Mothers Poems

Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?
...

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.
...

Sweet dreams form a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams
...

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.
...

In life
one is always
balancing
...

Here, this smudge of blood,
Of a tender boy of eleven,
Soaked thru the tarmac,
Yet to be dried, still wet and warm!
...

A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry


To you, my aunt, who would explore
...

Part One


The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry.
...

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers---
And that cannot stop their tears.
...

Seeing we never found gay fairyland
(Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
...

To all the selfless Mothers of this world!
So proud to salute your untiring service,
So happy to bow down before your beautiful spirit!
...

'Happy Mothers Day'.
To those mothers unlike others.

Mothers unlike others,
...

They are mothering mothers
Who without conscience curse
The intriguing bloods that tend to
Flow into the wineskin of a foresight
...

Faith of our mothers, a lovely sight
Loving spirit and joyful gaze
Gentle soul and gentle breeze
Faithful heart and a prayerful life
...

Mother's Day Special
(12th may)

(Written on 13 May:
...

II
On the mother's mad smiles the raindrops
patter down. On their beloved
mad faces the lanterns tap
their yellow fingers.
Swaying. Pure.
Pure raindrops and lanterns. And the mothers
draw near, blowing on their cold fingers,
moving their bodies
through filial bones, tendons,
submerged organs.
And the intrinsic mothers calmly sit down
inside filial heads.
They sit there in slow and urgent silence,
seeing everything
and burning the images, fuelling the images,
while love keeps getting stronger.
Showering them in the face. Tender love.
Fierce love.
And the mothers are ever more beautiful.
Think the sons whom the mothers levitate.
Violent flowers strike their eyelids.
Above and below they breathe
in silence,
theirs faces gleaming in the spray
of raindrops,
around the lanterns. In the continuous
pourring down of sons.
Mothers are the loftiest things
created by sons, since they dwell
in their sons' deflagration, since
sons are like dandelion invaders
in their mothers' terrain.
And mothers are oil wells in the speech of their sons,
spurting through them
from out of the earth.
And the sons dive, in rubber suits, into the depths
of myriad waters
with the mothers wrapped like octopi around their hands
and around their tenderest nerves.
And the son sits with his mother at the head of the table.
Through him the mother fiddles
with the teacups and the forks,
and through her he thinks
no dead is possible, and the waters
are connected
through his hand touching the mad face
of his mother who can sense his touch
and through love, in love, until it's only possible
to love everything
and it's possible to rediscover everything through love.
...

Today you are born and later you gave birth to us.
Your love you gave us first demonstrated by have the ability to carry us in your womb for nine month and that is per child.
You have given us the best care and protection.
Your love you gave us, those moments when you sacrificed to go hungry just because of us, you saw it fit that we had a meal because you always said that you are living for us.
...

When it comes to the welfare of her offspring fear to her becomes a stranger
The mother to protect her young puts her own life in danger
Stories of human and animal mothers on behalf of their young nothing short of amazing
The love and bravery of a mother is something well worth praising
...

When it comes to the welfare of her offspring fear to her becomes a stranger
The mother to protect her young puts her own life in danger
Stories of human and animal mothers on behalf of their young nothing short of amazing
The love and bravery of a mother is something well worth praising
...

A salute to mothers
A salute to nurturers
A tribute to mothers
A tribute to nurturers.
...