The night was soft, the stars were bright,
A mother held her child so tight.
Her weary tears became delight,
As dawn gave birth to morning light.
"My son," she said with gentle grace,
While joy and wonder filled her face.
She kissed his cheeks, his tiny hand,
Her precious gift, heaven had planned.
They played in fields of golden sun,
Their laughter danced, their hearts were one.
They sang sweet songs at break of day,
And chased the evening light away.
When night arrived with silver sleep,
She held him close and rocked him deep.
Through every fever, every cry,
She stayed beside him by and by.
The years rolled on like rivers wide,
The little boy grew tall with pride.
His mother gave and gave once more,
Yet discipline she oft ignored.
Each wish he spoke became command,
She placed the world within his hand.
What once was love began to spoil,
Like fertile ground that bore bad soil.
He learned to take but not to give,
Forgot the art of how to live.
His temper burned like summer flame,
And slowly pride became his name.
One fateful day dark anger rose,
As bitter winds disturb the rose.
Harsh words were thrown from son to mother,
Words that should never meet another.
She called his name with trembling breath,
Unknowing she was near to death.
In blinding rage, without clear sight,
His hand reached out in foolish spite.
A flash of steel, a dreadful cry,
The heavens seemed to mourn and sigh.
The knife he held in anger's storm
Had pierced the one who kept him warm.
She fell upon the silent floor,
The voice that sang would sing no more.
Her fading eyes still sought her son,
Though all the evil had been done.
He dropped the blade with shaking hand,
Like one who could not understand.
For there before his grieving eyes
Lay love no wealth could ever buy.
The hands that fed him every day,
The heart that chased his fears away,
Now cold beneath the evening sun,
Destroyed by her own cherished son.
He wept, but tears could not restore
The life that crossed death's solemn shore.
For some regrets no time can mend,
And some dark roads have bitter ends.
Remember this where'er you roam:
Kindness must first be taught at home.
A child may bear his mother's name,
Yet choices carve his grief or fame.
For love without the guiding rod
May drift away from paths of God.
And hearts once pure may come undone,
As happened to his mother's son.
-
Author:
Tatyough Terungwa Thomas (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 14th, 2026 04:01
- Comment from author about the poem: The poem *His Mother's Son* is a tragic cautionary tale about love, parenting, and consequences. It is not based on a specific historical event, but on a universal truth: love without guidance can sometimes become harmful. The story unfolds in stages: **1. Joyful Beginnings** The mother welcomes her son with immense happiness. She nurtures him with affection, care, and sacrifice. They play together, sing together, and sleep peacefully. This part celebrates the deep bond between mother and child. **2. Unbalanced Love** As the boy grows, the mother's love becomes indulgence. She grants his every wish and fails to correct his wrongs. The poem suggests that affection without discipline can unintentionally breed entitlement. **3. Corruption of Character** The child matures physically but not morally. He becomes prideful, impatient, and quick to anger. The poem emphasizes that character is formed not only by love but also by boundaries and accountability. **4. The Tragic Climax** During an argument, anger overwhelms reason. In a moment of rage, the son accidentally stabs his mother. The act is not premeditated murder but a catastrophic consequence of uncontrolled emotion. **5. Regret and Moral Reckoning** Only after the deed does the son fully realize what he has lost. The mother who gave him life is gone, and no amount of remorse can undo the tragedy. The ending underscores a painful truth: some actions have irreversible consequences. The central message of the poem is that love and discipline must coexist. A child may be born innocent and deeply loved, but without moral guidance, anger and pride can lead to ruin. The title, *His Mother's Son*, is deliberately ironic. Though he is biologically her son, his final act betrays the values she hoped to instill in him. At a deeper level, the poem explores how a person can remain someone's child by birth yet fail to remain their child in character.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
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Comments1
This poem draws the distinction between that giving that meets desire and that giving that teaches. Being a parent I have seen the difference. Sometimes the ultimate giving is giving up the need to be loved and liked for that of the good of the child. Far better to be disliked and even hated in creating a good child than to be loved by a bad one. Well done in good rhyme and very good meter and flow. A fave
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