70+ Inspirational And Short Poems About Mother And Daughter

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Mothers and daughters share a strong bond. Their relationship evolves with time. If you want to spend some beautiful moments together, sharing some mother-daughter poems can help.

A mother becomes a teacher and guide for her little princess and later tries to be her confidante and friend. As time passes, they become best buddies sharing everything they go through in their lives.

You may share your feelings and pay her your heartfelt tribute by sending touching poems depicting your relationship. Don’t wait for a special day to share these poems; instead, make a casual day memorable. Read on.

Poems About Mothers And Daughters

Here are a few poems that bring out the essence of the deep affection and care shared between mother and daughter. If you want to give an ode to a wonderful mother or a perfect daughter, look no further.

Inspirational Poems On Mother-Daughter

Image: Shutterstock

Simple lines on how a daughter or mother perceives the other can often be inspiring, revealing the deep sentiment of their bond and the immense value they bring to each other’s lives.

1. My Miracle Mother

Mom, I look at you
and see a walking miracle.
Your unfailing love without limit,
your ability to soothe my every hurt,
the way you are on duty, unselfishly,
every hour, every day,
makes me so grateful
that I am yours, and you are mine.
With open arms and open heart,
with enduring patience and inner strength,
you gave so much for me,
sometimes at your expense.
You are my teacher,
my comforter, my encourager,
appreciating all, forgiving all.
Sometimes I took you for granted, Mom,
but I don’t now, and I never will again.
I know that everything I am today
relates to you and your loving care.
I gaze in wonder
as I watch you being you—
my miracle, my mother.

—Joanna Fuchs

2. Other Half

A daughter is someone,
you may always depend,
With a beautiful heart,
She’s your very close friend.
About anything, you may,
open and talk,
Seek helpful advice,
during a refreshing nice walk.
Her closeness will comfort you,
when you’re just feeling down,
Understands you so well,
every expression and frown.
A daughter is someone,
you may joke with and laugh,
She is clearly,
your other half.

—Unknown

3. I Love My Daughter

I love my daughter,
with my heart and soul,
Having her in my life,
makes me peaceful and whole.
She brings me joy,
and happiness so sweet,
When she feels pain,
my heart skips a beat.
I love my daughter,
She’s gentle and kind,
She’s so thoughtful,
and has a beautiful mind.
She’s one of those people,
that instinctively cares,
Her time and knowledge,
with others she shares.
I love my daughter,
since her birth, I have won,
She knows how to laugh,
and loves to have fun.
Since she was a child,
She’d routinely amaze,
I’ll love my daughter,
beyond the end of my days.

—Unknown

4. Nobody’s Like You, Mom

Nobody’s quite like you, Mom.
You’re special in every way.
You cheer me up, you fill my cup
With tenderness, come what may.

Nobody loves me like you, Mom.
No matter what I do,
Good or bad, happy or sad,
You support me; You always come through.

Nobody’s equal to you, Mom.
With you in my life, I’m blessed.
I love you so, and I want you to know
I think you’re the very best!

—Joanna Fuchs

5. Precious Rose

From the day that you were born,
and I held you very close,
I knew in my joyful heart,
that you’re my very precious rose.

My life changed for the better,
I felt it in my heart,
I just knew, for the rest of my life,
We’d never be apart.

Months and years have passed,
and I watched you mature and grow,
I promised myself, forever,
my love for you, I’ll show.

I wish you a beautiful life,
filled with joy and infinite bliss,
I’ll always be your mother,
and my precious rose I kiss.

—Unknown

6. I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and wants during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everyday jug,
like my mother’s face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

— Rainer Maria Rilke

7. To Be a Great Mother

A great mother loves without reason
Through winter, summer, spring, and fall
Her love is unalterable, despite the season.
A great mother knows when to talk
And just how to listen.
She knows when to walk away
And save the battle for another day.
Even when she’s angry
She never takes it out on others.
That’s why only a few women
Can indeed be called great mothers.
Only one woman can be the Best mother,
And Mom, That’s You.

— Anonymous

8. Wise Mother

You didn’t talk a lot, Mom;
“I love you” was pretty rare,
But when I needed mothering,
You were always there.

I could always count on you, Mom
To do what’s good and right.
I’d see your wisdom and the truth,
So we’d rarely have to fight.

You were strong enough, yet gentle enough
To be the perfect mother;
If I could search the whole wide world,
I wouldn’t pick any other.

