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Mother and Son Poems

母亲和儿子的诗

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The relationship between a mother and her child is unlike any other relation in this world. A child bonds with his/her mother the very first time he/she lays eyes on her and is touched by her. The bond strengthens as the two of them spend more and more time together. Mother's love is selfless and giving and cannot be replaced by anything else in this world. It is to thank a mother for her unselfish love and care that Mother's Day is celebrated around the world. On this day, one of the best gifts that a child that gives her mother is a collection of poetry, eulogizing her and appreciating her for her efforts in raising him/her up. In the following lines, I have listed a number of mother and son poems, just for you.

Mom & Kid Poetry

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Our Mother is the Sweetest
Our mother is the sweetest and
Most delicate of all.
She knows more of paradise
Than angels can recall.
She's not only beautiful
But passionately young,
Playful as a kid, yet wise
As one who has lived long.

Her love is like the rush of life,
A bubbling, laughing spring
That runs through all like liquid light
And makes the mountains sing.

Mothers are the gardeners
Of wind-blown wild flowers.
They water them with happy tears,
Happy with them many years,
Even as the hours
Ring with sweet, sad melodies
Sighing through their bowers

"Happy Mother's Day" means more
Than have a happy day.
Within those words lie lots of things
We never get to say.

It means I love you first of all,
Then thanks for all you do.
It means you mean a lot to me,
And that I honor you.

But most of all, I guess it means
That I am thinking of
Your happiness on this, your day,
With pleasure and with love.

These Are The Years
These are the years, the gentle years,
The soft and sentimental years
When wee little fingers
Reach and touch

And little eyes gaze
With wonder and trust,
When you love so tenderly
And so so much,
These are the gentle years.
These are the years, the rainbow years,
The quiet, walk-on-tiptoes years,
And smiles and sighs

When both of you watch
With misty eyes
The tiny bed
Where a cherub lies,
These are the rainbow years.
These are the years, the tender years,
The blissful, sweet-surrender years,
When your little treasure

From above
Is the soul and purpose
And center of
Your plans and dreams
And dearest love,
These are the tender years.

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 by Ilya Aliyev Petrovich.

July 18, 2012. in Ankara, Turkey.