Mothers Poems | Poemist

Popular Mothers Poems

Poems for Palestinian Children

by Michael R. Burch

These are poems about Palestinian children and their mothers...

Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.

......

Poems about Family, Sons and Fathers, Sons and Mothers

by Michael R. Burch

These are poems about family, poems about sons, and poems about their mothers and fathers.

Mother’s Smile
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch,
and my wife, Elizabeth Harris Burch

......

Maui, Early, a Night of Bad Dreams

by Lyn Lifshin

From before it's LIGHT

flung back, like palm fronds in
rose and guava wind
to five years ago
it could have been this
same day I
walked out from Hui Nuis,
ants, a necklace around the
bed like

......

Too Much Advice, Leave Me Alone

by Jeffrey Pipes Guice

I’m stressed out
by my narcissistic mother...
I’m stressed out
by my clueless dad...
I’m stressed out
by my bratty children...
They’re all driving me
frickin’ mad...

They all tell me

......

I Will Be Fine

by Abigail Q

I was fine. I am fine. I will be fine.
Fine is a word I have unfortunately become familiar with throughout my life, and I hope no other person comes to know the word fine the way I know it.

I was fine when I was born as the younger sibling to a sister who suffered from bleeding ears, alcoholism, and thoughts of suicide.
I am fine as the younger sibling with eating disorders, depression, and thoughts of suicide.
And I will be fine as the younger sibling, frightened beyond belief, who enters the lonely and soul consuming world of medicine.

I have accepted that I need to be the child who is fine, and I am okay with that.
I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I’m not scared. I’m not disappointed. I’m not heartbroken.
I’m fine.

......

Recent Mothers Poems

Poems for Palestinian Children

by Michael R. Burch

Sandcastles

by Mia Macias

A group of three is highly vulnerable to life, as a tripod camera is bound to tip over and shatter upon removal of any single leg. What remains is a stand of 2 legs, deemed easily disposable by any onlooker.

One day, a tripod's worst nightmare fatefully manifested and so three became two.

But to fatalistics, two is perceived only as 1 + 1, and upon the removal of one, there would equal only one. And thus, perception of our existence became an easily disposable one. Life was swept by the clumsy winds of fate, the same palm-rustling and wave-trashing breeze still heard in the dark beneath shut eyes today. The breeze which shook two in the midst of grief as they lay back to “sleep” after life swerved to a sideroad

Away from next-day good mornings and future goodnights, which were tragically spared that bad night. Driven without control over any wheel, away from the crossroads, where I see she still lies asleep each passing day. Growing smaller, and smaller with time. And where I still lie, to myself that 1 + 1 = 2 and not 3.

Where mothers of happier families fantasize about children who will one day have their own children, who may certainly live to see the children of those children.

......