— Joanna Fuchs

9. A Mother’s Love

A Mother’s love is something
that no one can explain,
It is made of deep devotion
and of sacrifice and pain,

It is endless and unselfish
and enduring come what may,
For nothing can destroy it
or take that love away,

It is patient and forgiving
when all others are forsaking,
And it never fails or falters
even though the heart is breaking,

It believes beyond believing
when the world around condemns,
And it glows with all the beauty
of the rarest, brightest gems,

It is far beyond defining,
it defies all explanation,
And it still remains a secret
like the mysteries of creation,

A many splendored miracle
man cannot understand
And another wondrous evidence
of God’s tender guiding hand.

— Helen Steiner Rice

10. Mother

Image: Shutterstock

Your love was like moonlight
turning harsh things to beauty,
so that little wry souls
reflecting each other obliquely
as in cracked mirrors …beheld in your luminous spirit
their own reflection,
transfigured as in a shining stream,
and loved you for what they are not.

You are less an image in my mind
than a luster
I see you in gleams
pale as star-light on a grey wall …
evanescent as the reflection of a white swan
shimmering in broken water.

— Lola Ridge

11. I Can Count On You

Mom, whenever I feel weak,
I can count on you.
Your deep strength seems endless.

You let me draw on it,
you freely give it,
and I recover.

Mom whenever I stray from the path,
I can count on you.
You’re here for me.

You help me find my way back
to what’s right
and honest and worthwhile.

Mom whenever I get
too wrapped up in me, me, me,
I can count on you.

You quickly bring me back to earth,
reminding me of the importance
of love and service to others.

Everyone should have
a role model like you, Mom.
I love you,

and I want you to know:
you can count on me.

— Joanna Fuchs

12. A Thank You Note

You have told me
All the things
I need to hear
Before I knew
I needed to hear them
To be unafraid
Of all the things
I used to fear,
Before I knew
I shouldn’t fear them.

— Lang Leav

13. Daughter of My Heart

You turned out even better
Than I often dreamed you’d be;
You’re more than I had hoped for;
You’re a sweet reward to me.

You grew up to be a mother
Full of wisdom, warmth and love,
A good and fine role model,
A blessing from above.

I couldn’t be any prouder
Than I am today of you;
You’re my daughter and my friend,
And a wonderful person, too.

You have my love forever;
I adored you from the start;
It’s a privilege to be your mother,
Dear daughter of my heart.

— Joanna Fuchs

14. First Fall

I’m your guide here. In the evening-dark
morning streets, I point and name.
Look, the sycamores, their mottled,
paint-by-number bark. Look, the leaves
rusting and crisping at the edges.
I walk through Schiller Park with you
on my chest. Stars smolder well
into daylight. Look, the pond, the ducks,
the dogs paddling after their prized sticks.
Fall is when the only things you know
because I’ve named them
begin to end. Soon I’ll have another
season to offer you: frost soft
on the window and a porthole
sighed there, ice sleeving the bare
gray branches. The first time you see
something die, you won’t know it might
come back. I’m desperate for you
to love the world because I brought you here.

— Maggie Smith

15. The Daughter

We said she was a negative image of me because of her lightness.
She’s light and also passage, the glory in my cortex.
Daughter, where did you get all that goddess?
Her eyes are Neruda’s two dark pools at twilight.
Sometimes she’s a stranger in my home because I hadn’t imagined her.
Who will her daughter be?
She and I are the gradual ebb of my mother’s darkness.
I unfurl the ribbon of her life, and it’s a smooth long hallway, doors flung open.
Her surface is a deflection is why.
Harm on her, harm on us all.
Inside her, my grit and timbre, my reckless.

—Carmen Giménez Smith

16. Daughter, Sent From Heaven

You are the daughter
Parents dream to get
Everyone out there
Is jealous of me I bet
You are the princess
Every mum and dad would love
You are our little angel
Sent from the heavens above

— Anonymous

17. Just Like You

So from now to the time
You are grey just like me
Darling, sing to your babes
As I sang to thee;
They shall grow to be kind,
To be honest and true;
They shall grow to be wonderful,
Just like you.

— Anonymous

18. Bella

My wonderful daughter, delight of my heart,
I hope that you know you’re both lovely and smart.
I cherish you dearly for the person you are,
You have passion and caring that will carry you far.

Wherever you go you’ll be watched by my love,
And we’ll always be close like a hand in a glove.
May the years treat you kindly, may laughter hold sway,
And I’m here for you always if your blue skies turn gray.

