Poems of mothers about babies

I created you, I drew you, because the sky is insufficient. I was in this world, but not with you.

Hesitantly hope on my forehead Just place my palm there. And I requested that you come to me, my child!

I prayed to God to assist me in calling you. I can already breathe, but the sky is too much for me right now.

And now, directly beneath my heart Sensing your motions, "I charmed you…" I shall humbly say in reverence.

Okay, so perhaps where the souls I look forward to a new life, it’s you, my sweet Ray, have you charmed me?

Anastasia BoldyrevaEvgenia MelnikovaOksana Plyashkevich

My favorite letter

Ekaterina Romanova

Daughters

My unlived nights and unfulfilled days I wish to experience your fate. You may not want to live like me; instead, you may want to live your own life. You have everything ahead of you.

Allow the same transgressions and errors to happen, but you will be the one to cause them. No matter how much you say here, the path that was chosen for you will remain unclear and unsteady.

And as you continue to burn and burn, burning your soul to the bone, you will come to understand our world—as it is, as it was, as it will be, and as people have shaped it—in which we wish to coexist with you.

Perhaps you are waiting there as well. ferocious vortex The insanity of vivid, wild hues, After all, in order to fully experience its sweetness, we must acknowledge the beauty of life and drink it all in. Elena, 29 years old

To my daughter

I have no knowledge of your life as an adult. You grow like the field’s grass and dream of your own thing.

This evening, you informed me that some people are taken by their mothers. In response, what could I say? Someone has to work, after all.

Additionally, you previously stated: "If only you could leave work at least a little earlier so that it wouldn’t be too late,

You could read me a book, and we would have time to hug. Dear little one, what could I say in response to that? Elena, 29 years old

NEVER OPEN THE DOOR TO STRANGERS

This is a straightforward rule. Never forget: "DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR TO ANYONE IF YOU ARE HOME ALONE."

The best response, should they inquire about opening for a moment, is "THERE ARE NO ADULTS!"

And a decent person simply does it by waiting for the adults and showing perfect comprehension of everything.

And an evildoer will begin to deceive, implore you to open, At the very least, crack open Insert the key into the window.

Or will assert that father Forward it for business purposes, or state that he is "Gorvodokanal" or MONTER.

Or declare: "We’ll turn out the lights in the house if you won’t open!" You alone refuse to give in: "all of the grownups!"

Proceed silently to the room, and call Mom and Dad: Phone: _______________ Elena, 29

VERTION FOR DACE

This is you, my daughter, with your thin braids and black cilia.

Thin shoulders, heartfelt remarks, At night, I gaze upon you.

Little sprout, Scarlet flower Daughter, you’ve grown so much.

Black-Glace, close your eye. I’ll tell you a story from the fairies. Elena, 29 years old

At night

My big little daughter sleeps in a tiny lump on a large sofa.

The blanket is dropped and comforted SPEA, my good, Mom, on the evapo’s forehead.

I never had time to spoil you, so I didn’t even realize how much you had grown.

After receiving care for day after day, everything seemed to go by quickly, and my daughter grew up.

Red sleepwear It shrank too much. You’re tired, my dear, so go to sleep.

Hair is unkempt, cheeks resemble poppies, When are you going to get well? Preventing illness is sufficient.

The evening will come to an end and then A fresh day is about to start. Would you like me to get you a wind-up teddy bear?

Every toy on the bed is there: a mouse at the head of the bed, a hare perched on a pillow, and a sleepy baby.

Elena, 29

By the window

As though I’m gazing into a mirror, via the prism of life’s experiences. Views from the window include a summer shore, a spring forest, winter snow, and

Laughing wildly, seeing old faces, The ball takes off in the air. I reread life, page by page.

First class, lots of bows, grass and smoke smells Sunsets of scarlet flashes through the Lock’s hundreds of windows.

Like a rippling wave, run Life on the water in circles. My daughter is already playing ball in the backyard.

Memories like leaves falling buried under the first snowfall. reflects a dejected expression foggy glass. Elena, 29 years old

Updated 07.04.2010Selection from the forum

Poetry

Lёlya

Is affection a plaything? Purees in jars, perhaps? Love is fundamental and significant, and it begins with mothers!

Her soft hands are love. Swinging ever so delicately, Love, in a mother’s gaze Seldom is resentment evident.

Love is a strong word; it is calm and non-damaging. Love is silent; it won’t break or ruin a person’s spirit.

A mother’s heart is capable of love, even in the darkest moments. Show your baby your love and support as they navigate the unknown and battle.

Love is by the cradle at night. A youngster keeping the peace A mother lullabies her child. Love offers a subdued melody.

Love is not formula or advertised diapers at all. Mom’s good-night kisses are unnecessary for kids!

Even the most exhausted children require a look and a smile. Naturally, being a happy mother is not an easy task.

However, love alone isn’t a toy. Love doesn’t come in jarred purees. Love is very basic: love is motherhood. Mom.

lace

Just avoid becoming ill.

"Please, my darling Bunny, please don’t get sick," the mother softly whispers to her child as she leans over the crib at night.

The mother’s soul weeps when her child becomes ill. Mother doesn’t go to sleep until the morning, cupping your cheek with her palm.

When eyes shine without happiness, A mother’s heart breaks when her child has a fever because she feels powerless to cure them of all ailments.

After carefully wrapping Happiness in a blanket and holding her treasure close to her chest, she uttered the words, "Go away, illness, go away from my son," repeatedly.

And nothing heals as well as a mother’s warmth and care. Love can bring happiness to a child and drive away all problems, illnesses, and evil.

