#motherhood poems on Hello Poetry

Lyteweaver Jun 2014

Dearest daughter, we are told as small children that little girls should be "sugar and spice and everything nice." Don't believe that! Here are a few lessons I've learned thus far.  Take them or leave them. I am here only to guide you and protect you on your chosen path.

1. Never let anyone degrade you or cause you to feel bad about yourself.  You were born perfectly divine and deserve to be treated as such.

2. Don't compare your body or looks to the women in magazines, online, or on T.V. Technology can erase any imperfection with the click of a button. We are all built differently and uniquely.  It is a woman's inner beauty and confidence that shines.

3. Don't get caught up in thinking trends, fashions or name brands are important.  It's the person behind the designer watch, under the highlights and perfectly fake fingernails that will or won't make her mark on this world.

4. Choose girl friends wisely. A true friend will defend you even when you aren't around to hear it. Keep company with people who lift you up, not bring you down.  There's nothing more inspiring and centering than spending time with other like-minded women.

5. Never intentionally hurt or degrade another human being.  Words can be as hurtful as weapons.  Your words have the power to lift a person's spirit or damage it beyond repair.

6. Don't be afraid to question authority or take a stand for something you believe in.  The world has enough followers. BE A LEADER.

7. Your education has a powerful influence on your future.  Take school seriously; knowledge is power.  Learn as much as you can when given the opportunity no matter where you are at that time.

8.  Just because a boy says he loves or cares for you doesn't mean he does.  Pay attention to what he DOES.

9. Don't ever stay with a guy who hits, controls or cheats.  Love shouldn't hurt.  Get rid of him immediately!

10. Take opportunities to travel, meet new people and have new experiences.  Don't be so focused on getting married and having children at a time when you are still discovering your talents and gifts.

11. When you are ready to settle down, choose your husband carefully.  He should be kind, generous, and loving.  These are the qualities that make a good husband and father.

12. Stop and take time to notice a pretty flower when you see one. Feel the cool breeze when the wind shifts.  Be in awe of the millions of stars at night. Enjoy the melody of a bluejay outside your window.  Notice beauty in every person you meet. For these are the ways God is revealed to you everyday.

13.  Know that you are never alone even when it feels like you are.  This one will try to trick you throughout life.  Call its bluff!

14.  Don't be so concerned with acquiring money and things.  You came into this world with nothing and you will leave with nothing.  People are often disconnected from spirit because they are so concerned with material objects and status that they start to believe they ARE what they DO and what they HAVE.  When you can't do anymore or lost the things you had, you will be left with nothing but spirit anyway.

15. Realize the power and influence you have just by being a woman.  Women are the mothers who shape our future generations.  If we protect and educate girls and women, we save the world.

I am sure I will learn as much and more from you as you learn from me.  Welcome to the world little one.  Make your mark and make it a big one!

Love always and forever (even when you forget these words of advice),
Your Mom, Mommy, Mama

This was written in 2010 for my baby girl that I prayed for and received. She is a fantastic force, and I can't wait to see where this journey takes us.

#life #motherhood #women

Molly Smithson May 2014

The Melody of M

Moving amidst my Ramona chapter books,
I make out your movement, M, the moody turns
Of your mounts and valleys, the moniker of

Family names, you marked me like a maternal
Emblem of the generation’s matriarch,
You mingled amid reminiscences of former matrons

Maria Helena from the Midwest,
Who crossed the mountains in a wagon,
Madeleine, a migrant from Marseilles,

Who baked warm loaves in San Francisco,
And her own daughter, my Mimi,
Who muttered merde while she drank martinis.

In my own time, you materialized in
Marjorie, my nana, and Maria, my mom,
The women in which I knew you growing up,

Then Molly, who made dreams out of
Magic and Movies and Marie Antoinette,
You embellished my most favorite things.

In my monogram, you aimed my impulses
in your masts’ diametric directions
Towards competence, towards imagination.

In your middle ‘s mysterious compartment I make snug
With magazines and novels and mugs of hot milk.
You nuzzled me in moments of melancholy, then motivated me

To meander among your fundamental family,
The sumptuous L of melt and mélange,
The meticulous N of man or monk or money.

Even W, which matches your mien in mirror
It warped wicked witch while you
Milled maidens and damsels, so I imagined

The mutilation of those two majuscules formed
My image of womanhood. M, Molly Smithson materialized
From a meek mademoiselle into the mistress of mischief.

#family #motherhood #alliteration #m #molly

Lyteweaver May 2014

Overnight Express

Please God
Send me an adventure.
A crazy wild ride.
Let's Make A Deal.
Give me a choice of 3 doors
before my formidable demise.
You see if I don't get some chill,
some life-force pill; I'll suffocate on boredom
and absence of thrill.
Send me a time machine to fly back in history.
Let me feel what it's like to be part of a movement
or solve a mystery.
Shoot me into space where I can meet the Third Kind.
Might not speak the same language, but we'd communicate just fine.
I'd feel right at home on some far away planet.
Now, please, send me some adventure ******!