—Amanda R

19. You Are An Angel

You are an angel my dear, an angel you’re to us,
An angel who has been sent from heaven on earth.
You were wrapped in silver paper and placed in a beautiful basket,
You looked like this lovely jewel or a diamond placed in a casket.
God sent you to us and we promised him we’ll treat you right,
‘coz you were a gift sent to us under the stars in moonlight.
We love you little daughter, ‘coz you’re an angel from heaven.

— Anonymous

20. Pheidippedes’ Daughter

Long silver girl who slipped easy
and early from the womb’s waters,
whose child-breath was a bird in a cage,
the inhaler in her fist her amulet,

grew tall, beautiful, caught her breath,
outran the hound, the hare, the myth,
the otter, salmon, swallow, hawk,
the river, the road, the track.

She texts again – this time Santiago.
She’s counting seven cities underfoot,
running the bloodlines of language, lineage,
for Ceridwen’s drop of gold, an ear of corn,

to leave the Battle of Marathon and run
through pain and joy with news to the gates of a city,
to arrive at the finishing line, and say,
‘Nenikékamen – We have won.’

– Gillian Clarke, https://www.poetryinternational.com

21. My Mother

Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush’d me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
My Mother.
When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rock’d me that I should not cry?
My Mother.

Who sat and watch’d my infant head,
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gaz’d upon my heavy eye,
And wept, for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who drest my doll in clothes so gay,
And taught me pretty how to play,
And minded all I had to say?
My Mother.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

– Ann Taylor, digital.library.upenn.edu

22. The Raincoat

When the doctor suggested surgery
and a brace for all my youngest years,
my parents scrambled to take me
to massage therapy, deep tissue work,
osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine
unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,
and move more in a body unclouded
by pain. My mom would tell me to sing
songs to her the whole forty-five minute
drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-
five minutes back from physical therapy.
She’d say, even my voice sounded unfettered
by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,
because I thought she liked it. I never
asked her what she gave up to drive me,
or how her day was before this chore. Today,
at her age, I was driving myself home from yet
another spine appointment, singing along
to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,
and I saw a mom take her raincoat off
and give it to her young daughter when
a storm took over the afternoon. My god,
I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her
raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel
that I never got wet.

– Ada Limón, poets.org

23. Mothers

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

i remember the first time
i consciously saw her
we were living in a three room
apartment on burns avenue

mommy always sat in the dark
i don’t know how i knew that but she did

that night i stumbled into the kitchen
maybe because i’ve always been
a night person or perhaps because i had wet
the bed
she was sitting on a chair
the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through
those thousands of panes landlords who rented
to people with children were prone to put in windows
she may have been smoking but maybe not
her hair was three-quarters her height
which made me a strong believer in the samson myth
and very black

i’m sure i just hung there by the door
i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady

she was very deliberately waiting
perhaps for my father to come home
from his night job or maybe for a dream
that had promised to come by
“come here” she said “i’ll teach you
a poem: i see the moon
the moon sees me
god bless the moon
and god bless me”
i taught it to my son
who recited it for her
just to say we must learn
to bear the pleasures
as we have borne the pains

– Nikki Giovanni, poetryfoundation.org

24. Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come.
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honoured name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.

– Christina Rossetti, poets.org

25. B (If I Should Have a Daughter)

If I should have a daughter, instead of mom, she’s going to call me Point B,

because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
at least she can always find her way to me.

And I am going to paint the Solar Systems on the backs of her hands,
so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say ‘Oh, I know that like the back of my hand’

And she’s going to learn that this life will hit you,
hard,
in the face,
wait for you to get back up, just so it can kick you in the stomach
but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

There is hurt, fear that cannot be fixed by band aids or poetry
so the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn’t coming
I’ll make sure she knows she does not have to wear the cape all by herself
because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal.

Believe me, I’ve tried

And baby, I’ll tell her, don’t keep your nose up in the air like that
I know that trick, I’ve done it a million times
You’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail
back to a burning house so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire
to see if you can save him.

Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him
But I know she will anyway, so instead, I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate
and rainboots nearby.

Because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix.
Ok, there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix,
but that’s what the rainboots are for because rain will
wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass bottomed boat
To look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind
Because that’s the way my mom taught me.

That there’ll be days like this
that there’s be days like this my mama said
When you open your hands to catch, and wind up with only blisters and bruises.
When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly

And the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape
When your boots will fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment
and those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you

because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop
kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it is sent away.

