BEST AND WISEST MOM - by Joanna Fuchs

 

BEST  AND  WISEST  MOM by  Joanna Fuchs Mom, I wish I had words to tellHow much you mean to me.I am the person I am today,Because you let me be. Your unconditional loveMade me happy, strong, secure.Your teaching and exampleMade me confident, mature. In all the world, there is no motherBetter than my own.You're the best and wisest person, MomI have ever known.

FOR THE LOVE OF MOTHER - by Justine King

 

FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  MOTHER by  Justine King  When I was a child, My mommy could do anything. Scare away monsters, Make bubbles in the bath, Kiss away the hurt from a booboo. Sometimes she was too busy to play, But that was ok. Games weren't really her thing anyway. When I was a preteen, My mom could do a lot of things. Paint my nails, Braid my hair, Teach me about makeup. Sometimes she got frustrated with me, But that was ok. I was pretty pokey. When I was a teenager, My mother couldn't do anything right! Bail me out of trouble, Buy me cool enough clothes, Let me stay out late. Sometimes she tried to control me, And I hated it! She couldn't mind her own business. Now that I'm an adult, I realize that my mother is human. She paid bills, Raised children, And always got supper on the table. Sometimes she messed up, But that was ok. She did her best, and always, always loved us.

COMING HOME - by Ellen P. Allerton

 

COMING  HOME by  Ellen P. Allerton     Home to my mother's door. Push back the lock,     She will not open it - no use to knock.     A weight is on my breast; oh ! never yet     Daughter at mother's door such welcome met!     No kiss upon my lips; no word, no sound,     No loving arms reach out to clasp me round,     I cross the threshold to a solemn room,     Peopled with shadows, silent as the tomb.     The heavy air is chill - no fire, no light;     Only pale sunshine, streaming thin and white     Through the bare panes upon the naked floor.     I shrink and shiver - do not shut the door !     Tread lightly on the creaking boards, speak low;     Start not the hollow echoes; well I know     They sleep in every corner. Do not call,     Lest they should answer loudly, one and all.     Her voice is still. 'Twas here I heard it last -      Here by the door. The tears fell thick and fast     From both our eyes; today the drops run o'er     From only mine; and she - she weeps no more.     This was her bed-room; it was here, you say,     She laid in silence all that summer day,     With roses (how she loved them!) at her head,     Wreathed on the wall and strewn upon her bed.     Now she lies yonder, and a sombre pall     The dead leaves weave above her as they fall;     The rains that beat, the autumn Winds that blow,     Are making ready heavy shrouds of snow.     Whatever covers her, she still sleeps well;     But oh! these silent rooms! I can not tell     Why their cold emptiness should move me so;     I can not bear it longer - let us go.

I MISS YOU (to my Aunt) - by Bob Shank

I  MISS  YOU   (to my Aunt) by Bob Shank silhouettes dance within my heart casting omnipresent shadows of you and yet there remains an echo an eerie silence of loneliness deafened by dreaded emptiness in a place you once tread those boyhood memories remain absence the fondness you shared the gentleness of your touch supported by words of compassion always teaching, reaching no longer can I feel you though I see you daily from visions of the past my soul aches to know how long does death last....

DEAR CHILD - by F Tired

DEAR  CHILD  by  F Tired Dear child I'm sorry Sorry for downing smokes While you depended on me for life Sorry for drinking the little I did While you needed me Sorry for anything I did to lose you Before i knew you existed I'm sorry for all the things I did wrong That may have made me lose you I don't know what you were going to be Son Daughter But I knew No I know one thing Even though your gone Your still my baby I'm sorry you never got a proper name Only shartbait But I love you just the same. I remember when I first saw you Unfortunately you never saw me You looked off too me But I still loved you the same Im sorry you didn't get a proper send off. I didn't know what to do with you You didn't even have legs I wish I'd done more then flush you. I regret it everyday. But just know I still love you And I still cry some days for you. I hope wherever you are You can forgive me. Because I'll always love you. It was only  two short months But I'll always love you Regretfully Your mother

HE IS MY LITTLE BABY BOY - by Kira D. McClerkin

HE  IS  MY  LITTLE  BABY  BOY by  Kira D. McClerkin  He is my little baby boy A boy so loved and comforted in life, who thinks that one day this little boy might have a wife? When he sleeps a calm peace sweeps him away, the sight of his sweet little face makes you want to proudly say That's MY baby boy, and I love him SOO much So smart for a boy of two, he knows what a cow looks like and can make noises like one too! When he plays with his toys he makes the biggest smile, makes it double the worth to watch him all the while. Sometimes he screams and it hurts so bad, but to hold him in my arms I suddenly don't feel so sad. But it's always worth it to me, to know he will make happy and beautiful memories, for me to look back at and see....... how happy this little boy made me! Who knew one child could bring such love and joy to me? When he gets older he will be the one to see, not only did he bring love, happiness, and laughter to me, he brought it to everyone he could possibly see!

