Mother's Day Inspirational Poems



"You don't love me!"
How many times have your kids laid that one on you?
And how many times have you, as a parent, resisted the urge to tell them how much?

Someday, when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I'll tell them.

I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money that we could afford and you couldn't.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your handpicked friend was a creep;

I loved you enough to make you return a Milky Way with a bite out of it to a drugstore and say, "I stole this."

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me fifteen minutes.

I loved you enough to say, "Yes, you may go to Disney World on Mother's Day."

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust and tears in my eyes.

I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or you bad manners.

I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask your forgiveness.

I loved you enough to ignore "what every other mother" did or said.

I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt and fail.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at 6, 10, and 16.

I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned but forgave you for it after discovering I was right.

I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your that you had to stand alone.

I loved you enough to accept you for what you are,
not what I wanted you to be.

But most of all, I loved you enough to say no
when you hated me for it.


~~ Author Unknown


"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom.
"Because I'm a mother," she told him.
"I don't understand," he said.
His mom just hugged him and said, "You never will!"

Later the little boy asked his father
why Mother seemed to cry for no reason.
"All mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry. So he finally put in a call to God, and when God got on the phone, the man said, "God, why do mothers cry so easily?"

God said, "You see, son, when I made mothers, they had to be special. "I made their shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

"I gave them an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times come from their children.

"I gave them a hardiness that allows them to keep going when everyone else gives up, and to take care of their families
through sickness and fatigue without complaining.

"I gave them the sensitivity to love their children under all circumstances, even when their child has hurt them very badly.

"This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's boo-boo feel better and helps them share a teenager's anxieties and fears.

"I gave them a tear to shed. It's theirs exclusively to use whenever it's needed. It's their only weakness.
It's a tear for mankind."


The child stood sadly looking down,
Staring at something on the ground.
Her mother's words were harsh and sharp;
She felt them tearing her apart.

The silent tears rolled down her cheek,
But still she stood, mute and meek.
She knew somehow she was rejected,
Although physically, she was not neglected.

She wasn't yet in her teens,
Just a tomboy, in blue jeans.
She had learned to live with pain;
Throughout her days, it would remain.

Again her mind wondered, "Why?"
Perhaps she'd know, by and by.
There must be something awfully wrong,
She guessed she'd known it all along.

Maybe it was her own plain looks,
She'd read of it in some books.
How to a mother of unusual beauty,
Her plain child might be an unwanted duty.

But her mother was so fair,
If there was any trouble there,
The fault must surely be her own,
Oh, how she wished that she was grown.

Then she would go away and hide,
While her heart just ached and cried.
Finally the hurting words had ceased,
From their cruel blows she was released.

So she turned and walked away,
She knew better than to stay.
In her room she closed her door,
And cried 'til she could cry no more.

Then she prepared herself for bed,
Washed her face, with eyes so red.
She wished her Mom would hug her tight.
And, just once, kiss her goodnight.

At last she crawled into her bed;
Silently, her prayers were said.
"Please, Lord, just let Mom love me,
And, oh, so good I'll always be."

The years have passed, the scene has changed,
Mother and daughter still remain.
The mother now is growing old,
The child, once warm, has grown so cold.

Somehow, the roles are now reversed,
The mother's last, The daughter's first,
The beauty, too, has been exchanged.
It seems that nature rearranged.

The child, now grown, has beauty fair,
There is none other to compare,
While the mother has grown old and gray,
Her loveliness has passed away.

The mother looks up at her now grown child,
And tries to please her, with a smile.
But the daughter coldly turns away,
She's much too busy to stop today.

Let the old lady sit awhile,
She's not about to change her style.
She walks out, with no good-bye,
And the old mother starts to cry.

Oh, if she could only just erase,
The coldness from her daughter's face.
If she'd just come and hug her tight,
And kiss her withered face goodnight.

If those lost years she could recall,
She'd live them over, one and all.
She'd give the love, she now so longs to get,
And then be rid of this regret.

But she knows, this can't be so.
Years don't come back, once they go.
So she must live with being spurned,
The things she taught, were so well learned.

So I leave you, with this thought:
Please take heed, lest you get caught.
Live long enough and you will see,
As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.