You will put the win in winsome … lose some
You will put the star in starting over and over.

And no matter how many landmines erupt in a minute
be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.
And yes, on a scale from one to overtrusting, I am pretty damn naive.

But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily.
But don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
Baby, I’ll tell her, remember your mama is a worrier
and your papa is a warrior.

And you’re the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.
Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and
always apologize when you’ve done something wrong

but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining,
your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing.

And when they finally hand you a heartache,
when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street corners
of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that
they
really ought to meet your mother.

– Sarah Kay

26. My Mother, My Mother

When I was a child I would run
through the backyard while my father
yanked dandelions, daisies, thistles, crabgrass,
mowed, rearranged the stones around the porch—
the task of men, though I didn’t know.
Blushed with cartoons and chocolate milk
one Saturday, I found a bee working
a dandelion for its treasure the way
only God’s creatures can, giving
and giving until all that is left
is the act itself—and there’s faith, too,
my mother used to say in her magnolia lilt.
It comes as it comes—there’s a road to follow.
When I swat the bee, I plea in triumph.
My father, knee-drenched in manhood,
grins and his gold tooth glistens a likely tale.
And when the bee stings my ear,
I run to him screaming as my mother
runs outside hearing her only child’s voice
peel back the wallpaper. She charms my ear
with kisses. This afternoon, I notice a bee
trapped inside the window as my mother
on the phone tries to still her voice
to say her mother has died. I wonder if he can
taste the sadness, the man on TV tells the other.
The bee is so calm. The room enlists
a fresh haunting, and the doorframe bothers.
To believe her when she says—
as the bouquet of yellow roses on the dresser
bows its head and the angles of my clay bloom
with fire—it’ll be okay, is my duty as son.
My mother sits in the hospital in San Antonio,
motherless—my mother is now a mother
without the longest love she’s ever known.
My mother who used to wake up
before the slap of sunrise with my father
to build new rooftops. My mother who wrote
“I pray you have a great day”
on stupid notes tucked in my lunchbox.
My mother who told the white woman
in Ross to apologize for bumping into me
as I knocked over a rack of pantyhose.
My mother who cried in Sea-Tac airport
as I walked through customs, yes-ing
the woman who asks, Is it his first time
moving from home? My mother who looks
at me with glinted simper when the pastor spouts
“disobedient children.” My mother who was told
at a young age she’d never give birth,
barren as she were. My mother, my mother.
What rises inside me, I imagine inside her, although
I’ve never had a mother leave this earth.
I’ve never been without love.

– Luther Hughes, poets.org

27. A Prayer for my Daughter

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory’s wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind,
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger’s eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.

Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man.
It’s certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

In courtesy I’d have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty’s very self, has charm made wise,
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree
That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,
And have no business but dispensing round
Their magnanimities of sound,
Nor but in merriment begin a chase,
Nor but in merriment a quarrel.
O may she live like some green laurel
Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,
The sort of beauty that I have approved,
Prosper but little, has dried up of late,
Yet knows that to be choked with hate
May well be of all evil chances chief.
If there’s no hatred in a mind
Assault and battery of the wind
Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,
So let her think opinions are accursed.
Have I not seen the loveliest woman born
Out of the mouth of Plenty’s horn,
Because of her opinionated mind
Barter that horn and every good
By quiet natures understood
For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven’s will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house
Where all’s accustomed, ceremonious;
For arrogance and hatred are the wares
Peddled in the thoroughfares.
How but in custom and in ceremony
Are innocence and beauty born?
Ceremony’s a name for the rich horn,
And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

– W.B. Yeats, poets.org

28. Christmas Eve: My Mother Dressing

My mother was not impressed with her beauty;
once a year she put it on like a costume,
plaited her black hair, slick as cornsilk, down past her hips,
in one rope-thick braid, turned it, carefully, hand over hand,
and fixed it at the nape of her neck, stiff and elegant as a crown,
with tortoise pins, like huge insects,
some belonging to her dead mother,
some to my living grandmother.
Sitting on the stool at the mirror,
she applied a peachy foundation that seemed to hold her down, to trap her,
as if we never would have noticed what flew among us
unless it was weighted and bound in its mask.
Vaseline shined her eyebrows,
mascara blackened her lashes until they swept down like feathers;
her eyes deepened until they shone from far away.

