Poetry about mothering - Page 3 - Mothering Forums

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#61 of 71 Old 03-21-2006, 06:22 PM
 
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nntalamu-I loved that!
inlovemama-ah, I loved that too.

FUN THREAD!
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#62 of 71 Old 03-31-2006, 04:52 AM
 
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It's time.
Elation, trepedation, the promise of fulfilling pent-up dreams.
Sudden panicky doubt floods this clouded mind with impending responsibilities. The sweaty sweet aroma of myself makes me briefly nauseous.
Caressing that swollen protrusion long carried with life cradled lovingly inside, instantly soothes and reassures.
I can do this.
Focus.
This is it.
Eyes wide at the unexpected warm burning, then relief as the sensation dulls to blend calmly into the background.
The constant, mild throb propels you downward and, finally, outward into waiting hands.
Peeking past the soft rise of an old abode slowly sagging and deflating, new life meets my downcast, expectant gaze.
Amazement. Disbelief. Wonder. Bliss. Joy.
Lifted upward to rest on warm skin, silence is broken with that first lusty cry and a softly emotional voice resonates to fill the room and forever repeat in my mind,
"We have a son".
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#63 of 71 Old 03-31-2006, 04:59 AM
 
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Such wonderful thoughts spilled here, so amazing to see how vastly different they are yet all so totally relatable at the same time.
I am exceptionally in love with 'Fleeting' by Angela Petersen.
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#64 of 71 Old 03-31-2006, 11:40 AM
 
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Quote:
Originally Posted by dace101
It's time.
Elation, trepedation, the promise of fulfilling pent-up dreams.
Sudden panicky doubt floods this clouded mind with impending responsibilities. The sweaty sweet aroma of myself makes me briefly nauseous.
Caressing that swollen protrusion long carried with life cradled lovingly inside, instantly soothes and reassures.
I can do this.
Focus.
This is it.
Eyes wide at the unexpected warm burning, then relief as the sensation dulls to blend calmly into the background.
The constant, mild throb propels you downward and, finally, outward into waiting hands.
Peeking past the soft rise of an old abode slowly sagging and deflating, new life meets my downcast, expectant gaze.
Amazement. Disbelief. Wonder. Bliss. Joy.
Lifted upward to rest on warm skin, silence is broken with that first lusty cry and a softly emotional voice resonates to fill the room and forever repeat in my mind,
"We have a son".
Oh Momma, you made me cry. :
Just beautiful...
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#65 of 71 Old 03-31-2006, 06:02 PM
 
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#66 of 71 Old 03-31-2006, 06:07 PM
 
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I have so much enjoyed reading everyones poetry, thankns for sharing!
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#67 of 71 Old 04-06-2006, 12:36 PM
 
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I love to write in rythme. You do, too. I like anticipating
what word or phrases you will come up with to finish a line.
This is very similar to how I write. Today is my first day
on this site. Is this how I post my poems...through replies?

This is the first poem I wrote about mothers.

A Mother's Creed (March 2006)


Live your faith, day to day.
People watch for what you say.
Children mimic all we do.
24/7 we are in view.

Show God's love to all you're near
Be bold about, have no fear.
Lean on God to get through.
Strength is knowing He loves you.

Look in the mirror, what do you see?
Remember God sees you differrently.
So give Him glory, He's all you need.
Run with your faith, make this your creed.

Faith and Prayer - Our power source.
Pray for your children & their mate, of course!
Train up a child and he'll not depart,
From what you've planted deep in his heart.

So keep close to God, keep full of joy,
For Satan comes to steal, kill and destroy
The seeds we plant in ourselves and others.
Rejoice in the opportunities we have as mothers!
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#68 of 71 Old 04-06-2006, 12:44 PM
 
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I thought I was responding to someone's poem, but it ended up
on a new page. Can someone help me figure this out.
Thank you!
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#69 of 71 Old 06-18-2006, 11:22 PM
 
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wonderful reading!
I wrote this when my son was an infant


He Sleeps

He sleeps.
His head on my shoulder.
His face serious-
intent on his task.
Wisps of milky breath
blow across my cheek.


I smile.
Imprinting this memory on my heart. Glints of gold in his hair-
Wrinkles on his forehead.
Dimpled fist nestled against my neck.

I rest.
Wanting this moment to last forever.
I lean my cheek on his downy head.

Content.
We sleep.
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#70 of 71 Old 06-18-2006, 11:41 PM - Thread Starter
 
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Malissa, that is beautiful, brings back memories *sigh*

                                Whatever will be, already is...
 
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#71 of 71 Old 06-30-2006, 12:34 AM
 
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What a powerful, wonderful thread. Thank you Mamas, for your words that you have shared here.

This is a poem that I found scribbled in my knitting journal last weekend. I wrote it a few months back and then forgot about it. During this past year, much of my self identity as a mother has been wrapped up in my losses.

This is the first time I have shared in this space. Thanks for reading.

Enough for now

Last winter I checked out.
I was gone.
Grief so deep in me I couldn’t find it, feel it, express it.
Sponge-like, sucking my emotions dry during those cold months.

I went through the motions of my days.
Downward dog,
Pigeon,
Warrior,
Even crow.
Breathing the Ujai breath. Bringing air far down to where my heart lay bound.

I was checked out.
Gone.
Didn’t accomplish anything.
Hard to get things done when you’re not there.

And then finally,
A last straw.
Another loss.

I screamed-cried-yelled
In the house by myself.
One long hour.

Then I breathed,
Ujai, the victorious breath.

Days later, miles away, I fell alone to the sand on a beach, couldn’t go on.
Ocean winds tracking tears on my cheek
Drained at last.

Present.

The opening up is so incremental,
The intensity of each minute change enough for the time being.
All I can handle.

Spring
The bulbs came up
Nothing really has ended
It just changes, grows
As I do too

A psychic tells me to wait.
“Heal Mama”.
That I have to grow before the things I want will come to me.
That there is love and acceptance crossing over to me.
That I need to trust

“What am I supposed to become?
How am I supposed to be?
And please, tell me, how do I wait?”

“Put the ashes of your fears onto the water” she said
"Let them wash away."

But I am afraid to do it.
Right now,
It is more than I can handle

I used to be able to write funny stuff.
But I can’t anymore.
Everything seems too important now,
Too much risk if I don’t attend to the things which my heart is opening to.

So I go through my days
Downward dog
Warrior
(Having given up on crow lately)

But I breathe, Ujai, the victorious breath.
Checking in.

And for the time being, this is enough for me.

Mama to 3 daughters, expecting #4chicken3.gif

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