Mom Poems - Poems For Mom

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  • 13.
    Kaddish, Part I

    Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
    the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
    downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking,
    talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
    shout blind on the phonograph
    the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after--
    And read Adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing
    how we suffer--
    And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
    prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
    swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--
    Dreaming back thru life, Your time--and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
    lypse,
    the final moment--the flower burning in the Day--and what comes after,
    looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
    a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
    Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--
    like a poem in the dark--escaped back to Oblivion--
    No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
    trapped in its disappearance,
    sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
    ping each other,
    worshipping the God included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it
    lasts, a Vision--anything more?
    It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
    Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
    dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and
    the sky above--an old blue place.
    or down the Avenue to the south, to--as I walk toward the Lower East Side
    --where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from Russia, eating the
    first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
    then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?--toward
    Newark--
    toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
    cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards--
    Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
    and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?
    Toward the Key in the window--and the great Key lays its head of light
    on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
    sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
    the Yiddish Theater--and the place of poverty
    you knew, and I know, but without caring now--Strange to have moved
    thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
    with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
    the street, firs escapes old as you
    --Tho you're not old now, that's left here with me--
    Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and I guess that dies with
    us--enough to cancel all that comes--What came is gone forever
    every time--
    That's good!That leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove,
    torture even toothache in the end--
    Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul,
    in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair
    and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
    braintricked Implacability.
    Ai! ai!we do worse! We are in a fix!And you're out, Death let you out,
    Death had the Mercy, you're done with your century, done with
    God, done with the path thru it--Done with yourself at last--Pure
    --Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all--before the
    world--
    There, rest.No more suffering for you.I know where you've gone, it's good.
    No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more
    fear of Louis,
    and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts,
    loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands--
    No more of sister Elanor,--she gone before you--we kept it secret you
    killed her--or she killed herself to bear with you--an arthritic heart
    --But Death's killed you both--No matter--
    Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and
    weeks--forgetting, agrieve watching Marie Dressler address human-
    ity, Chaplin dance in youth,
    or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin's at the Met, halling his voice of a weeping Czar
    --by standing room with Elanor & Max--watching also the Capital
    ists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds,
    with the YPSL's hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts
    pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and
    laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920
    all girls grown old, or dead now, and that long hair in the grave--lucky to
    have husbands later--
    You made it--I came too--Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and
    will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer--or kill
    --later perhaps--soon he will think--)
    And it's the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now
    --tho not you
    I didn't foresee what you felt--what more hideous gape of bad mouth came
    first--to you--and were you prepared?
    To go where?In that Dark--that--in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the
    Void?Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream?Adonoi at last, with
    you?
    Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull
    in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon--Deaths-
    head with Halo?can you believe it?
    Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence,
    than none ever was?
    Nothing beyond what we have--what you had--that so pitiful--yet Tri-
    umph,
    to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower--fed to the
    ground--but made, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe,
    shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth
    wrapped, sore--freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless.
    No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the
    knife--lost
    Cut down by an idiot Snowman's icy--even in the Spring--strange ghost
    thought some--Death--Sharp icicle in his hand--crowned with old
    roses--a dog for his eyes--cock of a sweatshop--heart of electric
    irons.
    All the accumulations of life, that wear us out--clocks, bodies, consciousness,
    shoes, breasts--begotten sons--your Communism--'Paranoia' into
    hospitals.
    You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later.You of
    stroke.Asleep?within a year, the two of you, sisters in death.Is
    Elanor happy?
    Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over
    midnight Accountings, not sure.His life passes--as he sees--and
    what does he doubt now?Still dream of making money, or that might
    have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Im-
    mortality, Naomi?
    I'll see him soon.Now I've got to cut through to talk to you as I didn't
    when you had a mouth.
    Forever.And we're bound for that, Forever like Emily Dickinson's horses
    --headed to the End.
    They know the way--These Steeds--run faster than we think--it's our own
    life they cross--and take with them.

    Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, mar-
    ried dreamed, mortal changed--Ass and face done with murder.
    In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under
    pine, almed in Earth, blamed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
    Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless,
    Father in death.Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I'm
    hymnless, I'm Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
    Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not
    light or darkness, Dayless Eternity--
    Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some
    of my Time, now given to Nothing--to praise Thee--But Death
    This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Won-
    derer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping
    --page beyond Psalm--Last change of mine and Naomi--to God's perfect
    Darkness--Death, stay thy phantoms!

    II
    Over and over--refrain--of the Hospitals--still haven't written your
    history--leave it abstract--a few images
    run thru the mind--like the saxophone chorus of houses and years--
    remembrance of electrical shocks.
    By long nites as a child in Paterson apartment, watching over your
    nervousness--you were fat--your next move--
    By that afternoon I stayed home from school to take care of you--
    once and for all--when I vowed forever that once man disagreed with my
    opinion of the cosmos, I was lost--
    By my later burden--vow to illuminate mankind--this is release of
    particulars--(mad as you)--(sanity a trick of agreement)--
    But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and
    spied a mystical assassin from Newark,
    So phoned the Doctor--'OK go way for a rest'--so I put on my coat
    and walked you downstreet--On the way a grammarschool boy screamed,
    unaccountably--'Where you goin Lady to Death'? I shuddered--
    and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask
    against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by Grandma--
    And was the driver of the cheesebox Public Service bus a member of
    the gang?You shuddered at his face, I could hardly get you on--to New
    York, very Times Square, to grab another Greyhound-- read more »