Now I remember her hands, her poor hands, which, even
then were old from scrubbing, whiter on the inside than they should have been,
and hard, the first joints of her fingers, little fattened pads,
the nails filed to sharp points like old-fashioned ink pens, painted a jolly color.
Her hands stood next to her face and wanted to be put away, prayed
for the scrub bucket and brush to make them useful.
And, as I write, I forget the years I watched her
pull hairs like a witch from her chin, magnify
every blotch—as if acid were thrown from the inside.

But once a year my mother
rose in her white silk slip,
not the slave of the house, the woman,
took the ironed dress from the hanger—
allowing me to stand on the bed, so that
my face looked directly into her face,
and hold the garment away from her
as she pulled it down.

– Toi Derricotte, poets.org

29. Another Poem for Mothers

Mother, I’m trying
to write
a poem to you—

which is how most
poems to mothers must
begin—or, What I’ve wanted
to say, Mother…but we
as children of mothers,
even when mothers ourselves,

cannot bear our poems
to them. Poems to
mothers make us feel

little again. How to describe
that world that mothers spin
and consume and trap

and love us in, that spreads
for years and men and miles?
Those particular hands that could

smooth anything: butter on bread,
cool sheets or weather. It’s
the wonder of them, good or bad,

those mother-hands that pet
and shape and slap,
that sew you together
the pieces of a better house
or life in which you’ll try
to live. Mother,

I’ve done no better
than the others, but for now,
here is your clever failure.

– Erin Belieu, poets.org

Short Mother-Daughter Poems

Image: Shutterstock

You don’t need to write a thousand words to convey your admiration or adoration or to tell your mother or daughter how much they mean to you. Here are a few short and sweet poems that express what a mother-daughter relationship is all about.

30. A Newborn Girl at Passover

Consider one apricot in a basket of them.
It is very much like all the other apricots–
an individual already, skin and seed.

Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.
The next breath you take, a long drink of air.
Holiday or not, it doesn’t matter.

A child is born and doesn’t know what day it is.
The particular joy in my heart she cannot imagine.
The taste of apricots is in store for her.

— Nan Cohen

31. Loved By All

High as the sky
Deep as the sea
Is how much you are
Loved by the family
Wide as the desert
Long as the eucalyptus
Is how much you are
Loved by all of us.

— Anonymous

32. Salt

My mother
Was my first country,
The first place I ever lived.

— Nayyirah Waheed

33. To My Mother

Today’s your natal day;
Sweet flowers I bring:
Mother, accept, I pray
My offering.
And may you happy live,
And long us bless:
Receiving as you give

— Christina Rossetti

34. A Friend

Your arms were always open when I needed a hug.
Your heart understood when I needed a friend.
Your gentle eyes were stern when I needed a lesson.
Your strength and love has guided me and gave me wings to fly.

— Sarah Malin

35. I Will Have to Wait ‘Till I’m Mother

I struggle so deeply
to understand
how someone can
pour their entire soul
blood and energy
into someone
without wanting
anything in
return
I will have to wait till I’m a mother

– Rupi Kaur

36. A Mother

When you’re a child, she walks before you
To set an example.
When you’re a teenager, she walks behind you
To be there should you need her.
When you’re an adult, she walks beside you
So that as two friends you can enjoy life together.

– Unknown

37. Sunshine

My Mother, my friend so dear,
Throughout my life you’re always near.
A tender smile to guide my way,
You’re the sunshine to light my day.

— Anonymous

38. Blessing

There is no blessing
Quite so dear…
As a mom like you
To love year after year.

— Anonymous

39. Shortest Mother’s Day Poem

You’re my mother,
I would have no other!

— Forest Houtenschil

40. Little Wishes

Little wishes on great big stars.
Daughter, I make a wishes for you.
Keep on growing and keep on smiling.
And I’ll keep loving all that you do.

Little dreamers wishing big things.
The world is your stage to display.
You can sing and you can dance.
Enjoy all that comes your way.

Little hopes in a great big world.
Nothing can stop your free spirit.
Make some noise, play a beat.
It’s beautiful music when I hear it.

Little kisses from my now big girl,
You’re growing up so fast it seems.
Pretty soon you’ll leave the nest
And fly after all of your dreams.

Little girl I love you,
And I love you even more.
Because I made a wish once,
And you’re what I wished for

– Casarah Nance

41. Mother To Daughter

As an infant in my arms,
As a baby on my shoulder,
As a child on my laps,
As a kid held by my hand,
As a girl kept in my care,
As a spinster in my guard,
As a bride with my concern,
As a mother kept in focus,
You have drifted away from me.
Distance extends.
Relation fades.
Umbilical cord reminds
You are a part of me.
My concern for you remains.

