Poems to encourage and bring a smile to the face of a parent. Parenting is one of the most rewarding things you can ever do in life, but it is also a role that can bring heartache and challenges. Read these poems on thoughts of parenting.
The good old-fashioned mothers and the good old-fashioned dads
With their good old-fashioned lassies and their good old-fashioned lads,
Still walk the lanes of loving in their simple, tender ways
As they used to do back yonder in the good old-fashioned days.
They dwell in every city and they live in every town,
Contentedly and happy and not hungry for renown;
On every street you'll find 'em in their simple garments clad,
The good old-fashioned mother and the good old-fashioned dad.
There are some who sigh for riches, there are some who yearn for fame.
And a few misguided people who no longer blush at shame;
But the world is full of mothers and the world is full of dads
Who are making sacrifices for their little girls and lads.
They are growing old together, arm in arm they walk along,
And their hearts with love are beating and their voices sweet with song;
They still share their disappointments and they share their pleasures, too.
And whatever be their fortune, to each other they are true.
They are watching at the bedside of a baby pale and white.
And they kneel and pray together for the care of God at night;
They are romping with their children in the fields of clover sweet,
And devotedly they guard them from the perils of the street.
They are here in countless numbers, just as they have always been,
And their glory is untainted by the selfish and the mean.
And I'd hate to still be living, it would dismal be and sad.
If we'd no old-fashioned mother and we'd no old- fashioned dad.
Our children are our monuments,
The little ones we leave behind,
If they are good and brave and kind,
And labor here with true intents,
Our lives and work perpetuate
Far more than marble tablets great.
Far rather would I pass away
And leave a sturdy son of mine.
Whom I had taught to love the fine,
The just and honest; in his day
To serve the world with courage bold.
Than have my life on granite told.
I'd rather feel when death is near
That in my children I shall live;
No monument of stone would give
Me greater glory, year by year,
Than sons and daughters treading on
In truth and honor when I'm gone.
Who leaves a sturdy son on earth,
A noble daughter, sweet and pure.
Has monuments that long endure.
He needs no shaft to prove his worth;
The luster of his children's deeds
Are all the monuments he needs.
A table cloth that's slightly soiled
Where greasy little hands have toiled;
The napkins kept in silver rings,
And only ordinary things
From which to eat, a simple fare.
And just the wife and kiddies there.
And while I serve, the clatter glad
Of little girl and little lad
Who have so very much to say
About the happenings of the day.
Four big round eyes that dance with glee,
Forever flashing joys at me.
Two little tongues that race and run
To tell of troubles and of fun;
The mother with a patient smile
Who knows that she must wait awhile
Before she'll get a chance to say
What she's discovered through the day.
She steps aside for girl and lad
Who have so much to tell their dad.
Our manners may not be the best;
Perhaps our elbows often rest
Upon the table, and at times
That very worst of dinner crimes,
That very shameful act and rude
Of speaking ere you've downed your food.
Too frequently, I fear, is done,
So fast the little voices run.
Yet why should table manners stay
Those tongues that have so much to say?
At many a table I have been
Where wealth and luxury were seen,
And I have dined in halls of pride
Where all the guests were dignified;
But when it comes to pleasure rare
The perfect dinner table's where
No stranger's face is ever known:
The dinner hour we spend alone.
When little girl and little lad
Run riot telling things to dad.
Being a parent will make you glad
But there will be times you feel sad
Focus and cherish the good times
Keep looking forward as you climb
Always remember no one is perfect
Always give your child respect.
Listen and understand what they say
As they get older it is not all play.
Encourage and support them each day
And love them no matter what, in every way.
The neighbor lad had teased, and so had he,
Till Mother sighed: "Well, if it has to be!"
And Father said " Sure! Let him run along;
It's so near by there's nothing can go wrong."
So Mother rolled his gown into a lump
Smaller than one her throat held; put his comb
In with it; and he left, with joy a-jump -
First time he stayed all night away from home!
He choked a little when he said good-night
To stranger-parents; and he saw a light
Shining in his own house, two worlds away
In the next block; then dreamed till dawning day
That he was homeless. At their breakfast-time
He could not eat, but made his homesick flight
Without adieux - to him no social crime -
When first he stayed away from home all night.
And mother met him with her arms outspread,
And in her loving bosom hid his head
A long, long time while neither of them stirred
Nor anybody said a single word.
In her a pang old as maternity
Forewarned her of long partings that must come;
For him had ended all eternity -
First time he'd stayed all night away from home!
Being a parent is not an easy thing
You want the best for your child
You never realized how much love you are feeling
Until you see that very first smile.
You want to protect your children from harm
You want to see them grow and be happy
You never want them feeling alarm
You want to be parents who are savvy.
But as your child grows
You can guide and encourage
But life will always bring blows
You don't want your child to feel discouraged.
You celebrate the joys
You give them all you can
You sit and play with them and their toys
They are loved deeply by you and your clan.
Parenting is the most important job you will ever have
Just do your best and don't be hard
It will bring you much happiness and feelings of glad
The day will come when you have to let go - you can't guard.
Children are what the mothers are.
No fondest father's fondest care
Can fashion so the infant heart
As those creative beams that dart,
With all their hope and fear, upon
The cradle of a sleeping son.
His startled eyes with wonder see
A father near him on his knee,
Who wishes all the while to trace
The mother in his future face;
But it is to her alone uprise
His waking arms; to her those eyes
Open with joy and not surprise.