Happy Mother’s Day! We all know that mothers are special. They have a kind of love that cannot be matched by anything else in this world. Your mother is someone who will always be there for you no matter what happens. Here are four great poems that celebrate Moms. Enjoy!
Mother, A Cradle to Hold Me
By Maya Angelou
It is true
I was created in you.
It is also true
That you were created for me.
I owned your voice.
It was shaped and tuned to soothe me.
Your arms were moulded
Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
The scent of your body was the air
Perfumed for me to breathe.
During those early, dearest days
I did not dream that you had
A large life which included me,
For I had a life
Which was only you.
The poem When All the Others were away at Mass by Seamus Heaney was named Ireland’s favourite poem of the last 100 years. The poem is about a loving mother-child relationship lived in a cold emotional environment. At the death of his mother, the writer keeps alive this special moment, in an atmosphere of profound sadness.
When All the Others were away at Mass
by Seamus Heaney
When all the others were away at Mass
I was all hers as we peeled potatoes.
They broke the silence, let fall one by one
Like solder weeping off the soldering iron:
Cold comforts set between us, things to share
Gleaming in a bucket of clean water.
And again let fall. Little pleasant splashes
From each other’s work would bring us to our senses.
So while the parish priest at her bedside
Went hammer and tongs at the prayers for the dying
And some were responding and some crying
I remembered her head bent towards my head,
Her breath in mine, our fluent dipping knives–
Never closer the whole rest of our lives.
From New Selected Poems 1966-1987 © Estate of Seamus
In her poem “Another Poem for Mothers”, Erin Belieu captures the wonder of mothers.
Another Poem for Mothers
By Erin Belieu
Mother, I’m trying
a poem to you—
which is how most
poems to mothers must
begin—or, What I’ve wanted
to say, Mother…but we
as children of mothers,
even when mothers ourselves,
cannot bear our poems
to them. Poems to
mothers make us feel
little again. How to describe
that world that mothers spin
and consume and trap
and love us in, that spreads
for years and men and miles?
Those particular hands that could
smooth anything: butter on bread,
cool sheets or weather. It’s
the wonder of them, good or bad,
those mother-hands that pet
and shape and slap,
that sew you together
the pieces of a better house
or life in which you’ll try
to live. Mother,
I’ve done no better
than the others, but for now,
here is your clever failure.
Christina Rossetti wrote The Christmas Carol and a lot of poems. This is a lovely sonnet dedicated to her mother. Her words about her first love will touch your heart.
Sonnets are Full of Love, And this My Tome
By Christina Rossetti
Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.