MY MOTHER'S HANDS - by Ellen M. Huntington Gates

MY  MOTHER'S  HANDS by   Ellen M. Huntington Gates Such beautiful, beautiful hands! Not wondrous white nor small, And you, I know, would scarcely say That they were fair at all. I've looked on hands, whose form and hue A sculptor's dream might be; Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands More beautiful to me. Such beautiful, beautiful hands! Though heart were weary and sad, These patient hands kept toiling on, That the children might be glad. And I could weep, as looking back To childhood's distant day, I think how these hands rested not, When mine were at their play. Such beautiful, beautiful hands! They're growing feeble now, For time and pain have left their mark On hand and heart and brow. Alas! alas! the nearing time And the lonesome day for me, When 'neath the grasses, out of sight, These hands will folded be. But far beyond this shadow-land,  And many a friend is there  I know full well, these dear old hands Will palms of victory bear! Where crystal streams, eternally Flow over golden sands, And where the old are young again I'll clasp my mother's hands! Such beautiful, beautiful hands! Not wondrous white nor small, And you, I know, would scarcely say That they were fair at all. I've looked on hands, whose form and hue A sculptor's dream might be; Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands More beautiful to me. Such beautiful, beautiful hands! Though heart were weary and sad, These patient hands kept toiling on, That the children might be glad. And I could weep, as looking back To childhood's distant day, I think how these hands rested not, When mine were at their play. Such beautiful, beautiful hands! They're growing feeble now, For time and pain have left their mark On hand and heart and brow. Alas! alas! the nearing time And the lonesome day for me, When 'neath the grasses, out of sight, These hands will folded be. But far beyond this shadow-land,  And many a friend is there  I know full well, these dear old hands Will palms of victory bear! Where crystal streams, eternally Flow over golden sands, And where the old are young again I'll clasp my mother's hands!

NEVER FORGET - by Crystal Lee Ott

NEVER  FORGET by   Crystal  Lee  Ott Thank you so much, Mom  for everything you do,  thank you for the gift of life,  and thank you for being you. I want you to know that every day  that you stand by my side,  it helps me see my wisdom,  and it helps me see my pride. I want to thank you for letting me  have someone to tell my problems to,  thank you for letting me see who I am. You've made me become a very beautiful person  and you believed in me,  you helped me see the ways of life,  you helped me see who I could be. One day I will become  everything you've ever dreamed, I promise you this, And with that promise secrets behold, you have the special key to my heart which only you can unfold. I know I'll make the best of my life because I know that you did yours, and once again I want to thank you  for letting me walk through life's doors.

BIRTH MOTHER - by Srilata Krishnan

BIRTH  MOTHER by Srilata Krishnan   We are standing in front of the mirror, my daughter and I, brushing our hair and being vain when I think of the doctor’s question: “What was her birth cry like?” I don’t know and never will. She is fine, or will be, I know. But looking in the mirror and into her almond eyes, I wonder what she is like – her birth mother – if she too, was once, afraid of words and of the fluttering of pigeons, if she has nicely formed arches on her feet and whether or not her eyebrows make a bow for good luck, if she is small and slender-waisted, if she is anything like my daughter, or was. Strange, but I don’t wonder at all about the father. I tug at her pony. “Amma, let’s go”, she urges into a mirror that is slowly swallowing her birth mother. Our eyes meet in that eye of a little god and she smiles the sort of smile that is like mine.

A MOTHER'S SONG - by Susan Noyes Anderson

A  MOTHER'S  SONG   by Susan Noyes Anderson I took you in my arms the day you came into this world. Around your head, it almost seemed that bits of heaven swirled. I nurtured you and cared for you and read you  “Goodnight, Moon.” But then your life came calling. You slipped away too soon.

WHAT MOTHERS ARE MADE OF - by Joshua Hazel Delphine

WHAT  MOTHERS  ARE  MADE  OF  by Joshua Hazel Delphine The blossom of a sunflower, bright as a smile That's what mothers are made of. The bonsai tree, still with dignity and posture That's what mothers are made of. The heart of a million white-winged angels That's what mothers are made of. The awareness and protectiveness of a moon-eyed wolf That's what mothers are made of. A face more beautiful than a symphony  That's what mothers are made of. Their voice is like a river,  running over the smooth stones that massage its body, while sunbeams bounce off of its cool surface. Their love is unbound by physical laws and obstacles.  Their words are a book of life's lessons. Their knowledge is like an ocean with an endless horizon which is never reached or contacted-  but absorbed. That is what My Mother is made of.

LITTLE BOY - by Pamala Kay Juka-Wilson

LITTLE  BOY  by Pamala Kay Juka-Wilson God has blessed me with a beautiful gift,  words cannot express the depths of my joy. And for this I have only one wish,  that your father could see his little boy. I know, one day soon, there will come a time  and you'll sit on my lap and i'll listen. Your big brown eyes will look up into mine,  as you tell me of how much you miss him.

GRANDMA'S WINGS - by Ricky R. Hernandez

GRANDMA'S  WINGS  by  Ricky R. Hernandez Grandma, I wonder where you keep your wings. Are they hung in your closet with the rest of your things? Do you put them away and just use them at night or give them to Rosie to polish up bright. I know you have wings, for this must be true, 'cause God always gives them to Angels just like you.