– Rm Shanmugam Chettiar

42. Dearest Mother

Because of You
Dearest Mother,
You’re the friend I most adore.
You taught me everything I know
and more.
You never abandoned me
when times got tough.
You held my trembling hands
when the waters were rough.
Mother, you’ve always been by my side.
Holding me up
When I wanted to hide.
Because of you,
I now walk with pride.

– Unknown

43. To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

– Linda Pastan, loc.gov

44. My Little Princess

My little daughter is prettier than a doll,
& her heart is the most beautiful among all.
Her lovely hair falls so perfectly down,
She looks no less than a princess even without a crown.

– Unknown

45. To My Mother

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother—my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

– Edgar Allan Poe

46. For My Daughter

When I die choose a star
and name it after me
that you may know
I have not abandoned
or forgotten you.
You were such a star to me,
following you through birth
and childhood, my hand
in your hand.

When I die
choose a star and name it
after me so that I may shine
down on you, until you join
me in darkness and silence
together.

– David Ignatow, loc.gov

47. Mother

When evenings cast pale shadows on the earth,
And silence, like a vast mysterious ghost,
Stifles the land and sea from hill to coast,
And buries all that tropic suns gave birth,
When by myself I pace the darkened shore,
And think of this unhappy lot of mine,
The pain and grief the fates to me assign,
I sigh for you, O mother I adore!
That I could seek your bosom as of old,
And, nestling there, bare secrets that oppress,
Accuse these that my love would dispossess,
Whose hearts to cold desires and base are sold!
O mother dear! When death relieves our sighs,
Shall we in heaven, meet, in Paradise?

– Luis G. Dato

48. Mother o’ Mine

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

– Rudyard Kipling

49. To My Mother

You too, my mother, read my rhymes
For love of unforgotten times,
And you may chance to hear once more
The little feet along the floor.

– Robert Louis Stevenson, poets.org

50. Mother’s Day

I see her doing something simple, paying bills,
or leafing through a magazine or book,
and wish that I could say, and she could hear,

that now I start to understand her love
for all of us, the fullness of it.

It burns there in the past, beyond my reach,
a modest lamp.

– David Young, poets.org

51. Mother and Baby

Tired at length of crying,
Laughing, cooing, sighing,
The baby lies so qui’t and still,
Scarce breathing in his sleep;
The mother watches, half-inclined
To hide her face and weep.

–Alexander Posey

52. Pen Disguised as a Hair Clip

Sat to jot down limerick in log book
Inept to find my pen carried miffed look
Probed my mum who lay on bed
She guffawed and slapped my head
The clutched one tumbled from hair as I shook

– V. Deepa

53. You’re da Bomb!

It’s mother’s day,
So thank you Mom
You ought to know
That you’re da’ bomb!

– Unknown

54. Dearest Mom

Since the day I was small
Till the day I became tall
Since I began understanding things
Till the day I got my own wings
Your love has never fallen short
You have been my only support
I want to hold you tight and hug you
I just want to say thank you.

– Sumiran Mishra and Saakshi Khattri

55. Being a Mother

Being a mother means that your heart
Is no longer yours; it wanders
Wherever your children do.

– George Bernard Shaw

Funny Mother-Daughter Poems

What better way to bring a smile to your beloved mother’s or daughter’s face than by sharing a funny poem with them? Here are a few gems that we have picked out for you.

56. Month of May

For all the diapers
that you changed,
For all the playdates
you arranged.

For all the trips
back and forth to school,
For cleaning all the spit up
and the drool.

Why is there only
one Mother’s Day?
You should have at least gotten
the ENTIRE month of May.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

— Anonymous

57. Please and Thanks

You taught me how to wash my face
And how to use the potty.
You made me eat up all my greens
And wiped my nose when snotty.

You taught me to say Please and Thanks,
Because politeness is the way,
So ‘Please’ can I borrow some money?
Thanks!
Just kidding. Happy Mother’s Day!

— Anonymous

58. For the Mom Who Has Everything

Mum, I know I owe you the world
And you deserve no less
But circumstances have unfurled;
I’m in a financial mess.
For your Mother’s Day party
I write for you this ditty.
My poetry skills are hearty
And cheap, but oh so witty!

