Poems about Mother
#mother
Here you'll find poems about relationships with mother. Depicting a relationship that's sometimes difficult, other times beautiful and sentimental. A huge range of emotions displayed through poetry about mother.
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 4:35am
27th Oct 2020 4:35am
Sempiternal
today my mind and I visited
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
...
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
...
#mother
#memories
#SelfReflection
37 reads
8 Comments
FallenAngle
Poem Published
27th Oct 2020 2:40am
27th Oct 2020 2:40am
Mother
Tell me what I should do
With all of my broken dreams,
How should I tend to the scars
That healed but never ceased to burn.
Show me how to close my eyes and sleep
Without hearing the cries for mercy,
Teach me to look in the mirror
And not be repulsed by what I see.
Take some of the shame from my shoulders
Atleast the weight you passed to me,
Your sins are not mine to atone for
So tell me why I'm the one paying the price.
Give me back the years you have stolen
I tried and tried to uncover our truth, ...
With all of my broken dreams,
How should I tend to the scars
That healed but never ceased to burn.
Show me how to close my eyes and sleep
Without hearing the cries for mercy,
Teach me to look in the mirror
And not be repulsed by what I see.
Take some of the shame from my shoulders
Atleast the weight you passed to me,
Your sins are not mine to atone for
So tell me why I'm the one paying the price.
Give me back the years you have stolen
I tried and tried to uncover our truth, ...
#mother
#abuse
#confusion
#FeelingLost
#daughter
29 reads
2 Comments
Insiderew
rew
rew
Poem Published
19th Oct 2020 9:37pm
19th Oct 2020 9:37pm
Almost my face - revisited.
Relatively, he's very close
this sensuous sinner from me
becomes me, hands inside my clothes,
this impetuous, lustful he.
Hot young limbs grip around my waist
my eyes above, almost my face,
slap him down? can't resist, my lips,
will this lead to complete disgrace?
Heaven knows. hand caresses face, throat
shirt off shoulders, bra strap tweaked,
has he crossed the drawbridge, my moat,
are my defences being breached?
Buttons open, I lay supine
skillful fingers, I am disrobed,
is this a...
this sensuous sinner from me
becomes me, hands inside my clothes,
this impetuous, lustful he.
Hot young limbs grip around my waist
my eyes above, almost my face,
slap him down? can't resist, my lips,
will this lead to complete disgrace?
Heaven knows. hand caresses face, throat
shirt off shoulders, bra strap tweaked,
has he crossed the drawbridge, my moat,
are my defences being breached?
Buttons open, I lay supine
skillful fingers, I am disrobed,
is this a...
#mother
#erotic
#son
70 reads
4 Comments
randyjohnson
Poem Published
17th Oct 2020 5:47pm
17th Oct 2020 5:47pm
Saint Agnes
Saint Agnes is what my mom should be called.
When she died, I was both saddened and appalled.
I admire women homemakers more than women who work because Mom was a homemaker.
I was devastated on March the 6th of 2013 because my poor mother needed an undertaker.
Mom wasn't actually a saint but she was as close as a person could get.
You would've been very happy and fortunate if you and Mom had met.
She was a wonderful mother and that's something I'm proud to confess.
She was one in a million and she should be called Saint Agnes.
When she died, I was both saddened and appalled.
I admire women homemakers more than women who work because Mom was a homemaker.
I was devastated on March the 6th of 2013 because my poor mother needed an undertaker.
Mom wasn't actually a saint but she was as close as a person could get.
You would've been very happy and fortunate if you and Mom had met.
She was a wonderful mother and that's something I'm proud to confess.
She was one in a million and she should be called Saint Agnes.
#mother
#death
#memorial
#son
#nonfiction
29 reads
1 Comment
JohnnyBlaze
Poem Published
13th Oct 2020 6:46pm
13th Oct 2020 6:46pm
Return of the Moth Woman
Abruptly waking on the wrong wing
of her chrysalis cot, Megalopygidae
is NOT having a good hair-day
I mean, just look at that bed-head!
Although ... everyone swears
our little, riding, hooded
moth-er carries more than a
scintilla of chinchilla
in those red, flannel genes
she wears to the liquor store
And soon, she will emerge
from the concrete jungle thick ...
of her chrysalis cot, Megalopygidae
is NOT having a good hair-day
I mean, just look at that bed-head!
Although ... everyone swears
our little, riding, hooded
moth-er carries more than a
scintilla of chinchilla
in those red, flannel genes
she wears to the liquor store
And soon, she will emerge
from the concrete jungle thick ...
#mother
#moon
#night #ElizabethBishop
#night #ElizabethBishop
83 reads
8 Comments
Insiderew
rew
rew
Poem Published
11th Oct 2020 4:44pm
11th Oct 2020 4:44pm
thrift
I do so like him to make a fuss
out shopping, boutique, mall or thrift,
it shows who is in charge, between us,
the public's recognition is, swift.
I guess it's age and size, différence,
this explains those, very knowing nods
and he, of course, will make, no pretence,
stroking maman, for us, nothing odd.
He, is my theatrical dresser
and i, his conciliant modél,
a scrap of silk, held, with great flair,
hands, mold fold, feeling eyes, agog.
But nobody seems to mind, too much,
the changing room? he always gets the...
out shopping, boutique, mall or thrift,
it shows who is in charge, between us,
the public's recognition is, swift.
I guess it's age and size, différence,
this explains those, very knowing nods
and he, of course, will make, no pretence,
stroking maman, for us, nothing odd.
He, is my theatrical dresser
and i, his conciliant modél,
a scrap of silk, held, with great flair,
hands, mold fold, feeling eyes, agog.
But nobody seems to mind, too much,
the changing room? he always gets the...
