My Mother Poem in English: Collection of poems dedicated to mothers by various authors including Ann Taylor, Karpop Riba, Edgar Allan Poe, Jennifer Davids, Marge Piercy, Ellen Bryant Voigt, and Frieda Hughes.
My Mother Poem in English
In the heart’s embrace, a love so true,
A guiding light, forever through.
A mother’s warmth, a soothing balm,
In her tender arms, a lifelong calm.
With gentle hands that comfort and care,
She weaves dreams in the silent air.
A lullaby sung in the hush of night,
A beacon of hope in the dimmest light.
Her laughter, a melody, joyous and sweet,
A symphony of love, no measure can beat.
Through trials and triumphs, her strength unwavering,
A pillar of support, endlessly savoring.
In every tear that stains her cheek,
Resides a strength that words can’t speak.
A warrior spirit, resilient and bold,
In her love, a story forever told.
Oh, Mother dear, with eyes that see,
Beyond the surface, to what could be.
Your love, a legacy, eternally spun,
In the tapestry of life, you’re the golden one.
For all the sacrifices, both seen and unseen,
In your embrace, life’s colors are serene.
A mother’s poem, a tribute so sincere,
To the one who’s cherished, forever near.
My Mother Poem
In the cradle of life, a mother’s embrace,
A love so pure, a comforting grace.
Her tender touch, a soothing balm,
In her arms, I find eternal calm.
Through sleepless nights and endless days,
Her love unwavering, in countless ways.
With gentle whispers and lullabies sweet,
She makes the world feel complete.
In every smile and every tear,
Her strength shines bright, crystal clear.
A guiding light through stormy weather,
Her love binds us close, forever.
She’s the melody in life’s sweet song,
In her presence, I feel I belong.
With wisdom deep and kindness vast,
Her love is an anchor, steadfast.
Through trials and triumphs, thick and thin,
Her love endures, a timeless hymn.
A mother’s love, a beacon so bright,
Guiding us through both day and night.
So here’s to you, dear Mother mine,
A love so deep, forever will shine.
In every heartbeat, in every breath,
Your love, a bond that conquers death.
My Mother Poem by Ann Taylor
My Mother
Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.
Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.
And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?
Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.
When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.
–Ann Taylor
An Ode To My Mother Poem by Karpop Riba
An Ode To My Mother
Oh, Mother! ! the wonder of my life,
A beacon of love who vanquishes strife:
A guardian angel whose presence I feel,
A sanctuary of safety, a balm to heal.
In the depths of my soul, your love is enshrined,
A treasure beyond measure, a love so divine,
A love that knows no bounds or time,
A love that is pure, enduring, and kind.
From the moment of my birth to this very day,
Your love polishes my heart like a fine filigree,
Guiding me with grace in every wondrous way,
Invaluable lessons that have set me free.
Your eyes as limpid as a crystal stream,
Reflect the depths of your soul, like a dream,
A source of boundless love, forgiveness, and care,
A mother’s love that endures, beyond compare.
Oh Mother! on this day of celebration,
I offer you my heart, overflowing with adoration,
For all the love, the support, and the strength,
That have shaped my life, as your child, at length.
May your life be filled with joy, peace, and love,
As you look upon your children, with blessings from above,
May your heart be filled with the knowledge and pride,
That you are the greatest mother, in whom love does abide.
–Karpop Riba
To My Mother Poem by Edgar Allan Poem
To My Mother
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother—my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
– by Edgar Allan Poe
Poem for My Mother by Jennifer Davids
Poem for my Mother
That isn’t everything, you said
On the afternoon i brought the poem
To you hunched over the washtub
With you hands
The shrivelled
Burnt granadilla
Skin of your hands
Covered by foam.
And my words
Slid like a ball
Of hard blue soap
Into the tub
To be grabbed and used by you
To rub the clothes
A poem isn’t all
There is to life, you said
With your blue-ringed gaze
Scanning the page
Once looking over my shoulder
And back at the immediate
Dirty water
And my words
Being clenched
Smaller and
Smaller.
