#poems about mothers

[hersurvival]

My mother's door

Was unlocked for everyone.

Everyone else.

I was removing AC units

From the outside

To climb through windows.

While friends

Were given meals, blankets,

A temporary home.

@nosebleedclub July 2nd - Open Door

[zoe-a-scott]

I knows it’s wrong to believe your mother hates you deep down for her life, but my beginning was her end- how can you forgive yourself for taking someone apart and expecting them to hold you in love.

[words-i-think]

Don’t look at me,

Unless you are going to love me.

Don’t say my name so sweetly,

Unless you are going to hold me.

Don’t feed me poison,

Unless you are going to kill me.

Please leave me to return to dust.

I fear to be in your gaze.

[wr4thofth3lamb]

As I saw my mother tap someone’s childs head I nodded, I think, it’s easy to love someone else’s child, it’s the easiest thing to do, cause it’s not yours. I wish I was my mother someone else’s child.

[likewedream]

[avanillaopus]

lavender

You walk ahead of us as the afternoon sun beats down, a promise of glorious summer nights and even more glorious summer memories. The cracked pavement is flanked by blooming lavender bushes, their aroma acting as a time machine that transports me back to the most comforting moments of my girlhood.

Alice predicts what you’re going to do before the thought even occurs to you and we watch on in excited anticipation to see if she’s right. You reach out and pluck a flower from the bush as you walk, rub it between your fingers and bring it to the tip of your nose. You inhale as though it has magical properties. 

Nan used to that too and at that moment, you are a reflection of her, a reflection of the woman Alice is becoming, my own fate sealed with pretty purple petals. 

Most girls spend their entire lives fighting to become anyone but their mother, their grandmother, their sister, but not me. If I flower into half the woman you did, have an ounce of Nan’s strength and a fraction of Alice’s character, I’ll have become exactly who I always wanted to be.

- h.w, for my mother

[b0ydyke-g1rlfag]

when a baby bird learns to fly

it’s practically just falling

and there is hope that nature will take its course

but if the bird does not fly

it will hit the ground and die

and yet

no matter the chance of falling and dying

they still try to fly

even though it could destroy them

i think that sometimes i worry i am like a bird that wants very badly to fly away but knows that if it tries the risk of falling is far greater than the chance of flying

i wonder what it is like when a mother bird has to return to the nest to that

does she mourn?

would my mother mourn like a bird even if i did manage to fly?

[maryhall]

to my mother

i love you

like astronomers watch the stars 

i love you

like a dog starves itself

i love you

like we were close when i was young

i love you

[hrokkall]

Mama gave me music lessons,

now I play the saddest songs

[mothmandibles]

🇵🇸 May We Be Free, Together. One genocided peoples to another. We stand with Palestine, now and forever. 🇦🇲

Care for Gaza (Direct Paypal)

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Palestine Children Relief Fund

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Daily Click For Palestine (Help by at least clicking this daily, it may not be much but it counts for something at least.)

BDS's website, remember to follow the boycott.

[asoftepiloguemylove]

I AM NOT BEAUTIFUL BUT I COULD BE

Chen Chen Poplar Street // pinterest // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Janet Fitch // Taylor Swift seven // @girltwinkabigail // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Mitski Class of 2013 // Taylor Swift You're On Your Own, Kid // Margaret Atwood Selected Poems: 1965-1975 (via @freshberries) // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Salman Rushdie East, West // Emily Palermo // 괴물 Beyond Evil (2021) dir. Shim Nayeon // Desireé Dallagiacomo Sink

[zoe-a-scott]

my mothers love didn’t come without it’s unkind words, but I treasured it like a child clinging to stuffed animal, I needed it more than I could speak.

[words-i-think]

Untitled

I stepped out of the shower,

like a child from the womb,

I abandoned my solace in hopes that the light would bring me warmth.

I thought I was ready.

But as I cried my first breath I knew

I would never feel the same warmth

my mother gave.

But the heated water tracing my form can try

and shower spout can sing my lullabies

to hush my cries.

The solace of the womb is a lie.

And the love of another will never be close enough.

Hold me, Tiled Walls,

Hold me with falsified heat as my mother may have.

I can't remember.

Blind me, Steam,

Blind me from the cruelty that lies ahead as my father may have.

I can't remember.

My bones are formed and rigid and cold,

My soft skull traded for a soft heart,

To weak to beat after being beaten.

A World waits for me,

and so a towel is wrapped around me.

[wr4thofth3lamb]

Yes, she is my mother, she is the woman who gave birth to me.

Yes, she is my mother, she is the woman who carried me on her belly.

Yes, she is my mother, fed me, bathed me when I was a baby.

No, she wasn’t my mother.

[likewedream]

[katakaluptastrophy]

Then the nun came back and knocked on my door and said, John, I think I have it. I know you’re very scared right now, but I’m going to help you. Please let me in.

He said: I let her in. She’d brought P—’s gun.

As they stood in that filthy hallway, he looked down at the brown collection of clothes and body. She did too, recognising, dimly, what she was looking at. He said, “Don’t. This isn’t what she looks like.” - NTN, John 1:20

Are the brown clothes due to the floodwaters, or is this confirmation of Franciscan Cristabel?

Franciscanism has a particular interest in the natural world and solidarity with the poor, and a history of reading these interests through an apocalyptic lense. So of religious orders whose members might take particular interest in a group of anti-trillionnaire eco terrorists, Franciscanism feels like a pretty solid bet for Cristabel.

It's perhaps also relevant here that the same poem by St Francis that gave us the title of the anti global warming papal encyclical Laudato Si also gives praise to God through "our Sister Bodily Death".