Don’t Call Me Your Mother

Dont Call Me Your Mother long poem

Photo by Robb North

She used to tell me
Right from wrong,
Don’t call me your mother

I never listened to her;
I made her go crazy
Don’t call me you mother

Until the day she was disappointed.
She said to me,
Don’t call me your mother
Don’t call me your mother

It was as if I had ripped her heart apart;
Into a thousand little pieces.
That would never mend,
Don’t call me your mother

From that day,
I was ashamed
I made a promise to stop doing what I had been doing.
To stop ripping her heart furthermore,
And to start trying to saw it together
Don’t call me your mother

I’m sorry I’m sorry
Don’t call me your mother
Don’t cry for me
Don’t say my name
Don’t call me your mother

It made me realize that
I WAS DRIFTING APART FROM HER
Don’t call me your mother

The truth hit me right back on my face
That waken me up to acknowledge that
it wasn’t a dream anymore it was real
I was losing her

It wounded me,
It ate me up,
It haunted me all the way
The sad thing was I didn’t know
What to do to stop us from falling apart
EVERY TIME I CLOSED MY EYES
ALL I REMEMBERED WAS HER TONELESS VOICE SAYING…
DON’T CALL ME YOUR MOTHER

Remembering all the moments we had
The ten years we had spent together
The time she struggled raising up six children
On her own while father worked in London

BUT LIFE HAD CHANGED

The awkward moments paralyzed
There was a veil of silence in the house
Tears often fall down my cheeks, lost embrace
Avoidance by a curtain drawn
Forever closed
ONCE AN OPEN DOOR
DON’T CALL ME YOUR MOTHER

I remember the song
You always hurt the one you love, the one you should not hurt at all;
You always take the sweetest rose, and crush it till the petals fall;
You always break the kindest heart, with a hasty word you can’t recall;
So if I broke your heart last night, it’s because I love you most of all
When I think of my situation

I HATE THE FACT THAT
WE ARE DRIFTING APART
I DON’T WANT TO HURT ANYMORE
BUT…. THE BRITTLE VOICE
ONCE AGAIN SAYS DON’T CALL ME YOUR MOTHER

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "Don’t Call Me Your Mother"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
shivaji pandhare
Member

really heart twitching all pain wiithout mother living life

wpDiscuz

I Know Me

I Know Me short poem

It was a freak accident of epithelium under anaesthesia. You place a window on to a hollow brain. The money makes the monkey out of you. A green light blocks the fish, your memory, to swim in black thoughts. The

Yukon Call Me Panic

Yukon Call Me Panic ode

Vane glorious and absolutistic, though I defiantly, cavalierly, and blithely attest Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy mine acidic breast houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic, barbaric, and bubonic cannibalistic demons within thy safely guarded Pandora chest atomic cesium clock timed to

The Lost Me

The Lost Me short poem

I was so much into you That I lost my friends, My family and most importantly Myself. My dear you, You hurt me so much That I lost you, And I lost myself too. I was depressed, tensed here You

Being A Mother

Being A Mother long poem

Being a mother… That path that is sometimes taken, that path that sometimes reaches you, and that you, even as a companion, always walks. That road full of efforts of pains and struggles but pregnant with joys, with teachings. That

The Orchestra And Me

The Orchestra And Me prose poem

I had a dream last night. It was very concise but interesting. Rather revelatory, but not prophetic in the usual way. There was a class with a facilitator encouraging input based on a lesson plan provided to the class. I,