Mom poems
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Over and Over Stitch
© Jorie Graham
Late in the season the world digs in, the fat blossoms
hold still for just a moment longer.
Nothing looks satisfied,
but there is no real reason to move on much further:
this isn’t a bad place;
why not pretend
This Room and Everything in It
© Li-Young Lee
Lie still now
while I prepare for my future,
certain hard days ahead,
when I’ll need what I know so clearly this moment.
The Secular Masque
© John Dryden
JANUS
Since Momus comes to laugh below,
Old Time begin the show,
That he may see, in every scene,
What changes in this age have been,
Mothers
© Nikki Giovanni
the last time i was home
to see my mother we kissed
exchanged pleasantries
and unpleasantries pulled a warm
comforting silence around
us and read separate books
September Notebook: Stories
© Robert Hass
Driving up 80 in the haze, they talked and talked.
(Smoke in the air shimmering from wildfires.)
His story was sad and hers was roiled, troubled.
Confluence
© Yusef Komunyakaa
I’ve been here before, dreaming myself
backwards, among grappling hooks of light.
The Flurry
© Sharon Olds
When we talk about when to tell the kids,
we are so together, so concentrated.
The Sundays of Satin-Legs Smith
© Gwendolyn Brooks
He wakes, unwinds, elaborately: a cat
Tawny, reluctant, royal. He is fat
And fine this morning. Definite. Reimbursed.
The Author to His Body on Their Fifteenth Birthday, 29 ii 80
© Howard Nemerov
“There’s never a dull moment in the human body.”
—The Insight Lady
Helen: A Revision
© Jack Spicer
And if he dies on this road throw wild blackberries at his ghost
And if he doesn't, and he won't, hope the cost
Hope the cost.
Winter Dawn
© Kenneth Slessor
At five I wake, rise, rub on the smoking pane
A port to see—water breathing in the air,
Nest
© Jeffrey Harrison
It wasn’t until we got the Christmas tree
into the house and up on the stand
that our daughter discovered a small bird’s nest
tucked among its needled branches.
They eat out
© Margaret Atwood
As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.
She Was a Phantom of Delight
© André Breton
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
The Shadow on the Stone
© Thomas Hardy
I went by the Druid stone
That broods in the garden white and lone,
Far Company
© William Stanley Merwin
At times now from some margin of the day
I can hear birds of another country
Sonnet XV: When I Consider everything that Grows
© William Shakespeare
When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