— Anonymous

59. You Love My Art

Dear Mum…
I love that you loved all my “art”,
You told me it was beautiful,
You told me it was smart,

You loved my pottery and painting,
And my popsicle stick bridge,
But don’t you think it’s long enough ago now,
To take it off the fridge?

— Holly Giffers

60. Untitled

Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom!
Sorry you didn’t give birth to a poet who could rhyme!

— Anonymous

61. Sweetest Girl

I’ve said it on Facebook
I’ve said it on Twitter
I’ve shown it on Instagram
I’ve let it out in the atmosphere
I’ve said it again and again
And I will say it once more
My daughter is the sweetest girl
That any parent ever bore
I love you

— Anonymous

62. Mama

I was only five years old,
getting my hair pressed for the first time.
I heard my mother’s voice.
She was reading to me as she was pressing my hair.
Mama always called me “my-Esha”.
She was so kind a woman.
She still is.
All the people I knew as friends called me Esha.
My family did too.
Mama would wash my hair and then press it.
The pressing comb would get very hot.
The sides would singe with steam and heat from the pressing comb.
The back of my hair was my least favorite part to get pressed.
She knew it and we joked about it when she was threw fixing my hair.

– Ayesha Karim

63. Nobel Prize for Mothers

Mom you are a shining star
Though the world doesn’t know your name.
You have no fancy title
Like Baroness or Dame.

Mom you really are a star,
My mother, mentor and friend.
A Nobel Prize for motherhood,
Is what I’d recommend!

And if I won the lottery
I’d share my win with you
I’d take you Mom on a spending spree
Each day the whole year through!

You may not be famous,
As your face is known to few.
But Mom I think you are wonderful
And I’m so proud of you!

– Unknown

64. You Know Me

Mom you know the worst of me,
My weaknesses and follies,
I know you’ve seen me poop my pants
and cut the heads off dollies,

You know all my most embarrassing moments,
You know that I’m a nut,
So what can I do to repay your love..
…and make sure you keep your mouth shut!?

– Holly Giffers

65. Relax, Mom

As a mom you are number one
A parent who is second to none
On Mothers day, chores you should shun
For it is time for relaxation and fun
Even if at the end of the day nothing gets done
Just remember we will still love you a ton!

– Unknown

66. Roses are Red, Windex is Blue

Roses are red,
Windex is blue.
Thanks for keeping everything clean,
I really appreciate it.

– Unknown

67. My Mother Sent Me

a text message
from her coffin.
It said Glad
you’re not here.
She’s always doing
stuff like that. She says
it’s to help me
savor my remaining
days. But I know
it’s because I’m
the only one left
who hasn’t changed
his number.

– Michael Meyerhofer, poets.org

68. For the Mom Who Has Everything

Mum, I know I owe you the world
And you deserve no less
But circumstances have unfurled;
I’m in a financial mess.
For your Mother’s Day party
I write for you this ditty.
My poetry skills are hearty
And cheap, but oh so witty!

– Unknown

69. Mother Doesn’t Want a Dog

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they smell,
And never sit when you say sit,
Or even when you yell.
And when you come home late at night
And there is ice and snow,
You have to go back out because
The dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they shed,
And always let the strangers in
And bark at friends instead,
And do disgraceful things on rugs,
And track mud on the floor,
And flop upon your bed at night
And snore their doggy snore.

Mother doesn’t want a dog.
She’s making a mistake.
Because, more than a dog, I think
She will not want this snake.

– Judith Viorst

70. Wonder Woman

For as long as I can remember
My mother has been the strongest
woman I’ve ever known
A queen whose face is made of stone
Jigsaw puzzles in her teeth piecing the truth together
Her eyes are bridges
that connect the past with the future
She’s what I like to call a straight shooter
Will tell you exactly how she feels
doesn’t care how you think about it
wears her heart on her collarbone like a diamond necklace
Holds pyramids in her palms
So you can feel the royalty in her embrace
When she hands you a fist full of compassion.

