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1 - 18 of 18. Son Poems, beautiful poems from Mother to Son and Father to Son. The relationship of a son towards both his parents is very complex. Having a son can be one of the greatest joys they will ever experience but also one of the greatest challenges.
- To My Son
I am blessed with 2 wonderful sons, they're both grown up...
- Poems About Prison
Poems for When a Family Member is in Jail. Prison is the...
- What I Wish For You My Son
A mother tells her son of her hopes and dreams for him. What...
- A Man Of Your Own
Father Poems; Back to Top. Browse by Category. Top 100...
- To My Son
Feb 21, 2014 · Poems about Sons - Historically, the son was the heir of the family--and not only of wealth. He was the continuation of a name, a "line," responsible for passing on his father’s stories, his reputation, the family's traditions, and so on.
Mar 6, 2019 · Below are five of the finest poems about sons – ranging from the humorous to the moving, the personal to the universal. Many famous poets have also been mothers or fathers to sons, and sometimes they have written about their children in poems that have become classics in English literature.
In this collection of poems, we explore the heartfelt sentiments of parents who celebrate the love they have for their sons. These poems beautifully capture the essence of this special relationship, showcasing the incredible depth of a parent's love.
Fathers and Sons. By Peter Cooley. JSTOR and the Poetry Foundation are collaborating to digitize, preserve, and extend access to Poetry. Source: Poetry (July 1987) Browse all issues back to 1912.
The History of Mothers of Sons. By Lisa Furmanski. All sons sleep next to mothers, then alone, then with others. Eventually, all our sons bare molars, incisors. Meanwhile, mothers are wingless things in a room of stairs. A gymnasium of bars and ropes, small arms hauling self over self. Mothers hum nonsense, driving here.
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Black Mothers and Sons. I am waiting to be discovered (having· come to rest on the floor, head against the stove, upended chair nearby, sliver of an orange peel against my cheek), so that I may be revived, and rise, and clean up the awful mess I have made (Mother will not be pleased), and go outside, into that beautiful world, a new and more ...