A mother’s top priority in life is her own children’s wellbeing and well-being. Similarly, as they grow older, children show their love for their mother by taking care of her.

Years that have passed… "Just don’t get sick, my dear, I beg you, just don’t get sick," two adult sons whisper to a sick mother in bed.

Sukhoveyka

There are numerous tasks in life. I spend the entire day in a rush because the baby needs me.

I won’t waste any time, and my parents will make my bed for me.

You can’t dress me; I refuse! There are more crucial tasks to complete: Disperse them throughout every corner. plush animals.

A book is beneficial! Look, Mom, I ripped it apart and discovered Knowledge inside.

Don’t shut your mouth; instead, open it: We’re not having breakfast! Right now, we must find our voice.

I won’t be forced to eat lunch! Mom, eat it yourself. Instead, allow me to do it, sweets: sugar, for the brain.

Crucial for kids Maintain a routine: On the carpet in the kitchen, right? We drop off to sleep.

I enjoy taking walks in parks. I don’t need to play ball to be strong. I’ll manage to catch birds!

I also adore swimming. I drown a duck in the bathtub like Archimedes; will it come out or not?

It’s evening now. Time to go to bed. Just not in bed! Tomorrow, fresh developments awaiting my arrival. and mother!

Tria

And this is my prose poem, which I believe every mother can relate to.

Have your hands ever come into contact with the most delicate silk? Have you ever felt a baby’s skin?

Ever listen to the beautiful birdsong in the morning? Have you ever heard a child laugh so loudly that it rings?

Have you ever witnessed the sun’s initial rays? Have you ever noticed a child’s bright eyes when they first saw you?

Have you ever experienced a warm breeze’s soft breath? Has a baby ever fallen asleep on your chest and you felt their warm breath?

Have you ever had leg fatigue keep you from sleeping through the night? Have you ever lain awake admiring the small man who slept soundly beneath your care?

Have you ever smelled the most exquisite flowers? Have you ever smelled a baby who is just born?

Have you ever considered this to be the most significant time in your life? Have you ever encountered a miracle in a typical hospital setting?

Have you ever cried out in agony and wished that the pain would end soon? Have you ever wanted the suffering to go on forever?

Have you ever had a spacecraft view of our planet? Has the universe ever felt like it’s all within your arms?

Ever witness the biggest waterfall? Has the touch of a child’s tear ever touched your palm?

Have you ever wished to forget everything and spend time with yourself only? Have you ever dissolved entirely into the life of someone else and begun to live it?

Ever thought of a bruise as a trifle? Have you ever been more anxious about a mosquito bite than you were about all of my issues?

Have you ever perused a life-affirming prayer? Have you ever had the confidence to give it away without second thought?

Have you ever let the fluff on a dandelions fly away? Ever give a baby’s head a stroke?

Has there ever been a fear you might appear ridiculous? When was the most sincere spontaneity you ever witnessed?

Have you ever heard a butterfly’s wings rustle? Was there ever a time you slept so soundly you could hear it?

Has your heart ever felt like this? Have you ever had the sensation of your heart pounding within your arms?

Have you ever engaged in adult play with children’s games? Have you ever considered playing them every day?

Have you ever experienced the most colorful, joyful, bizarre dreams? Have you ever imagined that they would materialize?

Have you ever held the belief that everyone has some form of disadvantage? Have you ever considered the possibility of becoming immortal? Have you ever imagined yourself to be the happiest person on the planet?

Are you a mother who has given birth before?

Ksaviera

Is the author of this poem about my favorite letter my full namesake, or was it a typo? The poem is fantastic, but I can’t recall writing it. If the poet behind such a poem took offense, it would be awkward.

Asel

Ksaviera, I started crying as I read it.How beautifully you wrote.I showed my friends your poem, and they were all impressed.We’ll be waiting for more of your creations.

Shuyskaya

I also wanted to share my mini-creation, but I was unable to locate the appropriate forum page. *** You keep running, and I’ll stay put. I’ll gaze at the blue sky through the clouds and sigh peacefully, feeling relieved that I’m not running. My son wakes me up in the morning, gets me breakfast, works out, and calls my mother. My maternity leave is flowing as I do the laundry, clean the house, and prepare dinner.

Run, run, and I’ll wait. The sky is gloomy, which is probably a sign that it will rain. Breathing freely and letting out a calm sigh, I’m glad I’m not running. We’ll pull on a coat and some boots. You just need to move fast, son—don’t run. I’m splashing beside you as I thank you for laughingly running through the puddles.

While I sit and tell the baby about the starry sky, you run and run. Breathing freely and letting out a calm sigh, I’m glad I’m not running. I will tell you the story of Ryaba the little chicken, the turnip, and the elderly man. How much happiness is enough for a woman? Another beautiful day has passed. My son dozed off in his crib here.

shuyskaya

Mothers’ poems about their children encapsulate the intense feelings, tender moments, and abiding love that characterize the early years of motherhood. These poems give readers a special look into the relationship between a mother and her child by reflecting on the pleasures, difficulties, and life-changing events of parenting.

Heartfelt and very touching poems. I appreciate you sharing this enormous and brilliant. I read the passages about "the sky, which is not enough" and "conjured up" multiple times; I will definitely keep them. Additionally, "big, little daughter" and "I don’t think about the door open" are also noteworthy poems. All things considered, "SIBmama" needs to be compiled. Regarding the preferred letter, generally speaking, you must begin each line with the same letter! Many thanks for that.

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