– Jennifer Davids
My Mother’s Body poem by Marge Piercy
My mother’s body
The dark socket of the year
the pit, the cave where the sun lies down
and threatens never to rise,
when despair descends softly as the snow
covering all paths and choking roads:
then hawkfaced pain seized you
threw you so you fell with a sharp
cry, a knife tearing a bolt of silk.
My father heard the crash but paid
no mind, napping after lunch
yet fifteen hundred miles north
I heard and dropped a dish.
Your pain sunk talons in my skull
and crouched there cawing, heavy
as a great vessel filled with water,
oil or blood, till suddenly next day
the weight lifted and I knew your mind
had guttered out like the Chanukah
candles that burn so fast, weeping
veils of wax down the chanukiya.
Those candles were laid out,
friends invited, ingredients bought
for latkes and apple pancakes,
that holiday for liberation
and the winter solstice
when tops turn like little planets.
Shall you have all or nothing
take half or pass by untouched?
Nothing you got, Nun said the dreydl
as the room stopped spinning.
The angel folded you up like laundry
your body thin as an empty dress.
Your clothes were curtains
hanging on the window of what had
been your flesh and now was glass.
Outside in Florida shopping plazas
loudspeakers blared Christmas carols
and palm trees were decked with blinking
lights. Except by the tourist
hotels, the beaches were empty.
Pelicans with pregnant pouches
flapped overhead like pterodactyls.
In my mind I felt you die.
First the pain lifted and then
you flickered and went out.
– By Marge Piercey
My Mother Poem by Ellen Bryant Voigt
My Mother by Ellen Bryant Voigt
My mother’s sewing; I hear the steady
whirr of the machine, like a small, wild bird
rising through leaves in a green sky. My mother’s
voice, tranquil, measures the cloth, whispers
to herself, to the children, to the machine
its beautiful intelligence. I see her
bent over the white seam like a penitent
over her prayers, or a lover, threading
love to the loved one through the eye of night.
She wears her own face; her hands as delicate
as her mirror, the hour deepening
into a new cloth. All my life I have watched
my mother’s hands. They have never
held a gun, never struck a blow. They have
planted and nurtured, and made a fabric
of our lives, sewn their own death
with every stroke, every stitch, taking
the measure of their living, their dying,
never flinching, never looking back.
– by Ellen Bryant Voigt
Poem on My Mother
In the cradle of warmth, a love profound,
A mother’s embrace, a love unbound.
Through days and nights, her vigil kept,
In her gentle arms, my fears all slept.
Her eyes, like stars, with wisdom shine,
A beacon of love, a lifeline.
Through valleys low and mountains high,
She guides me with a watchful eye.
Her laughter, a melody, sweet and clear,
Chasing away every trace of fear.
In her tender touch, troubles dissolve,
A comforting presence, problems resolve.
A tapestry woven with threads of care,
She teaches life’s lessons with utmost flair.
In storms of life, she’s my sturdy mast,
An anchor in oceans vast.
Her sacrifices, a silent hymn,
A melody of love, in the shadows dim.
Through joy and sorrow, thick and thin,
Her love, an eternal, unbroken hymn.
Oh, my mother, a garden of grace,
Each moment with you, a cherished embrace.
In the book of my heart, you are the cover,
Forever indebted, to my dearest mother.
Poem On My Mother In English
In the tapestry of life, a guiding light,
My mother’s love, forever bright.
Through childhood’s laughter and teardrops’ flow,
Her tender care, a constant, gentle glow.
Her hands, a haven, soft and warm,
Weathered by time, yet gentle norm.
A lullaby whispered in the quiet night,
A beacon of love, endlessly bright.
In the garden of memories, she plants each seed,
Nurturing dreams, helping them succeed.
Her smile, a sunbeam through stormy weather,
Her embrace, a sanctuary, binding us together.
With words of wisdom, she paints life’s art,
Guiding steps with a motherly heart.
