April is My Birth Mother
April is my birth mother
I am a child of spring
April is my birth mother
I am a child in need
poem by David E. Patton

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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez

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The Crys
Crys are various and many-to list, it would go like this: -
The cry of a newborn just come from Heaven
The cry of the mother's joy knowing her child is born well
She holds her child to her breast to let it know that she loves the child
The cry of the father's joy holding the child in his arms
The father kissing the child on its forehead so the child can feel its father
The cry of the wolf in the woods gathering the pack together
The bleat of a mother sheep after giving birth to her child
The cry of a young boy who fell on the ice while ice skating
He had hurt himself quite badly
The cry of a little girl who fell and scraped her knee
Of all the crys in the world these are just a few
April 25,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham

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Mother or Momma
A mother gives birth, but a momma raises a child.
A mother brags on how smart her child is.
A momma teaches a child how to live.
A mother gives her child a way.
A momma sets her child free.
A mother tells her child she loves him or her.
A momma shows her child that he or she is loved.
Now that you know the difference which one are you; a mother or a momma?
Date of birth
Third April is
My date of birth
I do not agree
And you to agree.
And you observed
Third April as
My date of birth
I did not attend.
Third April
Is not actual
As you think
My day of birth.
It is correct to say
I have not taken any
Birth at any time
And assume I have no death.
Third April is
Just is imaginary
I am not you to think
Think and act accordingly.
poem by Gajanan Mishra

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April, Dear April
April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.
April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.
April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.
April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.
From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
April April April April
April April April April
April April April April
poem by Mark R Slaughter

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The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza

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Torturous
In April - quite some time ago - her
mother died in a sea of flames, but
the wound is still raw, she cannot
forget how little time they spent
together
In April last year her partner died in an
accident that left her knee injured for
life; this April brought the death of his
mother also - my child, the only thing
left is trying to
Load the dice on your behalf, impossible
to know the cause of your torturous route
through a tragic life - by visualising future
happiness in meditation, I'm trying to
enlist the help
Of universal forces and love - to attract more
prosperity and joy for you; take shelter with
us as a safe refuge - start to focus on visions
that will lead to fulfilment of dreams…
****************************** ***
Carine's partner Nico died on 29 April 2011
and we have received word that his mother,
Katinka, died this morning 4 April 2012 -
and Carine's own mother Leonie also died
in April quite a few years ago - April has
become such a scary month for her; the
only recourse left for her stepmother is
to pray for her future happiness…
poem by Margaret Alice Second

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Spring On April Avenue
When you dont need me anymore
You realise how much you need me
But I just need you if you not need me
Like the spring on april avenue
Words are wounds
And flowers fly
The smell of dew
Spring on april avenue
The electrification
Every leafs pleasure
Every lightbulb waiting underground
Every child rising through life
Because machines are statues...
Spring on april avenue
Theres no symphony
Just a storm in every eye
Snow in their minds...frozen souls
Spring on april avenue.
Theres too much blinding light
Too many wells, and the walls are coming closer
Too many hearts beating our life
But the heart beat for death not life
Like the spring on april avenue
Divorced...forced from heaven and hell...
Air and the earth...Im...Im...
On april avenue.
poem by Not A Dream Choice

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Carol
I sing of a maiden
That is makeles;
King of all kings
To her son she ches.
He came al so still
There his mother was,
As dew in April
That falleth on the grass.
He came al so still
To his mother's bour,
As dew in April,
That falleth on the flour.
He came al so still
There his mother lay,
As dew in April
That falleth on the spray.
Mother and maiden
Was never none but she;
Well may such a lady
Goddes mother be.
poem by Anonymous Olde English

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birth (Motherhood)
a child born with closed eyes
it was a new beginning of my life
people think a child is born
but ask me, i know a mother is born
people say that mother is precious gift of God
but ask me a child is God himself in her arms
before my child's birth my life was beautiful
but after his birth my life become precious
these are simple heap of emotions - people say this
fools! they don't understand the pleasure of being a mother
its just the same, when you see the diamond you praise its beauty
but when you own one, you come to know how precious it is!
- Pradnya
poem by Pradnya Pahurkar

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A Mother
A mother shows the child the world
A mother is its world when small
A mother shows the child what's love
A mother loves her child like a doll!
A mother makes the home and bed
A mother cares for all at home
A mother trains the child to walk
And stand on own, perfectly talk.
A mother is the teacher prime
A mother moulds the character
A mother shows the child to pray
And trust the unseen God all life.
A mother is the child's best friend
A mother knows its needs and wants
A mother cares for child when sick
And feels so proud, when child achieves.
Children, thank God for a good mother
On ‘Mother's day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-05-12
poem by John Celes

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Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck

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A Mother
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is conceived nine months in the womb
the child that is cradled at daytime,
night time until dawn?
How can a mother forget her child?
How can a mother forget her child
the child who after the flow of months
has learned to stand and run?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child whose mouth imitates her mother`s tongue,
the child who after a year or two can say,
'Mama, I love you'?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is so dear in her own heart and mind,
the child that reveals the mystery of creation,
the beauty of growth and human interaction.
the infinity of our own universe
within its finite linear time?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

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Mother, I May Have Been A Naughty Child
Mother, I may have been a naughty child,
But I am your child nevertheless!
You own the world, mother, you are the queen of the world,
And look at me, I go about in the habit of a beggar.
You are bent on neglecting me,
But I love you anyway, it is you, only you that I call upon.
Just as a child runs to his mother even after she has scolded him,
So do I run to you.
How could you push me away from you, mother,
You are my mother, are you not?
Oh, why did you cast me away, mother,
Leave me to play in the dust?
I would have been a better child,
Had only you been a little more kind to me.
I am sad and angry, mother,
I shall go away anywhere my eyes and my feet take me to.
I do not care now whether i live or die now, mother,
I am going away.
poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam

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Home Thoughts from Abroad
April in England–daffodils are growing
By every wayside, golden, tall and fair;
April–and all the little winds are blowing
The scents of springtime through the sunny air.
April in England–God, that we were there!
April in England–and her sons are lying
On these red fields, and dreaming of her shore;
April–we hear the thrushes' songs replying
Each unto each, above the cannons' roar;
April in England–shall we see it more?
April in England–there's the cuckoo calling
Down in her meadows where the cowslip gleams;
April–and little showers are softly falling,
Dimpling the surface of her babbling streams;
April in England–how the shrapnel screams!
April in England–blood and dust and smother,
Screaming of horses, men in agony.
April–full many of thy sons, O Mother,
Never again those dewy dawns shall see.
April in England–God, keep England free!
poem by Norah M. Holland

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Mother why do you hate me so?
a mother supports a child and her dreams
a mother tells you right from wrong
a mother provides for you
a mother listens to her child every problem
a mother cares for her sick child
a mother looks at the changes made in here childs life
So where were you Mother
When i needed you the most
poem by Shakeydra Pinner

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Sonnet: A Mother’s Greatness
A mother’s heart has love for all children;
Each child she bears and rears in similar way;
She tends to needs like hen to each chicken;
And gets up early, wearied though by day.
She knows in person each and every child;
She knows their wants even before they ask;
Unlike her husband, she is always mild,
And earnestly she tends to every task.
Each child appears an apple of her eye!
She intercedes for little things they need;
Ignoring faults, she loves to slog and die;
She is the Angel who readies each feed!
There isn’t a soul like mother on this earth!
She guards each child so selfishly since birth!
poem by John Celes

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A Mother's Love
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother will know,
When a Child is sick with fever, and the pulse is slow;
A Mother will not sleep or rest, till the child is well,
This is what my Mother did, she cared, I could tell.
What is a Mother's love? As it's only a Mother can feel,
When a Child is so bad, she makes her Mother feel like a heel;
Like the Mother will keep her patience till she wants to cry,
But in the end, when; the child is sorry, then she will sigh.
What is a Mother's love? Only a Mother can say with Love,
My Mother never did give up, it's the Same as God above;
When we Hurt our Mother, show Angers, a grieve them too,
We need to say sorry, and also to God this is true.
God and Mother's are almost the same, Forgiving and Receiving,
God just patiently waits for us, to be well behaving;
And say sorry for our sin, He' ll never give up on us,
So is a Mother's Love, she shows love, she'll never fuss.
poem by Margaret Haig

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God-The Mother
It is great
to have a lasting
relationship with God—
As has a mother
towards her child.
Any mistakes committed
by the child
can be freely conveyed
to its mother
and ask for forgiveness
to which the mother quickly responds.
She lovingly wipes the dirt
off the child.
The mother has
nothing but love
towards her child.
She looks after it ever.
In like manner
God cleanses our dirty mind.
God is such a mother to us.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan

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Ee Valliyil Ninnu Chemme
Child: Oh mother! Look, all the flowers on
This plant are flying away
Mother: No! You are wrong my child
These are not flowers, they are butterflies.
Child: Look mother! They look so beautiful
Going one on top of the other into the sky
Oh! How I wish to play with them mother
But like them I cannot fly…
Mother: Don’t waste your precious tears my child
By crying about things you cannot do
You can walk around and play
But can the flowers walk like you?
Child: Mother, can you tell me why these things happen
I shall give you a kissy if you do.
Mother: We know very little about the secrets of life
Though I know God created them for me and you!!
poem by Kumaranashan, translated by Risha Ahmed

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