Whether it be mothers day or your mom's birthday or just because - use one of our Mom poems to celebrate and recognize your Mom. Reach out to your mom and share your love. Find several poems about Mothers here to help you in your search.
Written from the heart, written by your son
I wouldn't trade you Mother, no, not for anyone!
Thank you for your support, thank you for your love
God look down on me and sent me
you, an angel from above.
There are many types of love, that's true
Some make us happy, some make us blue
But my love for my Mother will be
A love that comes so naturally.
No matter what, she is always there
Loving me and full of care.
I love you Mom!
Happy Mother's Day to You
Thank you for all you do.
You alway show love, support and care
And always are concerned for our welfare
Mom, we love you so
We just want you to know
You're the best Mom one could have
We wouldn't trade you for another.
In this world’s gay throng of fashion, oft we meet with ladies grand, With fame and
style and oh such beauty sculptured by rare nature’s hand. Mingled with their
cultured talents and their cunningness to please Lurk the charms that please so
many men of all – degrees. Thus we learn to cherish them dearly, also father,
sister, sweetheart, brother; But grander visions loom to memory when we hear the
name of mother.
She who toiled so long and faithful yet had pleasant smiles to wear She who tried to
make others happy though she had to grin and bear; Many burdens tried her
patience as they came anew each day, With the same sweet smile that greeted us,
as we would hear her say Consoling words to comfort, when all others were in
vain, While we loved to have her near us, whenever we were in pain.
We learn to honor these kind deeds mostly after she is gone, And her gray hair lies
mouldering beneath some grassy lawn. ‘Tis then we long for one short look into
that dear old face, And for one brief spell, just those careworn marks to trace,
So wandering down life’s weary stream we are asking one another If there’s any
human being that can take the place of mother.
But, ah! She like the flowers doth bloom and fade; Too soon she departs to the realms of
shade, Though after she withers and goes back to dust, We do not forget her but
long for her thus. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, is lisped from one shore to
the other; Mother, mother, dear, sweet mother, what is home without a mother.
Only A Day With Mother’s
Poet: Ella Z. Harris
Say, Time, I’ve a bargain to make with you; Take one whole year of roses and rue, Give me a
day in its place – A day you will find in the past somewhere. With sunshine and
springtime and all things fair Centered in one sweet face.
O Time, you
have cheated me through the years, Stolen my laughter and left me your tears,
While signs I must vainly smother. My life is sad ‘neath its load of woe,
My days are gray and the years move slow – Give me one glad day with mother.
For I know bright hours would come again, Joy would conquer my heart’s strong pain, Could a
boon be mine like this, My youth’s illusions, now lost and dead, Would return
with her touch on my aching head, And the world grow new with her kiss.
One whole year of shadow and night – What a bargain is this for one day of light! You will
never find such another. Take what you will of sorrow and bloom, Call back a
voice from the silent tomb – Give me a day with mother.
The One Dear Name
Name that tis breathed on battlefields, And from the dying bed; Name that we chisel on the
stone Above our holiest dead; Name that twe lisped in infancy, The first we
learned to call; Name that endures when memory Can naught but that recall;
Name that means rest and tenderness Our lips can frame no other – So precious that
‘tis half divine – The blessed name of Mother
The White Carnation
Poet: Margaret E. Sangster
Here’s to the white carnation, Sturdy and spicy and sweet, Wafting a breath of perfume
On the stony way of the street; Bringing a freight of gladness Whenever the breezes
blow; Here’s to the white carnation, Pure as the virgin snow.
This is the flower for mother, Wear it on Mothers’ Day; Flower for rain and sunshine, Winsome, gallant and gay,
Wear it in mother’s honor, Pinned to the coat’s lapel; Wear it in belt and courage,
For her that you love so well.
For mother in lowly cabin, Or mother in palace hall, Is ever the truest and dearest,
And ever the best of all. In travail and pain she bore us, In laughter and love she
nursed, And who that would shame the mother Is of all mankind accursed.
Tired and wan to often, Weary and weak at times, But always full of the courage
That thrills when the future chimes. Mother with hands toil-hardened, Mother in
pearls and lace, The light of heavenly beauty Shines in her tender face.
So here’s to the white carnation, Wear it on Mothers’ Day; Flower that blooms for mother, Winsome, gallant and gay.
Flower of a perfect sweetness, Flower for hut and
hall, Here’s to the white carnation, And to mother – our best of all.
A Mother's Place
No earthly friend can fill a mother's place!
There is an instinct love, an added sense,
Within a mother's breast, that draweth hence
Rare quickness of perception, to discern
Her offspring's wants. She needeth not to learn
By voice or gesture. Swift her footsteps glide.
Noiseless as Silence's self; and at the side
Of her beloved one, with love's strength inspired,
She is content to watch for hours untired -
To move the weary limb, and soft recline
The aching head; the language of a sigh.
Wishes unshaped in words, by glance or sign,
Quick to interpret and to gratify.
When Mother Prayed
Poet: Melville Miller
Somehow God always seemed so real,
Somehow I could not doubt, nor feel
That God was ever far away,
When I could hear my mother pray;
Somehow when she would kneel in prayer,
God always seemed to meet her there.
When she would kneel beside my bed,
With her dear hands upon my head,
My little heart would cease to fear,
And God would seem to come so near;
Somehow, someway, when Mother prayed,
I could not, dared not, feel afraid.
And when she prayed for him to keep
Me through the night, and give me sleep
And rest until the break of day,
I felt that it must be, someway;
That round about me was his arm,
And he could keep me safe from harm.
When Mother prayed! O precious hour,
When God would come in mighty power!
O memory sweet! O hallowed place
Where God did shine in Mother's face!
Somehow in prayer she found such rest;
Somehow her soul God always blest.
When Mother prayed! Ah, then I knew
Within my soul that God is true;
I could no longer doubt his love;
And, yielding all, born from above,
My soul was filled with peace divine,
And mother's God was thenceforth mine.
This poem describes some of the trials and tribulations of being a mother and how things can get a little out of hand sometimes
but ultimately our mothers want the best for us and how we need to remember they are only human and we need to be patient with them just like they
are so very patient with us!
Be Patient With Your Mother
Poet: Dr. T. Wilkins
Do not speak cross to your mother, though your angry
heart may break.
For you do not know the hours she has suffered for your
And you cannot tell what moment that her earthly sun
Then for every cross word spoken you will carry a regret.
Her old heart is often breaking and her eyes oft filled
While her thoughts are for her children in the coming of
Her kind spirit shows no falter in the duty to her own.
And her bosom covers sorrows by her children never
All grandchildren are her idols, aye, far more to her than
And though sometime while correcting she may get real
cross and scold,
There is always warm and tender in her voice's undertone
That deep feeling of affection that true mothers only own.
Oft her language may be cutting when her nerves are all
But be patient, she's your mother, and her nerves are not
She was patient, kind and gentle to her children in the
And it is a bounden duty that they love her to the last.
She may scold you as she used to in the days that are
Till it wounds your very spirit and you feel that you must
But be patient with your mother, yes, be calm e'en then
For she loves you and can linger with you but a little
Kindly make her life a heaven while she stays upon the
If you have the kind of spirit to appreciate your birth.
Through the sunshine and the shadows of this life she
And your love and sweetest kindness to your mother is