Through trials and triumphs, she stands strong,
A pillar of support, where I belong.
Unseen sacrifices, a silent song,
In the symphony of life, where she belongs.
A teacher, a friend, a love untold,
A bond that time nor distance can fold.
Oh, my mother, with grace adorned,
Your love, a symphony, sweetly performed.
In every chapter, in joy or strife,
You are the melody, the rhythm of my life.
Mom Poems in English
1. My Mother Poem
In the tapestry of my life, she’s the thread,
A mother’s love, where all fears are shed.
Her embrace, a haven, warm and true,
In her presence, all troubles undo.
With gentle hands and a heart so kind,
Her love’s a melody, soothing the mind.
In every smile and every tear,
Her presence, a treasure, forever near.
2. My Mother Poem
A mother’s love, a beacon in the night,
Guiding through darkness, a comforting light.
Her laughter, a melody, sweet and clear,
Chasing away every trace of fear.
With words like a balm, she heals each pain,
A love that flows, an eternal refrain.
Through ups and downs, thick and thin,
Her love’s a constant, a haven within.
3. My Mother Poem
In the book of life, she’s a cherished page,
A guide, a mentor, in every stage.
Her sacrifices, a silent hymn,
A melody of love, from within.
With wisdom deep and a touch so mild,
She’s my solace, my mother, my child.
In her eyes, a universe unfolds,
A story of love, forever retold.
4. My Mother Poem
Mom, a word that echoes through the years,
A symphony of love that perseveres.
Through joy and sorrow, come what may,
Her love’s the anchor, come what lay.
In her hugs, the world fades away,
A refuge, a sanctuary, where I’ll stay.
Her love, an everlasting song,
In my heart, where I belong.
To My Mother Poem
To My Dearest Mother
In the gentle embrace of dawn’s first light,
Your love, a beacon that shines so bright.
Through tender moments and joyous laughter,
You’re the anchor, the one I’m after.
In the tapestry of life, you wove the thread,
A masterpiece of love, where memories are bred.
Your caring touch, a soothing balm,
In the symphony of chaos, a comforting calm.
Through storms and sunshine, you stood tall,
A pillar of strength, in moments big and small.
With words like a melody, sweet and sincere,
You chased away every trace of fear.
Your hands, a haven, tender and warm,
Guiding me through each twist and turn.
In your eyes, I find a reflection of grace,
A love so boundless, time can’t erase.
You are the compass in life’s vast sea,
Guiding me to the person I’m meant to be.
With gratitude as vast as the ocean’s span,
To my dearest mother, my forever fan.
So here’s to you, with love profound,
In my heart, you’ll forever be crowned.
To the queen of my world, my guiding star,
I love you more than words can declare.
‘My Mother Poem’ – Frieda Hughes
My Mother
They are killing her again.
She said she did it
One year in every ten,
But they do it annually, or weekly,
Some even do it daily,
Carrying her death around in their heads
And practising it. She saves them
The trouble of their own;
They can die through her
Without ever making
The decision. My buried mother
Is up-dug for repeat performances.
Now they want to make a film
For anyone lacking the ability
To imagine the body, head in oven,
Orphaning children. Then
It can be rewound
So they can watch her die
Right from the beginning again.
The peanut eaters, entertained
At my mother’s death, will go home,
Each carrying their memory of her,
Lifeless – a souvenir.
Maybe they’ll buy the video.
Watching someone on TV
Means all they have to do
Is press ‘pause’
If they want to boil a kettle,
While my mother holds her breath on screen
To finish dying after tea.
The filmmakers have collected
The body parts,
They want me to see.
They require dressings to cover the joins
And disguise the prosthetics
In their remake of my mother.
They want to use her poetry
As stitching and sutures
To give it credibility.
They think I should love it –
Having her back again, they think
I should give them my mother’s words
To fill the mouth of their monster,
Their Sylvia Suicide Doll,
Who will walk and talk
And die at will,
And die, and die
And forever be dying.
