Mother to Son Poems You Will Find Very Charming and Sweet
These are Mother to Son Poems You Will Find Very Charming and Sweet. A poem can offer an amazingly easy way to share your thoughts when you are searching for the right words to let your son tell how you feel. You can always write a poem, but you don’t have to stress if you are not the ingenious type.
Mother to Son Poems
There are plenteous poems already written by famous poets and moms that can help you express what is in your heart and mind.
Mother and Son
My son
I am here
I cannot protect you
From the world.
My son
I am here
I can only love you
No matter whatMy son
I am here
My love unconditional
On this you can relyMy son
I am here
To guide and to teach you
And now you must flyMy son
I am here
Life can be difficult
I hear your cryMy son
I am here
Changes are painful
Never forget who you areMy son
I am here
Maintain the faith
In yourself and in God
My son
I am here
Self acceptance is yours
Do not fearMy son
I am here
By, Rose Falcone
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Life for Me is a Crystal Stair
Life for me has been a Crystal Stair.
It has perfect levels,
that can take me to a different Sun light.
A light from the inner Son of the Father.
Stairs that can show you an image of the Divine. Stairs of hope. Stairs
that renovates the broken stairs of our past.No tacks, splinters, or torn up boards. The stairs of old were no
Crystal Stair. No balance. No chance to elevate toward the great escape
of being scattered. My Crystal Stair takes all footsteps to love, and
all humans to the source. I will tell you that life for me is a Crystal
Stair, that takes me upon myriads and myriads of Ang ELs. Stairs of
opportunity, and stairs of truth. Home is on top of the Rock of Ages.
Where pages of life is read by sages. I can’t stop now, I must keep on
climbing. The stairway to Heaven.My Crystal Stairs.
By, Josephe Buchanan
Ah Mother and Son
Ah mother and son
going through the forest of life,
in their times going on
in life’s work and strife.
Not much time for each dreaming
for time flowers are falling,
and sunsets glow beaming
as the winter is calling.Ah mother my day
I long just to be with you,
for you are my way
to follow and get through.
Ah son I love you
you are me all inside,
when the times are blue
and winter nights abideAh together we go
through the forest of rain,
falling leaves they glow
with their sorrow and pain.
But we are still here
within all our dreams,
our souls are everywhere
like water that streams.
By, Peter S. Quinn
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Mother and Son (Mother to Son Poems)
Syracuse got news:
‘There’s a birth on the ship’
Ship’s stopped, no engine
Rock’s pier
Sea is bed to high waves
It can take moss and weed, and the ship
There she is; in bloodAnd baby few days; with the cord
(Not yet cut; no scissors; no sharp knife)
The crew has escaped
Did they know what was best?
(Like Moses in basket on the Nile)
Cat’s cradle; Syria and the wars
Toys and games; New mother
And threads on sticks; end in West
In Moscow, Washington, in Europe
Had to move ‘Safe place.’
Europe shouts ‘Go back home.’
(To mountains of fire)
I cry; later laugh; in madhouse
‘What is what? ‘
‘What is this? ‘
‘Who is right? ‘
Is there God?
Which is right Jehovah, Lord’s Father, or Allah?
Arab Spring was in line for Bashar
Made ISIS
‘It smells; it is bomb’
New game, like Saddam’sWho answers to this child?
Born on ship, abandoned next to rock
First called girl; later boy with his cord
What grows in his soil?
Hate or love?
Is he alone?
What about forty eight children and many
Tens; thousands…Sicily
By, Nassy Fesharaki
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Son, I Owe All My Gray Hairs to You
I had brown hair when you were born,
But that didn’t last very long.
I owe my gray hairs to you, my boy,
And I’ll remind you how I got each one.Those gray hairs at my temples
All came from the time you went fishing
In your Daddy’ expensive saltwater tank,
And some of those fish are still missing.Those gray hairs along my hairline
Are not highlights I got from my beautician.
