Modern Poetry of Missing Mother

Modern poems about missing my mother 1 Dye my thoughts into red sorghum in my hometown.

Tears turned into rain-soaked clothes.

Mom, when will my son see your happy smile again?

Look at the ridge from a distance

The doors and windows in my hometown have lost their former brightness.

The swaying enough paper is full of sadness.

Mom, when will my son see your firewood in the street again?

Concentrate deep feelings on the expectation of the Spring Festival.

The hardships of life are all melancholy faces.

The unyielding character has always been publicity and intention.

Mom, my son really wants to eat your delicious rice again.

But I am sad to see Artemisia annua in my hometown.

I can't hear my mother's nagging anymore.

Never see mom's smile again.

Mom, my son is standing in the yard of his hometown with tears in his eyes.

I really want to lie on the hot kang and have a dream.

When you go to Qiu Lai in spring, time will pass by day and night.

The wrinkles of unfinished business are full of feelings and sadness.

Mom, many of my son's words turned into a pot of wine.

Sprinkle it on your tombstone, let your mother rest in peace and let the younger generation rise!

Missing Mom Modern Poetry 2 You love you.

spread

In the wind

Float to my place

You smile.

Crying

perspicacious

The wall of disappearance

Your bent back

Can't stand up straight.

It stings

The mark on my heart

You have silver hair.

Not young

That kind of sadness

Crawl all over my heart

Your wrinkled face

It's vicissitudes

feel

I have been unfilial for half my life.

The moment you get up

So slow

hands up!

I will lend you my arm.

You are no longer sad.

Just sigh

Wake me up.

The power of the mind

Your shriveled breasts

Hang down

tell

No milk is mother.

The moment I hugged you

You cried.

I stared.

The dark dawn outside the window

You made breakfast.

It tastes bad

Children swallowing

Lack of great love

The days are getting longer.

No longer than you bend over.

The outflow of sweat

My melancholy

No matter how dark the night is.

Black but your face.

Those years.

The wound left in your heart

My pen tip quivered slightly.

Eyes flashing.

Fallen

It turned out to be glittering and translucent light.

I miss

You're looking forward to

Written in this poem

Leave it somewhere else.