Praise Song for My Mother Poem
Praise Song for My Mother” is a poem by Grace Nichols, a Guyanese poet. Here is an excerpt from the poem:
You were
water to me
deep and bold and fathoming
You were
moon’s eyes to me
pull and grained and mantling
You were
sunrise to me
rise and warm and streaming
You were
the fishes red gill to me
the flame tree’s spread to me
the crab’s leg/the fried plantain smell
replenishing replenishing
My Mother’s Favorite Poem
In a garden of love, you’re the sweetest bloom,
A fragrance of warmth that dispels all gloom.
With eyes that sparkle like stars in the night,
You guide us with love, your eternal light.
Your laughter, a melody, echoes in our ears,
Wiping away worries, calming all fears.
In the tapestry of life, you weave grace,
A mother’s love, no time can erase.
Through seasons of joy and storms that may come,
Your strength, a lighthouse, guiding us home.
In your embrace, we find solace and peace,
A sanctuary of love that will never cease.
With hands that comfort and words that heal,
Your love is a treasure, remarkably real.
On this journey of life, you’re our guiding star,
Forever grateful for the love you are.
So here’s to you, Mom, with love that’s true,
In every heartbeat, we’re reminded of you.
A poem can’t capture all you mean,
But in our hearts, you’re the forever queen.
Mother’s Day Poems
A Mother’s Love
In the quiet of the morning light,
A mother’s love shines ever bright.
With arms that cradle, warm, and hold,
A love more precious than silver or gold.
Through sleepless nights and endless days,
Her love persists in countless ways.
A gentle touch, a soothing voice,
In her embrace, we find our choice.
She’s there to guide, to laugh, to weep,
Her love, a promise, forever to keep.
Through every triumph, every fall,
A mother’s love outshines them all.
On Mother’s Day, we honor you,
For all the love and care you strew.
A beacon strong, a guiding star,
You’ve shaped us who we are.
So here’s to mothers, near and far,
Whose love exceeds the brightest star.
Happy Mother’s Day, with love so true,
For everything you are and all you do.
My Mother, My Hero Poem
In the quiet moments, when shadows softly fall,
A hero emerges, not the tallest, but standing tall.
My mother, my hero, with a heart so pure,
Guiding me through life, steadfast and sure.
With gentle hands that wipe away my tears,
She banishes my worries and quells my fears.
Her laughter, a melody that dances in the air,
A symphony of love, beyond compare.
In the tapestry of life, she weaves the thread,
A selfless love, where no words are left unsaid.
Through storms and sunshine, she stands by my side,
A beacon of strength, in whom I confide.
Her wisdom, a lighthouse in life’s stormy sea,
Guiding me to shores where I’m meant to be.
A tireless giver, with a spirit so kind,
In her embrace, solace I always find.
In the chapters of my story, she’s the heart,
A bond unbreakable, a work of art.
My mother, my hero, in every role she plays,
Her love, a treasure that time never sways.
So here’s to you, my dearest mother dear,
In this poem of gratitude, let it be clear.
You’re my hero, my rock, my guiding light,
In your love, I find my strength to take flight.
My Mother, My Treasure Poem
In the heart’s embrace, a treasure so dear,
A mother’s love, forever sincere.
With every beat, a rhythm of grace,
Her warmth and care, a sweet embrace.
Through trials and triumphs, she stands by,
A guiding light beneath the sky.
Her words, a melody of comfort and cheer,
Whispering solace, calming every fear.
In laughter and tears, she shares the load,
A pillar of strength on life’s winding road.
Her touch, a balm to wounds unseen,
A bond unbroken, eternally serene.
Through the seasons of life, she blooms,
A flower of love that forever consumes.
Her sacrifices, a testament true,
A selfless devotion, like morning dew.
A mother’s love, an enduring treasure,
A bond that time cannot measure.
In every heartbeat, in every pleasure,
Forever and always, my precious treasure.
Also Read,
We hope that you liked our poem very much. Poem on mother in English we have listed for your entertainment, if you like this post then comment to us.
Share With Your Friends