Young Writers Society

helloo
This is a beautiful write and I absolutely love it! There's a great rhyme in this and I love the repetition of:

Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do.

Because, after all, it's what children do
When they're finally ready to say
"I love you."

And then suddenly they're
Five years old.
And you find yourself
Unable to really let go.
But you have to, you know.
So you let go of their hand
And allow them to lead
Themselves into a new land.
But you still watch,
Because they may be older -
Bigger, stronger, smarter, perhaps -
But the world is far colder
Than you remember it.
It's still early mornings, long nights,
Protecting the one you love;
They are not quite ready to fight.
And so you fight for them.
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do.

Icy here to review!

xoCairo wrote:

Spoiler! :

In all honesty, I was trying to come up with something for my mother for mother's day. The poem kind of has a mind of its own. I'm not entirely sure if it's something I'd like to give to her... :/ Especially after getting a rant about how Mother's Day is a way for card companies to get money (which is partly true). All critiques and thoughts would be nice...

Also, wasn't sure which category it belonged in so it's here.

#4080BF ">I must admit I spend a long time trawling through the poetry categories, wondering whether the poem in question fits in dramatic, narrative or any of the other forms. More often than not however, I end up placing it in 'other'. But ah well, on to nitpicks!

In the very beginning#008000 ">comma
It starts with innocence.
Unable to understand -
Nothing makes sense.
At that point in time,
Really, no one cares, #8000BF ">I think this reads better as 'nobody' but of course that's your call.
Except for the one person
Who will always be there.
Early mornings, long nights,
All for someone who won't remember,
Someone unable to fight,
And so you fight for them.
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do. #BF4080 ">I like the imagery in this poem, this really captures the love that a mother has for her children.

And then suddenly they're
Five years old. #8040BF ">I don't think you have to let go at five years old, this seems a little young? Maybe reconsider this age?
And you find yourself #008000 ">comma
Unable to really let go.
But you have to, you know.
So you let go of their hand
And allow them to lead #008000 ">comma
Themselves into a new land.
But you still watch,
Because they may be older -
Bigger, stronger, smarter, perhaps -
But the world is far colder
Than you remember it. #FF0000 ">This is really nice too, I like the way you have managed to grasp the way the world is changing from each generation to the next.
It's still early mornings, long nights,
Protecting the one you love;
They are not quite ready to fight.
And so you fight for them.
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do. #008000 ">Good use of repetition.

It's a little later on and
They're drifting farther away,
You find yourself afraid
Of the next thing they'll say.
But you don't dwell, because,
Should they ever get stuck,
Confused by their homework,
You tell them they're in luck -
Because yes, you did this
And you remember it well. #4000BF ">This is nice although I often find my parents concluding that they must be doing it wrong because now there is a different method to do a particular sum, or a different piece of terminology for a literate term, perhaps you could work this in somehow?
You'll help them with it,
Correct what they misspell.
And yes, it's still early mornings, long nights,
Helping in every way you can;
They are still not ready to fight.
And so you fight for them,
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do.

With time, they gain friends
And you learn each by name
(But really, as fast as they come and go,
They're all just the same)#008000 ">full stop.
And even though you're happy,
You know what comes next;
With every relationship,
Every time people connect -
There's problems. You know it,
They're coming soon,
And you want to protect them,
They're surely not immune.
So you ready an arsenal
Of comforting things,
Ready to heal the wounds,
Get rid of the stings.
And when it does happen -
Because yes, you knew it would -
You're ready to fight
As you knew you could.
As always, it's early mornings, long nights
Ridding closets of monsters.
They are close, but not ready, to fight
For themselves; they are still innocent.
And so you fight for them,
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do. #404080 ">I have no other nitpicks for this stanza! I love the sense of a mother's job that you've created and hope it continues into the next verse.

Time flies by faster,
And suddenly they're teens.
You're worried, afraid, because
You know what this means:
They won't talk to you,
They won't even care.
You try to talk to them,
And all they'll do is glare. #400080 ">These four lines seem to fit in a strange way. Try reading them out loud over and over because I can't quite grasp what the niggling problem is with them.
And yes, for some, this may be true
But you haven't lost hope,
Even so, you're pretty sure,
If they leave you, you can cope.
Sometimes they do, and you're
Left alone in the dust,
But other times you're taken
Along for the ride (because you must
Simply go, it's hard to refuse.
Especially after everything you've been through.)
And it's times like that that make you
Realize: they won't forget you.
Because they remember the early mornings, long nights,
You spent at their sides,
And no, they don't want to fight.
And so you fight for them.
Because, after all, it's what
Mothers do. #8040BF ">Onto the last stanza now I don't want it to end!

And maybe, through the years,
They couldn't say it quite right.
But they remember, and appreciate
Every single day and night
You spent awake on their behalf.
And when it comes to you, they'll fight -
Maybe sometimes with you, yes -
But they'll fight for your honour, your right
To be recognized for all you've done.
No matter who they are -
Daughter or son -
They've gone through the ages,
Letting you fight.
They've conquered the stages,
As you have the day and the night.
And no, they're not ready -
In your eyes, they'll never be -
But after a while, they'll
Open their eyes and finally see:
The early mornings, the long nights,
Your defences for them - your fights.
And no, they don't want to fight.
But they do it anyway.
Because, after all, it's what children do
When they're finally ready to say
"I love you."