  • 14.
    Rock Me To sleep

    Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight;
    Make me a child again, just for tonight!
    Mother, come back from that echoless shore; read more »

  • 15.
    Mother

    Your love was like moonlight
    turning harsh things to beauty,
    so that little wry souls read more »

  • 16.
    The Song Of The Old Mother

    I RISE in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
    Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
    And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
    Till stars are beginning to blink and peep; read more »

  • 17.
    won't you celebrate with me

    won't you celebrate with me
    what i have shaped into
    a kind of life? i had no model.
    born in babylon read more »

  • 18.
    A Mother's Love -new-

    A Mother's love is something
    that no on can explain,
    It is made of deep devotion
    and of sacrifice and pain, read more »

  • 19.
    Mother Doesn't Want a Dog

    Mother doesn't want a dog.
    Mother says they smell,
    And never sit when you say sit,
    Or even when you yell. read more »

  • 20.
    For My Mother -new-

    Once more
    I summon you
    Out of the past
    With poignant love, read more »

  • 21.
    To My Mother

    You too, my mother, read my rhymes
    For love of unforgotten times, read more »

  • 22.
    Portrait -new-

    A child draws the outline of a body.
    She draws what she can, but it is white all through,
    she cannot fill in what she knows is there.
    Within the unsupported line, she knows read more »

  • 23.
    Mama, Come Back

    Mama, come back.
    Why did you leave
    now that I am learning you?
    The landlady next door read more »

  • 24.
    My Mother

    I

    Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
    I paused because I did not want to go; read more »

New Mom Poems

  1. Death of an Innocent, Anonymous
  2. my mother, qayoom sofi
  3. Heart of Gold, Dane Monteforte
  4. Conversation b/w me and my sweet mom, Salim R Javed
  5. M. (MY) O. (OLD) M. (MOM), Harold R Hunt Sr
  6. Mom, I love to see you, gajanan mishra
  7. Y/.. One more cup, Aufie Zophy
  8. Garden of Love -Mother, Seema Chowdhury
  9. A Mother, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  10. Dear Mom, I'm Sorry, Hailey Stump
  11. Adhoudha (A Sandwich) سندويتشة, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  12. TV Dinners, Paul Christopher Henry
  13. Like Mother Like Daughter, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  14. My Mom - An Angel, Sharon Leesha Edison
  15. Heroine Mom, Stylist Mom, European Mom, Bijay Kant Dubey
  16. Why Am I?, Prathamesh Salvi
  17. Logical reasoning, Vishal Sharma
  18. Mom, Geetha Jayakumar
  19. Marmalade jar, sallam yassin
  20. Mother Love, Jay Leonard
  21. Mom’s Ma, Max Richard
  22. For Me Mother Is The World, sallam yassin
  23. Exploding In Temper Tantrums - (REVISED), Margaret Alice Second
  24. I LOVE MY MOM, Sumit Ojha
  25. Dear Mom, Krystal Shearer
  26. Wonder, Tierra Bradley
  27. A Poem to Mom, Vidi Pudinkz
  28. I LOVE U MOM! ! !, Chirag Kapoor.
  29. Mom, kaila james
  30. Mom,, Riene Leanter
  31. How A Mom IS, Manaal Shams
  32. Mom, Udiah (witness to Yah)
  33. Open The Door - IV, ramesh rai
  34. Missed Mom, Craig Anderson
  35. ' My Mom', Jenny MORETTER
  36. MOM, Rebecca Succes
  37. 041611H never give to mom again, Manonton Dalan
  38. 041611G mom doesn't like way i write, Manonton Dalan
  39. 041611D mom at shoe store, Manonton Dalan
  40. 041611C riding with mom, Manonton Dalan
  41. Thank you Mother, Alisha Ricks
  42. my mom, joan s. zhu
  43. ...Little Angel..., Deyanira Yari Rodriguez
  44. Mom, Geet Asher
  45. Gourmet vs the Usual, Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
  46. Mom I'miss You Mom, Dwi utami
  47. MY QUEEN I LoVe YOU…, Glamorous Enigma
  48. you're the best mom!, ivy joy finez
  49. Don't mix drinking and driving., rakesh rampariya
  50. ~ THE PARTY ~, Emma Jane Rae
  51. Mom n dad, kitz d budding poet
  52. I Love You Mom, Cora Dewitt
  53. It's not fair, Patricia Panos
  54. Scared and Couragous, Desiree Brown
  55. Hey mom, Black Rose
  56. Babies, Moms, Memories and Aromas, David Whalen
  57. Moms, Traci Peace
  58. My MOM, Ashish Gutgutia
  59. My mom is..., burpsn farts
  60. ice.angelxxx poem, Jamie Drake
  61. To my Mom, Praveen Baid
  62. Life, joelstine gonzaga
  63. ONE LAST QUESTION......, Ritika Abigail
  64. Mom & You, James Mond
  65. Sorry Mom, Rishi Menon
  66. Seven Billion You, Ershad Mazumder
  67. I SHOULDVE LISTENED, gaby pineda
  68. MOMS, marissa olson
  69. Mom, Grant Baker
  70. What is a Mom?, C L Escamilla
  71. Mothers’ Day,2008, Dr John Celes
  72. the day i met you, jamaya ewing
  73. My Mom, Ashwin KrishnaA(6 yrs)
  74. Mom, junior Sinchi
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