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Have you ever read a poem that made you do a sharp breath, while your hand moved right to your heart? Here are four poems that made me do just that\u2026<\/p>\n
What Children Say<\/strong> I can\u2019t reach my cup, my water bottle, The Lanyard<\/strong> The other day I was ricocheting slowly No cookie nibbled by a French novelist I had never seen anyone use a lanyard She gave me life and milk from her breasts, and taught me to walk and swim, Here is a breathing body and a beating heart, that you can never repay your mother, The Committee Weighs In<\/strong> I tell my mother Again? she says. Which It\u2019s a little game I\u2019m somebody, she Mother, a Cradle to Hold Me<\/strong> It is true Mother, Time passed steadily and drew us apart. That one day you would have to stand You thought you know me, The way you posed your head You were always I loved you even during the years Mother, I have learned enough now I thank you, Mother. What parenting poems \u2014 or other poems \u2014 do you love?<\/strong> I feel so full of emotion after reading these; I\u2019m having to do hard gulps! Also, if you\u2019re interested, the book Poetry Is Not a Luxury<\/a> came out this weekend \u2014 curated by the anonymous person behind the Instagram account<\/a> of the same name. xo<\/p>\n P.S. My motherhood mantra<\/a>, and how romantic is this poem?<\/a><\/p>\n (Photos, from top, by Koganami Studio, Dream Lover, Felix Chacon, J.Anthony; all through Stocksy.) <\/p>\n
by Kate Baer<\/a><\/p>\n
the snack up on the shelf. I can\u2019t do
it. I won\u2019t do it. I would never do it
in a million years. You need to help
me. Help me faster. Do it the way
I asked you to. I don\u2019t like pizza or
watermelon. I don\u2019t like anything I
liked before. I do not want it. I do
not need it. I will never move up off
this floor. Do not help me. Do not
hold me. Do not sit down beside my
bed. I\u2019m not sleeping. I\u2019m not tired.
I\u2019m too scared to fall asleep. You must
hold me. You must rock me. Do not
leave me all alone. I am thirsty. I am
hungry. I am too tired to put my toys
away. Do not be angry. Do not start
singing. Where is the butterfly I drew?
I\u2019m still hungry. I\u2019m still playing. Will
you leave me? Will you stay?<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/cupofjo.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/6806436.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
by Billy Collins<\/p>\n
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.<\/p>\n
could send one into the past more suddenly\u2014
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.<\/p>\n
or wear one, if that\u2019s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.<\/p>\n
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light<\/p>\n
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.<\/p>\n
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift \u2014 not the worn truth<\/p>\n
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/cupofjo.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/3978986.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
by Andrea Cohen<\/a><\/p>\n
I\u2019ve won the Nobel Prize.<\/p>\n
discipline this time?<\/p>\n
we play: I pretend<\/p>\n
pretends she isn\u2019t dead.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/cupofjo.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/mother-baby-mirror.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
by Maya Angelou<\/a><\/p>\n
I was created in you.
It is also true
That you were created for me.
I owned your voice.
It was shaped and tuned to soothe me.
Your arms were molded
Into a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
The scent of your body was the air
Perfumed for me to breathe.<\/p>\n
During those early, dearest days
I did not dream that you had
A large life which included me,
For I had a life
Which was only you.<\/p>\n
I was unwilling.
I feared if I let you go
You would leave me eternally.
You smiled at my fears, saying
I could not stay in your lap forever.<\/p>\n
And where would I be?
You smiled again.
I did not.
Without warning you left me,
But you returned immediately.
You left again and returned,
I admit, quickly,
But relief did not rest with me easily.
You left again, but again returned.
You left again, but again returned.
Each time you reentered my world
You brought assurance.
Slowly I gained confidence.<\/p>\n
But I did know you,
You thought you were watching me,
But I did hold you securely in my sight,
Recording every moment,
Memorizing your smiles, tracing your frowns.
In your absence
I rehearsed you,
The way you had of singing
On a breeze,
While a sob lay
At the root of your song.<\/p>\n
So that the light could caress your face
When you put your fingers on my hand
And your hand on my arm,
I was blessed with a sense of health,
Of strength and very good fortune.<\/p>\n
the heart of happiness to me,
Bringing nougats of glee,
Sweets of open laughter.<\/p>\n
When you knew nothing
And I knew everything, I loved you still.
Condescendingly of course,
From my high perch
Of teenage wisdom.
I spoke sharply of you, often
Because you were slow to understand.
I grew older and
Was stunned to find
How much knowledge you had gleaned.
And so quickly.<\/p>\n
To know I have learned nearly nothing.
On this day
When mothers are being honored,
Let me thank you
That my selfishness, ignorance, and mockery
Did not bring you to
Discard me like a broken doll
Which had lost its favor.
I thank you that
You still find something in me
To cherish, to admire and to love.<\/p>\n
I love you.<\/p>\n