20 Short Poems for Mom | Mothers Day (English)

Poems for Mom
Your Mom is your first friend, your best friend, your friend forever; pick one from our selection of poems for your mother to show her how much you care.

Short Poems for Mom | Mothers Day (English)

A mother’s love determines how
We love ourselves and others.
There is no sky we'll ever see
Not lit by that first love.
Stripped of love, the universe
Would drive us mad with pain;
But we are born into a world
That greets our cries with joy.
How much I owe you for the kiss
That told me who I was!
The greatest gift--a love of life--
Lay laughing in your eyes.
Because of you my world still has
The soft grace of your smile;
And every wind of fortune bears
The scent of your caress.

The cold winds swept the mountain's height, And pathless was the dreary wild,
And mid the cheerless hours of night A mother wandered with her child:
As through the drifting snow she pressed,
The babe was sleeping on her breast.
And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on,
And deeper grew the drifting snow :
Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone.
" O God! " she cried in accents wild,
" If I must perish, save my child! "
She stripped her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm,
And round the child she wrapped the vest. And smiled to think her babe was warm.
.With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,
And sunk upon her snowy bed.
At dawn a traveller passed by,
And saw her 'neath a snowy veil; The frost of death was in her eye.
Her cheek was cold and hard and pale He moved the robe from off the child — The babe looked up and sweetly smiled !

Happiness is like a sunny day: All one's bitterness is drowned in light.
Praise be the light, though it must pass away, Perhaps because compassion needs the night.
Yet when one feels like swallowing barbed wire, More or less does nothing for the pain.
Old memories return as if on fire, Tormenting one with unforgiving shame.
How can I, who love you, come inside, Each wound to bind up with an ointment rare, Restoring the once effervescent bride
' Neath misery no happiness can spare?
So shall I sing to you of all life's beauty, Doing through the night my daytime duty.
A song of love may not bring back your noon,
Yet in your darkness, let me be your moon.

4. The Dream. HON. MRS. NORTON.
The only love which, on this teeming earth,
Asks no return for passion's wayward birth.

I know I haven’t been an easy child,
But love for you lies underneath my whims;
There is no way I could be tame or mild:
I need sometimes to shout and wave my limbs.
You're the wall I need to test my height,
The countervailing force to test my strength,
The chain I hammer at with all my might,
Even though you have increased its length.
It's tough, I know, to be both Mom and Dad,
To raise me all alone, just hit or miss;
To have to play at once good cop and bad,
And give me grief before my goodnight kiss.
But love against the odds is stronger still:
I need your fierce, proud love, and always will.

6. A Mother's Love. J. MONTGOMERY.
A mother's love,—how sweet the name!
What is a mother's love?—
A noble, pure and tender flame.
Enkindled from above.
To bless a heart of earthly mould;
The warmest love that can grow cold;—
This is a mother's love.

From the distance of our separation I see the whole of which I was a part; I see the way my temper tore your heart, And then the love beneath the laceration.
I see the landscape shaping our relation: Your fear that I might choose with little art, My anger at the dreams you would impart, The ancient paths that lead to confrontation.
But knowledge needn't linger in regret, Nor wait upon some wind to clear its sky.
We are none the worse for what is gone.
The moments that I never will forget Are those whose careless grace must make me cry, Safe within a heart forever won.

8. King Richard III., Act iv. Sc.1. SHAKESPEARE.
Hath he set bounds between their love and me?
I am their mother; who shall bar me from them?

9. Macbeth, Act iv. Sc.2. SHAKESPEARE.
The poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

To my wife on Mother’s Day,
Our habitude and light:
May you be as happy as
You make us with your love.
Winds may blow the world away,
Intent on reaching night.
For us there'll always be a home,
Everywhere you move.

There was a time not long ago when I Had neither life nor love apart from you.
All you said was absolutely true, Nor could I see myself save through your eyes.
Kids have a sense of life, but don't know why: Your love alone gave my world its hue.
Of all the things that touched me, there were few Untouched by your bright song or inner cry.
My luck, then, to be so finely loved.
Of you my world was sculpted, light and free.
The graceful architecture of your heart Had its twin whichever way I moved.
Even now, though we have lived apart, Recalling your love makes me glad to be.

12. Arora Leigh, Bk. I. E.B. BROWNING.
Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just);
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words:
Which things are corals to cut life upon,
Although such trifles.

13. THERE IS NO LOVE ENOUGH FOR ME TO GIVE YOUThere is no love enough for me to give you.
However much I feel, there should be more.
All the love an angel choir might sing you Never makes it halfway up that shore.
Know that I would burst my willing heart Your life to fill with pleasure overflowing, Or if I had the genius and the art, Undertake to paint your spirit glowing.
More beautiful than all the summer fields Or all the cornucopias of fall, The wish my insufficient passion yields Holds me with a vastness I recall.
Even as your love became my sea, Remember that the same is yours from me.

14. What Rules the World. W.R. WALLACE.
They say that man is mighty.
He governs land and sea,
He wields a mighty scepter
O'er lesser powers that be;
But a mightier power and stronger
Man from his throne has hurled,
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Children are what the mothers are. No fondest father's fondest care Can fashion so the infant heart As those creative beams that dart, With all their hopes and fears, upon The cradle of a sleeping son.
His startled eyes with wonder see A father near him on his knee,
Who wishes all the while to trace The mother in his future face; But *t is to her alone uprise His waking arms; to her those eyes Open with joy and not surprise.

You have always been where we return,
The home that is our harbor from the sea,
The place where what we are can easy be,
With nothing we need alter or unlearn.
That you would give has always been a given.
Your love for us is something simply there,
As plain and necessary as the air,
And just as unpretentious and unbidden.
And though I cannot give you now your due,
Which is beyond what these poor words can say,
I give you all I can this special day,
Which is the treasure of my love for you.

17. My Mother. JANE TAYLOR.
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother.

18. The Princess, Canto VII. A. TENNYSON.
Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall,
He shall not blind his soul with clay.

Although consumed by fury, you still loved us.
At least that is the knowledge of my heart.
Screaming like a child, you would beat us
Until you snapped, and then the tears would start.
"You know I love you," you would cry, demanding
More of us through tears than with your fist.
And we, through tears, would nod our understanding,
Too bullied in our pain to dare resist.
Yet now that you've been dead for many years,
And I have wandered through my own vast hell, I see the desperate anguish in your tears
And hope at last that I can love you well.
For only in my love can your love be
The love that once, I think, you had for me.

20. The Three Graces. S.T. COLERIDGE.
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.

Being a mother is not easy; God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers. We hope one of the poems from our selection of poems for mother will help you express how irreplaceable she is.



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Love Poems: 20 Short Poems for Mom | Mothers Day (English)
20 Short Poems for Mom | Mothers Day (English)
😊 ❤️ Your Mom is your first friend, your best friend, your friend forever; pick one from our selection of poems for your mother to show her how much you care.
Love Poems
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