Connie Eppes


When the Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared, and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And the Lord said, "Have you seen the specs on this order? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic; have 180 moveable parts.. .all replaceable; run on black coffee and leftovers; Have a lap that disappears when she stands up; a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair; and six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said "Six Pairs of hands?.... No way."

"Its not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord. "It's those three pairs of eyes that mothers have."

"Is that on the standard model?" asked the angel?

The Lord nodded His head. "one pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'what are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't, but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say, 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

"Lord" said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "come to bed Tomorrow...."

"I cant" said the Lord, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick.. Can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower.

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly, "Its too soft." she sighed.

"But tough!" said the Lord excitedly. "you cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure ...."

The angel then ask, "can she think?"

Not only think, but she can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally the angel bent over and ran a finger across the cheek, "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You, You were trying to put too much into this model."

"It's not a leak," said the Lord, "it's a tear."

"What's it for?" asked the angel.

"It's for joy, sadness, pain, disappointment, loneliness, and pride."
"Lord You are a genius," said the angel.

The Lord looked somber and said, I did not put it there."

~ Erma Bombeck ~


Once upon a time there was a child ready to be born. So one day he asked God:

"They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"

"Among the many angels, I chose one for you. She will be waiting for you and will take care of you."

"But tell me, here in Heaven, I don't do anything else but sing and smile, that's enough for me to be happy."

"Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you every day. And you will feel your angel's love and be happy."

"And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me, if I don't know the language that men talk?"

"Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."

"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"

"Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."

"I've heard that on earth there are bad men. Who will protect me?"

"Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life."

"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."

"Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way for you to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you."

At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from earth could already be heard, and the child in a hurry asked softly:

"Oh God, if I am about to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."

"Your angel's name is of no importance, you will call your angel,

~ Author Unknown ~


1. My hands are small; please do not expect perfection whenever I make a bed, draw a picture, or throw a ball. My legs are short; slow down so that I can keep up with you.

2. My eyes have not seen the world as yours have; let me explore it safely; do not restrict me unnecessarily.

3. Housework will always be there; I am little only for a short time. Take time to explain things to me about this wonderful world, and do so willingly.

4. My feelings are tender; do not nag me all day long (you would not want to be nagged for your inquisitiveness). Treat me as you would like to be treated.

5. I am a special gift from God; treasure me as God intended you to do -- holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guidelines to live by, and discipline me in a loving manner.

6. I need your encouragement (but not your empty praise) to grow. Go easy on the criticism; remember you can criticize the things I do without criticizing me.

7. Give me the freedom to make decisions concerning myself. Permit me to fail, so that I can learn from my mistakes. Then someday I will be prepared to make the decisions life will require of me.

8. Do not do things for me; that makes me feel that my efforts did not measure up to your expectations. I know its hard, but don't compare me with my brother or sister.

9. Do not be afraid to leave for a weekend together. Kids need vacations from parents, and parents need vacations from kids. Besides, it's a great way to show us kids that your marriage is something special.

10. Take me to Sunday school and church regularly, setting a good example for me to follow. I enjoy learning more about God.


If I'm not sure of who I am,
I just need to look at you.
You're the kind of person I'd like to be...
One who strives to be like Jesus.

I won't compare your beauty to that Rose,
Although I've seen you display God's grace
when life handed you thorns.
No, your humility would not allow it.

Instead I will just remind you, Mom,
that even a little green sprig is celebrated
in a sun-scorched desert.
Yes, you are a sign of living water
in a land of thirsty hearts and souls.

I won't compare your strength to a mighty tree,
although you've shaded many weary people,
in the healing leaves of your prayers;
and fed them by the fruits of the Spirit
abundantly growing from He Who dwells within you.

Instead I will remind you, Mom,
that all it takes is a few broken twigs
to create a storm-sheltering nest.
And the faith of a little mustard seed
moves God's heart to produce miracles.

And I won't compare your loving heart
to all the mothers' hearts of the world,
because you have the heart
of the loving Heavenly Father.

I love you, Mom,
the way you have taught me to love,
With the love of the Lord.

~~ Melanie Cummings

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