The bonds of motherhood are strong. From our first glimpse, we gazed into her eyes and she in ours. Childhood passes quickly, and there are days we yearn for those moments when we were young, safely tucked under her arm—nurtured, loved, and mothered.
In Elizabeth Akers Allen’s poem, “Rock Me to Sleep,” the strength of this bond remains. Although she has reached adulthood, she wishes she was small again. Elizabeth acknowledges the importance of her mother— no matter how grown she may be:
Rock Me to Sleep
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for tonight!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,—
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,—
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;—
Rock me to sleep, mother – rock me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I tonight for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!
Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,—
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead tonight,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!
—by Elizabeth Akers Allen
Try it: Motherhood Poems
The many facets of motherhood are ripe for beautiful and complex poetry. Write a poem about a mother. Consider the moments that exemplify motherhood, the things that make a mother a mom. You can also write a poem from a mother’s perspective— watching her children grow. Share it with us in the comment section below. We’ll bring the hankies. 🙂
Click to get FREE 5-Prompt Mini-Series
Featured Poem
From last week’s poetry prompt, Rick shared a reflective poem on fatherhood, from a son’s perspective:
Diamond
The diamond disk cuts,
leaves a fine dust veed
along the strike-line
tapped to break the glass.
On the floor,
in your workshop
I played,
brushing together what fell
as your boots moved,
speckled with solder stars.
Light reflected off
the bright grains, where
it fell, in a memory of sand.
It was harmless in my hand,
edge dissolved by edge,
a child’s slightest sigh sent it
spiraling like a galaxy.
Can a child be cut to fit
a certain light?
What formed my facets
is fragmented and fragile.
Such weightless days rescue years,
like dust and starlight.
—by Rick Maxson
Photo by Basheer Tome. Creative Commons via Flickr.
Browse more writing prompts
Browse poetry teaching resources
How to Write a Poem uses images like the buzz, the switch, the wave—from the Billy Collins poem “Introduction to Poetry”—to guide writers into new ways of writing poems. Excellent teaching tool. Anthology and prompts included.
“How to Write a Poem is a classroom must-have.”
—Callie Feyen, English Teacher, Maryland
- Poetry Prompt: Misunderstood Lion - March 19, 2018
- Animate: Lions & Lambs Poetry Prompt - March 12, 2018
- Poetry Prompt: Behind the Velvet Rope - February 26, 2018
Rick Maxson says
Window
Outside, the Maple seeds turn as they fall,
turn in complex spirals from their branches.
Sleep, baby, as I rock, as the Maple sways
in the gusts of air, shaking loose its twirling birds.
I have been you, wrapped warm near a forgotten pane,
seasons rushing, now it seems, through dresses, shoes,
cap and veil, the leaves rolling behind my eyes,
over Fall lawns, then buried under flawless snows.
What shapes and sound conspire to bring you dreams,
before you discover the scattering force of the world.
There will be a morning when you rise and find a road away
from me, my love left pressed like Maple leaves in a book.
Years will pass in pages I write to keep you
in my heart; the years will turn in orbits near and far.
For now, by this window, I hold you, your touch
like the small fingers of the rain—beyond us,
the leaves, and the indifferent arms of the wind.
Prasanta says
This is lovely and nostalgic. A few of my favorite lines are:
” …the leaves rolling behind my eyes”
“…the years will turn in orbits near and far”
“…the indifferent arms of the wind.”
Rick Maxson says
Thanks, Prasanta.
Bethany R. says
“There will be a morning when you rise and find a road away
from me, my love left pressed like Maple leaves in a book.”
Beautifully expressed. Makes me think of my mom, her mom, and my kids all at once.
Rick Maxson says
Thanks, Bethany.
Heather Eure says
I have tears ready to spill reading your gorgeous poem, Rick. It doesn’t happen often, but there it is. 🙂
Maureen says
My favorite line in your poem, Rick: ‘There will be a morning when you rise and find a road away / from me. . . .’ If we live long, we expect the loss of our parent, whether from death or our reaching adulthood. In my own mother’s case, as in the poem ‘A Mother’s Day’ in ‘Neruda’s Memoirs’, it was the unexpected that came to define her: loss of two infant children, the sudden death of my father, the loss of a significant other after my father, and the death of my 59-year-old brother from cancer. And what was left: “All the sisters who are mothers / spelling that room” where we said goodbye.
Rick Maxson says
Thank you , Maureen, for this response, what memories a line of poetry can surface.
From your poem , A Mother’s Day, another line that especially grabbed me was “We imprint what the mind can reduce to hold.” So true how we deal with tragedy and loss.
Heather Eure says
Y’all are leaving me in a puddle.
Prasanta says
The Longing Arms
Emptiness
filled now and spilling
when arms hold
and hush the
long anticipated one-
sweet love requited.
Did I know
how empty they were-
my arms, heart-
before you?
You laughed at the emptiness
and swallowed it whole.
…of the wind
she is, a soft kiss
mystery
come alive
the eyes and face of those with
thin, motherless arms.
Bethany R. says
Prasanta, thanks for sharing your poem with us. I absolutely love:
“You laughed at the emptiness
and swallowed it whole.”
Prasanta says
Thanks, Bethany.
Rick Maxson says
A beautiful poem, Prasata. The way you phrase the final stanza works so perfectly for the feeling this poem imparts.
Prasanta says
Thank you, Rick.
Prasanta says
Actually, that last stanza was about me recalling my own experience of becoming a mother, but also thinking about those many little lives out there who have no one to hold them.
Heather Eure says
Oh my heart, Prasanta. Beautiful.
Prasanta says
Thank you, Heather. This poem is a “shadorma”, a form which I first learned from Maureen Doallas a few years ago (perhaps it was right here on Tweetspeak). I enjoyed the form and tried writing a few pieces with it.
Bethany R. says
I’ll take one of those hankies, Heather. Between “Rock Me to Sleep” and Rick Maxson’s, “Diamond,” I’ve gotten to put my new waterproof mascara to the test (amazingly, it has held up).
Heather Eure says
With you, Bethany. You’ll have to let me know what brand mascara. Mine didn’t cut it. 😉