Have you ever encountered a poem that took your breath away, prompting your hand to instinctively clutch your heart? Here are four poems that did exactly that for me…
What Children Say
by Kate Baer
I can’t reach my cup, my water bottle,
the snack up on the shelf. I can’t do
it. I won’t do it. I would never do it
in a million years. You need to assist
me. Help me quicker. Do it the way
I requested. I don’t like pizza or
watermelon. I don’t like anything I
liked before. I do not want it. I do
not need it. I will never move up off
this floor. Do not help me. Do not
hold me. Do not sit down beside my
bed. I’m not sleeping. I’m not tired.
I’m too scared to drift off. You must
hold me. You must rock me. Do not
leave me all alone. I am thirsty. I am
hungry. I am too tired to put my toys
away. Do not be angry. Do not begin
singing. Where is the butterfly I drew?
I’m still hungry. I’m still playing. Will
you leave me? Will you stay?
The Lanyard
by Billy Collins
<pThe other day I was slowly ricocheting
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if submerged from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I stumbled upon the L section in the dictionary
where my gaze fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could evoke nostalgia so sharply—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a present for my mother.
I had never observed anyone using a lanyard
or wearing one, if that’s how you used them,
but that didn’t prevent me from crossing
strand over strand over and over
until I had crafted a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and sustenance from her breasts,
and I reciprocated with a lanyard.
She nursed me through many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cool face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me into the airy light.
She taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in return, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are countless meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a solid education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little assistance from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to observe the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I crafted at camp.
And here, I wish to express to her now,
is a smaller gift — not the tired truth
that one can never repay their mother,
but the bittersweet realization that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as certain as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless creation I wove
out of boredom would be sufficient to balance our scales.
The Committee Weighs In
by Andrea Cohen
I tell my mother
I’ve won the Nobel Prize.
Again? she queries. Which
discipline this time?
It’s a little game
we play: I pretend
I’m someone, she
pretends she isn’t gone.
Mother, a Cradle to Hold Me
by Maya Angelou
It is true
I was born in you.
It is also true
That you were made for me.
I owned your voice.
It was crafted and tuned to comfort me.
Your arms were formed
Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
The scent of your body was the air
Scented for me to inhale.
Mother,
During those early, precious days
I did not realize that you had
A grand life that encompassed me,
For I had a life
Which was solely you.
Time flowed steadily and pulled us apart.
I was reluctant.
I dreaded if I let you go
You would abandon me forever.
You smiled at my worries, saying
I could not remain in your lap eternally.
That one day you would need to rise
And where would I be?
You smiled again.
I did not.
Without warning you departed from me,
But you returned immediately.
You left again and returned,
I concede, swiftly,
But relief did not settle with me easily.
You left again, but returned once more.
You left again, but reentered again.
Each time you came back into my life
You brought reassurance.
Gradually, I gained confidence.
You believed you knew me,
But I did know you,
You thought you were observing me,
But I did hold you firmly in my vision,
Recording every instance,
Memorizing your smiles, tracing your frowns.
In your absence
I rehearsed you,
The way you sang
On a breeze,
While a sob lay
At the root of your melody.
The way you positioned your head
So that the light could caress your face
When you placed your fingers on my hand
And your hand on my arm,
I was graced with a sense of health,
Of strength and incredible fortune.
You were always
the heart of joy for me,
Bringing nuggets of delight,
Sweets of open laughter.
I loved you even during the years
When you were oblivious
And I was all-knowing, I loved you still.
Condescendingly, of course,
From my lofty perch
Of teenage wisdom.
I spoke harshly about you, often
Because you were slow to comprehend.
I grew older and
Was amazed to find
How much wisdom you had acquired.
And so rapidly.
Mother, I have learned enough now
To realize I have learned nearly nothing.
On this day
When mothers are being celebrated,
Let me express my gratitude
That my selfishness, ignorance, and mockery
Did not lead you to
Cast me aside like a discarded doll
Which had lost its charm.
I thank you that
You still see something in me
To cherish, to admire and to love.
I thank you, Mother.
I love you.
What parenting poems — or other poems — touch your heart? I feel overwhelmed with emotion after reading these; I’m taking deep gulps! Also, if you’re interested, the book Poetry Is Not a Luxury was released this weekend — curated by the anonymous individual behind the Instagram account of the same name. xo
P.S. My motherhood mantra, and how romantic is this poem?
(Photos, from top, by Koganami Studio, Dream Lover, Felix Chacon, J.Anthony; all through Stocksy.)
**Four Touching Poems Honoring the Essence of Motherhood**
Motherhood is a path of unwavering love, relentless commitment, and deep emotional richness. From the initial lullaby to the multitude of silent sacrifices, mothers influence our lives in ways both evident and hidden. Poetry, due to its capability to encapsulate emotion in its most authentic form, provides a lovely medium to honor and celebrate the core of motherhood. Below are four touching poems that pay homage to the strength, tenderness, and lasting love of mothers everywhere.
—
**1. “A Mother’s Hug”**
In the stillness of night, when dreams take wing,
She whispers peace through every sting.
A soothing caress, a gentle song,
A steady presence when things go wrong.
Her arms, a refuge from the strife,
Her heart, a flame that kindles life.
No words can equal her silent grace,
The love that time can’t displace.
This poem embodies the nurturing and protective essence of a mother’s love. It underscores the quiet strength and solace that mothers provide, often unrecognized, and how their presence creates a haven for their children.
—
**2. “The First Mentor”**
Before I knew the world beyond,
You taught me how to laugh and respond.
You revealed the stars and fueled my dreams,
And stitched my spirit with loving seams.
You showed me right, you showed me wrong,
You were my safety, steadfast and strong.
Each lesson wrapped in love so pure—
My first mentor, always for sure.
This poem acknowledges the role of mothers as our first instructors. From teaching fundamental life skills to instilling values and aspirations, mothers lay the groundwork for who we are destined to become. Their teachings, often conveyed through love and example, remain with us a lifetime.
—
**3. “Hands That Cherish”**
Hands that lifted me when I stumbled,
That dried my tears and wished me humbled.
Hands that toiled from dawn to dusk,
Yet found the strength to hold me with trust.
They’ve aged with time, now softened and worn,
But still they comfort, still they adorn.
In every line, love is imprinted—
The tale of your hands that have not splintered.
This poem pays homage to the physical and emotional contributions of motherhood. A mother’s hands signify care, dedication, and lasting support. Throughout every life phase, those hands continue to provide strength and reassurance.
—
**4. “Resonance of Her Love”**
Though years may glide and paths may diverge,
Her love still resonates in my surge.
In every decision, in every dread,
Her voice, her wisdom, stays widespread.
She lives in laughter, lives in sighs,
In whispered dreams across the skies.
Though time may alter the world we observe,
It cannot dim a mother’s verve.
This final poem contemplates the enduring influence of a mother’s love, even as children mature and life evolves. It conveys the timeless bond between mother and child—a love that transcends time and separation.
—
**Conclusion**
These four poems present a glimpse into the intricate beauty of motherhood. Whether through nurturing love, lifelong teachings, tireless efforts, or enduring affection, mothers leave an indelible imprint on our souls. Poetry allows us to express thanks and admiration in a deeply resonant way, reminding us of the quiet bravery and infinite love that characterize motherhood.