My mama has a monument for a heart
Hieroglyphics in her tongue
decipher the elegance in her speech
She is a small, strong and proud woman
A woman who will put on high heels
just to walk to the grocery store
Will put on full makeup
And get her face beat to the Gods
Just to go to the gas station
Because she believes that Queens
should never leave the house looking like peasants

And she’s a superstitious woman
who thinks that aspirin and vinegar can heal anything
Im talking about arthritis gout, scoliosis, the flu…
You name it she thinks these things can kill it
And that’s why I love her so much
Because she makes ordinary things seem remarkable
Like how she can take 50 cent box of noodles
Add some milk, egg and cheddar
Make the most delicious pan of macaroni and cheese
You’ve ever tasted in your life
So good it made Jesus smack his own mama

Rumor has it that
That she once put BigFoot in a headlock
smacked Godzilla in the face and told him
his breath stank
Killed Moby Dick
Rolled him in flour threw him in a pan
and called it a fish fry

Y’all my mama is a gangsta!
I’m convinced she’s thrown a couple bodies in the river
Cause when I was younger
she would perform drive by butt whoopings
on me with a switch, extension cord, hanger
Anything if I ever got out of line
And when she was done
she would let me cry
but reminded that “she ain’t raise no punk”

Showed me that being a man had nothing to do
with the size of your genitalia
but everything to do with the enormity of your character

My mama has the confidence of Cleopatra
The grace of Harriet Tubman
and the style of Michelle Obama
She is a war machine
With missiles shooting from her tongue
That have stopped grown men in their tracks
and brought them down to her knees
Living proof that the most dangerous weapon
in America is the voice of a black woman
And it shows that black lives do in matter
because she had birthed them and raised them
And fought for them
More than she has fought for herself

Because my mama is also a survivor
and just this past year she fought
her biggest battles yet
with a giant named Breast cancer
and a titan called heart disease
And although one of those things took her breast
it could never be strong enough to steal her heart
Not vigilant enough to
cut off her air supply
Because she is air
A floating force too big to escape
yet too small to hold onto
A constant reminder that yes God sent a son to save us
But he created a woman to raise us

– Angelo Geter

71. Put Up With Me

I’m glad that you’re my mother,
kind and caring and strong.
Coz surely no-one else,
Could have put up with me this long!

– Holly Giffers

72. Things My Mother Taught Me

My Mother taught me LOGIC…”If you fall off that swing and break your neck, you can’t go to the store with me.”
My Mother taught me MEDICINE…”If you don’t stop crossing your eyes, they’re going to freeze that way.”
My Mother taught me TO THINK AHEAD…”If you don’t pass your spelling test, you’ll never get a good job!”
My Mother taught me ESP…”Put your sweater on; don’t you think that I know when you’re cold?”
My Mother taught me TO MEET A CHALLENGE…”What were you thinking? Answer me when I talk to you…Don’t talk back to me!”
My Mother taught me HUMOR…”When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.”
My Mother taught me how to BECOME AN ADULT…”If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll never grow up.
My mother taught me ABOUT SEX…”How do you think you got here?”
My mother taught me about GENETICS…”You are just like your father!”
My mother taught me about my ROOTS…”Do you think you were born in a barn?”
My mother taught me about the WISDOM of AGE…”When you get to be my age, you will understand.”
My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION…”Just wait until your father gets home.”
My mother taught me about RECEIVING…”You are going to get it when we get home.”
And, my all-time favorite – JUSTICE…”One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like YOU — then you’ll see what it’s like.”

– Unknown

Note: The poems in this collection are not original works of MomJunction but have been sourced from various authors. No claim of ownership is being made by us. Credit has been given wherever the details were available. If you are the original author of any poem and wish to have it credited or removed, please contact us. We value the creative rights of authors and will address your request promptly.

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Nothing can destroy or make a mother’s love disappear. Watch this video to find some eye-opening words about a mother’s love for her child.

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Vinita AgrawalPoet

Vinita Agrawal is an accomplished poet hailing from Indore, India. She has garnered significant recognition for her poetic endeavors, including winning the prestigious Proverse prize in Hong Kong in 2021 for her collection of poems titled "Twilight Language." Vinita has been the recipient of several awards, such as the Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize in 2018 and the Gayatri GaMarsh Memorial...more

Sravani RebbapragadaMSc (Biotechnology)

Sravani holds a post-graduate degree in Biotechnology from SRM University, Chennai. Being an avid reader, she keeps herself up to date with research. Her interest lies in teaching new things to children in creative ways. For MomJunction, she covers literature and information/ facts articles for kids. Sravani likes to unwind by teaching to her son, spending time with her family,...more

Akshay NairMA

Akshay is an associate editor and former journalist with more than four years of experience. A post graduate in Mass Communication and Journalism, he has strong professional and academic background in the field of content writing and editing. He is also a Certified Relationship Workshop Facilitator for Life Coaches. Akshay interned and worked with various newspapers and the Public Relations...more