They appeared when you tore through the neighbor’s garden
Like you were on a search and destroy mission.That smattering of gray you see
Growing right out of my crown
Is a souvenir I got from that wedding
Where you hurled on the bride’s fancy gown.They say gray hair is a mom’s badge of honor,
And that may very well be true,
But I wouldn’t trade them for all the world,
If it meant one less second with you.
By, Kelly Roper
Mother And Son
I’d known her all my life,
nursed her for seven years
night and dayyet when last night I lay down to sleep
I heard myself say
as if to someone else,what a splendid lady,
I wish I’d known her better
By, Michael Shepherd
8. Mother To Son (Mother to Son Poems)
My son has belled the CAT,
But he wants to study at Rotterdam.
I quizzed why you want to go away
, When you have got into top MBA programme,Right here so near home.
Please don’t leave us alone.
He said, ‘ Mom the global exposure
I will get there won’t be possible in Indore.I will be studying with an international community,
With Nobel laureates on the faculty.
It will give an enriching experience.’
But son we will be poorer by several lakhs.He looked at me with concern in his eyes,
And said I don’t want to stress you guys.
Maybe then I should study here,
I felt happy just to hear,That he was willing to compromise
On his long cherished dreams.
I patted his back and said to him,
Go out into the world and spread your wings.But always remember,
Your roots are here.
Come back home after you have broadened
Your horizons.Right now India is a happening place,
And I hear is attracting lots of expats.
It will be a good idea
To explore your options here.Set up your own enterprise,
This is my parting advice.
Come back and make your country proud
Just don’t end being a part of the crowd.CAT is an entrance exam for top buisness scools in India
By, Mamta Agarwal
To A Mother the Son does not Grow Adult
Mother, is the living shrine,
To her eye the son remains ever green,
Whole the world is aware of the son,
The mother’s eye never transforms from the morn.The son stations to adult hood,
He gets equipped with different moods,
He learns the black art of daily change,
He experiences the relation-mystery widening his range.The mother’s dictionary reads only the baby innocent,
For she gets wrapped in her feelings essence,
She finds no fault with the boy,
And sees him playing with childhood toy.To a son the mother remains as an oasis,
In his good and evil she remains as a spontaneous bliss.
For, from her being the son comes on the earth,
Learns her smile, her words, and life’s rope with fountain mirth.When the son feels sorrow the mother cries,
In son’s evil days, with all her soothing she tries,
Her heart and mind like fresh wind, find passage to son’s wellbeing,
She is the earthly goddess, the divine image, life’s rarest thing.
By, Subrata Ray
Mother and Son (Mother to Son Poems)
I must be less
than eighteen months old—
naked, in my mother’s arms,
face pressed against hers
as if danger was nearby.We’re standing
in an empty field
with a hill in the background.
Thistles and weeds
grow around us, at our feet.
The sky’s a total blank.With my arms wrapped
around her neck
she is smiling a smile of pure love.
You can see it in her eyes.
Her feet are planted
firmly on the ground.
Her floral dress hangs in folds.
There is something courageous
in the way she stands.The setting is a Displaced Persons’ camp
in northern Germany
after the end of World War II.
She has no husband
and I have no father.
Does it make a difference
to how we feel?Fifty-two years later,
on the night before she dies,
my mother will tell me his name
and the details of our lives.
(While she spoke
I asked few questions—
was content to let her say
what she wanted to
and what she didn’t . . . )All that matters to me
is that smile of pure love;
all the money in the world
couldn’t buy it
and it would never be for sale.Today, I stare for hours
at the photograph
and wonder who took it and why,
of a mother standing
with her son in her arms,
in a Displaced Persons’ camp—
in northern Germany
after there’s been a World War—
in a field of weeds and thistles,
under a blank sky.
By, Peter Skrzynecki
A mother having a son in a distanced country doesn’t mean she can’t express her love the her son in words. That is the love of poem and I believe you will always check back in to get more inspiring poems. Don’t forget to share with your friends.
Daily Time Poems.