But wait.
There's just one little clause.
I need this adventure no earlier than 6 a.m. and not after 9 at night.
Oh and I have to be home in time
to feed the cat, make dinner and tuck the kids in tight.
So schedule me in, deliver my ride.
I'm patiently waiting; swiftly dying inside.
No pressure or anything; I'm chillin'.
Eyes peering behind blinds like a death row villain.
Fingers crossed. Breath held.
Is that FedEx? Oh god willing...

Per terms and agreement:
Please do not send me adventure wrapped in Wet Wipes, Stow-and-Go Seating or sibling food fights.
Just launch me outta homemakin' and caretakin'
for one stinkin' day!
Let me a be a gypsy, a journalist or have a fan-tas-tic lay.
Let me move masses, stack paper, be the star of a play.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Nevermind.
It's Groundhog Day.

Passport optional

#life #death #adventure #motherhood #waiting #choices

Molly Smithson May 2014

To Ovaries

You start trouble, Ovaries. You usually cause:
“I just got my period,” or
“I haven’t gotten my period,” or
“ I have the worst cramps.”
But you’re complicated. We don’t really think about that.
I’m here to say, Ovaries, your trouble is of importance.

You’re part of our own big bang theory.
Some people think it’s a religious miracle,
Most just figure it’s pure science,
But in a way we most don’t understand
You mixed your matter with its male and made a
Completely unique planet.
Earth’s atmosphere could be all Carbon Dioxide,
And my sister could be blonde with a sweet disposition.

Matter can’t be wasted, just changed, and I don’t think
Your eggs are either. I estimate sixty eight of my oocites, my essence
(those are unfertilized eggs, like the ones sold in a store)
are floating in sewer systems through the US and Limoges France too.
Ovaries, there’s no need to worry: that’s sixty eight out of a million
In each of you! I couldn’t waste you if I tried.

Before the internet or on-demand TV or iPhone apps
You figured out how to sift through the most complex data in the world:
Millions of options of human DNA. How do you pick?
You’re the Netflix of humanity.
You’ve chosen people of all roles for us to watch, to love, to care about.

I waited for your faucet to switch on until I was thirteen, ovaries.
Now I wait, usually with dread, but sometimes with a little hope,
For the drop that’ll turn some water and flour into leavening dough.

#love #*** #woman #pregnancy #motherhood #feminism #women #childbirth

Zainab Attari Apr 2014

Birth of Motherhood

A foetus home, like a cocoon,
For nine months is in a womb.
And soon it travels in the outer world,
A cranky and tender little baby girl!

‘The child gave birth to a mother!’
Uttered a nurse besides the doctor!
Hearing her baby’s cry,
The mother falls at ease and sighs!

She cuddles her child gently,
And the child falls asleep gradually.
Being overwhelmed she begins to weep,
As she watches her little angel sleep!

She is astound by natures grace,
How her flesh and blood she can embrace!
She praises the Lord for this miraculous day!
She thanks the almighty in each way.

-Zainab Attari

#love #mother #motherhood #child #foetus #gift

Ellen Joyce Jun 2013

River Lullaby

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart.
Spilling out snapshot flashes of life like a flick book's muffled cries.
Controversial plastic shell, elastic strap, stick insect mattel covetted for months
until Santa dropped it down the chimney,
almost as fast as she sprogged and regained her figure
- the original scrummy yummy mummy set to spread low self esteem.

My daddy said anyone can crank out a kid like she did,
as my mother ground her teeth to protest on behalf of her traumatised frame.
Strange, I almost became one of the lost - before I grew cells and self,
another fragile foetus swinging on a noose
from gallows where once a ****** failed to stayed closed.
Little life curled tight self soothing sings al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
as I lie beneath my shroud of sadness filled with down shrinking from the light of day
I want to tell you that I love you,
that my heart brays, beats, bleets, breaks, aches for you.
My soul, spirit, self thrice chorus al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
as waters flow from deep to deep
where danger dances and solace is sought
from beyond the fruitless orchards and willows weeping
branches reaching out for you.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
surrounded by madonna, ***** and all betwixt
spheres of life protruding, pronounced, announcing themselves;
in streets where bundles, terrors, cherubs, banting, brat and bairn alike
shriek, scream, squeal, shout, squalk, squabble, sing
in a cacophony that makes my heart weep and ache in longing
to sing to self in solitude al na tivke iredem bim'nucha.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
pulsating thoughts, dreams, hopes of you through the whole of me.
Brought to my knees I seek wisdom, guidence, strength to let you go.
The river is waiting for you, you who I hold tight in my caul
trying to trust, seeking strength to hakshev le'ivshat haga'lim
holding the thought of you,
the love of you,
the hope of you
tight in my arms crooning my lullaby of lament
al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

Translations
When I wrote this poem to express the letting go of the babies much loved but never to be I thought of a song actually from the Prince of Egypt, a song I first heard in Hebrew, so I looked it up.
al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
hush now be still love my baby dont cry
hakshev le'ivshat haga'lim
sleep while you're rocked by the stream

#dreaming #longing #infertility #babies #pregnancy #motherhood #children #hoping #parenthood

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