#love
#mother
#son
19 reads
0 Comments
AntonellaKinkPoet
Antonella
Antonella
Poem Published
7th Oct 2020 2:53am
7th Oct 2020 2:53am
A Conversation with my Mind
It’s October...
Where everything was starting to change....
(Good things are happening)
Life is strange....
(Good things are happening)
Ain’t shit the same....
(Good things are happening)
Great peace stems from pain....
(Good things are happening)
From blood friends to being estranged.....
(Good things are happening)
The world as we knew it was smashed, so we went insane...
(BUT GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING)
As if there’s a ride to heaven yet we all missed that train....
(BUT GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING)
All of us...
Where everything was starting to change....
(Good things are happening)
Life is strange....
(Good things are happening)
Ain’t shit the same....
(Good things are happening)
Great peace stems from pain....
(Good things are happening)
From blood friends to being estranged.....
(Good things are happening)
The world as we knew it was smashed, so we went insane...
(BUT GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING)
As if there’s a ride to heaven yet we all missed that train....
(BUT GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING)
All of us...
#anger
#mother
#brother
#conflict
#spiritual
48 reads
0 Comments
Insiderew
rew
rew
Poem Published
4th Oct 2020 8:34pm
4th Oct 2020 8:34pm
almost my face.
Relatively, he is very close,
and young sinner misses, here within,
do not mind, faced stroked by these hands, those
clean hands, fingers, sensitivitly slim.
Of course, we have been much, much closer,
as his strong knees grip around my waist
closer than twin sister and brother,
up above, my eyes, almost my face.
Questing questioning hands seek answers
my face searched intently by my eyes,
i make no protest, our eyes conversed
the reply, yes to yes, bring soft sighs.
...
and young sinner misses, here within,
do not mind, faced stroked by these hands, those
clean hands, fingers, sensitivitly slim.
Of course, we have been much, much closer,
as his strong knees grip around my waist
closer than twin sister and brother,
up above, my eyes, almost my face.
Questing questioning hands seek answers
my face searched intently by my eyes,
i make no protest, our eyes conversed
the reply, yes to yes, bring soft sighs.
...
#mother
#SelfReflection
#ForbiddenLove #son
#ForbiddenLove #son
81 reads
3 Comments
SatInUGal
Kumar
Kumar
Poem Published
30th Sep 2020 5:45am
30th Sep 2020 5:45am
MOTHER IN THESE TIMES
Your blues blend with red
Rage and transcend into a
Purple heart of light
Rage and transcend into a
Purple heart of light
#sadness
#anger
#mother
#storm
#senryu
51 reads
3 Comments
poetOftragedy
Poem Published
29th Sep 2020 8:14pm
29th Sep 2020 8:14pm
Be at peace beautiful soul
Don't be haste
I know things seem bad
But please be patient with me.
It was never my intentions
To see you grow grey
Without getting all the things you deserve,
All the sacrifices you made for me, for us
Yet here you are growing grey
haven't seen me be the best you know I can be.
Don't be haste
This life is hard
I'm trying my best to be tough
But things of this world have conquered my.
I barely sleep a wink
Thinking of means to make your life better,
To get you out of that shack into a house...
I know things seem bad
But please be patient with me.
It was never my intentions
To see you grow grey
Without getting all the things you deserve,
All the sacrifices you made for me, for us
Yet here you are growing grey
haven't seen me be the best you know I can be.
Don't be haste
This life is hard
I'm trying my best to be tough
But things of this world have conquered my.
I barely sleep a wink
Thinking of means to make your life better,
To get you out of that shack into a house...
#mother
#LifeStruggles
#TimeHeals #uplifting
#TimeHeals #uplifting
71 reads
10 Comments
Ely
E.A.Rothwell
E.A.Rothwell
Poem Published
26th Sep 2020 00:43am
26th Sep 2020 00:43am
The child chooses..
Sure...the child gets to choose…
but you choose his choices...
That's the way we do it...so...
Late one Saturday morning
a lady stopped by my studio...with her little boy…
She said to her four year old son…
Hey Johnny, wanna have your portrait done?
I cringed...cause I knew what was coming.
Well...as you might expect... Johnny said…"No!"...
Having exhausted her quiver with that one arrow… the lady was lost.for words.
So...I quickly signaled her over ...that...
we might have a chat…
...
but you choose his choices...
That's the way we do it...so...
Late one Saturday morning
a lady stopped by my studio...with her little boy…
She said to her four year old son…
Hey Johnny, wanna have your portrait done?
I cringed...cause I knew what was coming.
Well...as you might expect... Johnny said…"No!"...
Having exhausted her quiver with that one arrow… the lady was lost.for words.
So...I quickly signaled her over ...that...
we might have a chat…
...
#mother
#conflict
#art #son
#art #son
41 reads
4 Comments
cloventongue89
Poem Published
25th Sep 2020 9:10am
25th Sep 2020 9:10am
Broken Serenade
Starting from the ending
A long and drawn out farewell
Not to say goodbye just another way to tell
What words to console
Finding closure for my heart
When grieving is like an open wound
Time does its best to mend us
As blood ferments on the skin
It's not so potent as the first incision
But pain accompanies the joys intoxication
Beneath every smile is an unspoken tear
And all I can say is that I wish you were here
Did it take...
A long and drawn out farewell
Not to say goodbye just another way to tell
What words to console
Finding closure for my heart
When grieving is like an open wound
Time does its best to mend us
As blood ferments on the skin
It's not so potent as the first incision
But pain accompanies the joys intoxication
Beneath every smile is an unspoken tear
And all I can say is that I wish you were here
Did it take...
#love
#mother
#death
#heaven
#cancer
40 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems about Mother
