (cue her tears)
much worse. My mom [insert a Hallmark cliché]
and for that reason alone, when compared
to yours, is a far better mother, okay?
I mean, look at this sonnet her son prepared -
it’s dang near a lock to squat on the fridge,
held by a magnetized green letter ‘B’-
‘B’ as in Beneath a Bridge I’d likely live,
for all my corners cut and talents blown,
had I not been Blessed with a mom like my own.
5/2/2019
REMEMBERING ROSE KENNEDY
by ron wilson aka vee bdosa
A rose was plucked from many of the day
and taken to our Lord, by His request,
who keeps it so it will not wilt away
and now it shines the rose of our Lord's breast.
'Twas just a very simple rose to grow
but light complexes colors visually
and all those colors make up all we know,
to turn it into what our eyes can see.
And what a joy she was, as if a song,
until the Master called for our dear Rose,
and now we ask, how can we get along
without this joy of life that seldom grows?
Such roses do not grow just ev'rywhere
but when they do, we see a Mother there.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
SONNET
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Truly, spring is in the air, fair lady!
The winter sun, it was just a maybe?
Now set free, springtime, joy, its warmth and glow!
Doth invite all new life to prosper, grow!
Truly, spring is in the air, fair lady!
Bluebells ring afore the woods turn shady.
It has golden daffodils in full bloom
Mothers Day, pick a bunch, brighten mum's room!
Truly, spring is in the air, fair lady!
Sometimes mornings are just a tad hazy,
Mist, shrouding, for a moment its beauty.
A wedding veil, well, it should, or could be?
Truly, spring is in the air, fair lady!
Your words inspirational really!
HAIKU
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
spring... right now... sunshine
all wildlife is at it...
humans anytime...
Inspired by Emile Pinet,
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/first_signs_of_spring_890290 thank you... Mick
Early this morning, the song of blackbirds
quell the swell of silence enfolded by night.
Dim light on a distant ridge: the sun returns,
freed from Atlantis, drenched in the cloak of life.
Soft dew-drop showers dapple the dusty
garden with pops of pastels like lavender,
lilac, tea rose and pink, from clouds that carry
cleansing tears of a newborn’s young mother,
the potter protective her infant clay.
She picks up her child, a fragile bowl, chipped,
frail from thirty years spent running away,
now run aground as a twice sunken ship.
Her hands keep a promise, one quietly spoken,
made long ago when morning had broken.
- For my mother who sang me Cat Stevens'
Morning has Broken the day
I was born.
Ava - I spoke to your half sister today.
She says it’s warm in Albuquerque. She tells you hello
and to please wish your mother, her step-mother,
a happy Mother’s Day on her behalf.
She asked me if you still look like her twin.
I said I simply don’t know.
Then she asked if I remembered our trip last year to Galveston
when the two of you, holding hands, danced on the pier.
Of course I do. In fact, I think about it
every single day (the same way I think about you).
I’ll never forget watching my two girls,
each the other’s half sister, who, when finally together,
painted the boardwalk with one complete giggle
that now completely splinters me and your sister, Lily, in two.
My mother was your average country mom
She wasn't gorgeous. Some might call her "plain"
But had the patience to diffuse a bomb
Her eyes grew narrow, when I caused her pain
She never raised her voice nor slapped my face
Still taught me right from wrong and not to lie
Made sure I bowed my head when dad said grace
Encouraged me to find new things to try
And even though she worked, twas not for greed
She took great pleasure from the "simple things"
She told me, "Faith in God," was all one needs
That real love doesn't come with any strings
My mother was as gentle as a dove
My prayer this Mother's Day, she knows she's loved
by Daniel Turner
SONNET IV
Reason
For what Reason of Morale,
Do men Fight?
For what benefit of Existence,
Do men Combat?
Dogs! They lack the Sanity of a Fold,
Hence struggle to make all Benefits.
Dogs struggle, Sheep don’t.
Dogs bark, Sheep don’t.
Man is a Source of shelter and a Definition to Sanity.
A Source of living, the Crown of creation.
Mummy; hear her anxious call.
As you go Son, Remember Your Fold.
The Son of whom you are; Forget Not.
To err is Human, to forgive is Divine.
APRILL 2012/ M.H.O.G Unveiled