Top 18 Beautiful Poems About Martyrs' Mothers

WHERE ARE YOU NOW, MY CHILD?
Author: Pham Hong Soi

The freckles cover the altar's place,
Mother gazes at your photo, asking where you are.
Your grave lies cold and lonely,
Your soul lost, the pain beyond measure.
At night, your mother's eyes well up with tears,
Her pillow soaked, with no end in sight.
O sacred voice, speak to me, my child,
Guide your comrades to bring you home.
To the martyrs' cemetery of our homeland,
Where flowers bloom, every household waiting.
My child, can you hear me?
The wind-blown grave still waits for you, my son.
25.7.2019

MOTHER WAITS FOR YOUR RETURN

Poet: Vu Thi Thuy Hong

(Written for the mother of fallen soldier Nguyen Thi Thu)

Decades have passed...
Every meal, mother still sets it all out,
Nine bowls, chopsticks gathered beside her.
Children, come home, eat with your mother,
Don't leave her alone in the quiet,
Her longing grows deeper with each passing day.
The reunions now are only in the night.
One by one, the children return to visit her,
With backpacks, guns on their shoulders as before,
Smiling brightly as always.
Decades have passed,
My children are still youthful beneath the sky.
They grew up in the time of war,
For the country, they gave their youth,
For peace, for independence, and freedom.
Now our homeland is warm and prosperous,
The meals are plentiful, and mother loves her children even more.
The food is ready, the sunset is fading,
Mother waits for you to come home and eat with her...

A MOTHER'S HEART!

Poet: Nguyen Thi Khanh Ha

For years, he has rested in the earth,
The forest hums a lullaby, leaves fall with the seasons.
For years, Mother’s tears have run dry,
Her shadow has grown thin, her hair turned white with time.

She counts the hardships, the struggles,
Like a yellow leaf falling back to its roots.
Mother departed with boundless sorrow,
Worrying about her child alone in the sparse woods.

We searched for him, walking through sun and rain,
The roads of Truong Son covered in grass and leaves.
Amidst the vastness, the green forest, and rocky mountains,
There lies a path that lives on in our hearts.

His spirit, sacred and guiding, led us to find him,
Our eyes filled with tears, breaking the hearts of comrades.
We lit incense to ease our hearts,
In the smoke, we saw Mother smiling!

MOTHER SEES HER SON OFF

Poet: Nghi Lam

Mother bids him farewell, sending him off to enlist,
When his life was still under twenty years old.
She quietly holds back the tears, fearing for him,
Hoping for victory and his safe return.

At Rach Rang, U Minh, traveling by boat,
The path winds through many rivers and streams.
The enemy is rampant, searching fiercely,
But he and his comrades bravely resist.

Each night, Mother prays for her eldest son,
Fighting enemies on distant battlefields.
Though her heart is heavy with sorrow at times,
She prays for his well-being and safety.

One night, in a dream, Mother saw,
In a sparse forest, her son had fallen.
The enemy, merciless, had torn his body apart,
But they were crushed, their forces scattered.

When he left, it was a cool autumn day,
The flower blossoms, the soft winds lulling him to sleep.
Farewell to him, who gave his life for the sacred nation.
It was painful, but Mother felt fulfilled.

Comrades and family came to see him off,
HE EMBARKS ON HIS JOURNEY... MOTHER'S EYES FILLED WITH TEARS!

FAMILY STORIES
Poet: Tran Duy Hanh

In the countryside, on evenings by the dike,
The golden rice fields exude a fragrant scent,
The river is filled with cool breezes,
Children running with kites in the air.

Mother, busy all day long,
The farmer working in the fields,
From the misty dawn to the fading twilight,
Endlessly toiling to care for her children.

Mother loves her children deeply,
Contributing to the unity of the country,
Joining in the fight against invaders,
She encouraged her children to march forward.

All her love was poured into her work,
Mother never regretted her life,
Her tears flowed silently in her heart.

Years passed, and Mother waited,
Hoping for peace, the unity of the nation,
Yearning for her children to return home soon.

The evening breeze blows by the dike,
Her son is now a martyr,
But all she wishes for now
Is for the nation to remain peaceful.
(23/7/2019)

THE STORY OF THE SECOND MOTHER

The small house, quiet and still,
For many years, Mother has waited patiently,
Her gaze lost in the void,
Sitting beside the photo of her child, she sighs each night.

How could Mother ever forget,
Those long years of war in our land?
She sent soldiers off to battle,
And always hoped for their safe return...

Suddenly, the pain strikes again,
Unstoppable tears, buried deep within,
All the agony, the anger,
Leaving deep wrinkles on Mother's forehead.

Nine children once waited in hope,
Nine bowls of rice Mother prepared with love,
Today, flags wave in the breeze,
Yet why has my child never come back?

So many burdens carried without hesitation,
Where have my children gone to rest?
The winds and time have grayed her hair,
Yet still, a mother waits through the nights, hoping.

THE LAMP DROP
Poem by Phan Huy Hung

A drop of oil hangs on the wick
Flickering beside a trembling shadow,
The gentle sway of Mother's shoulder
As tears fall, soaking the dark night...

Alas!
The lamp is about to fade,
A fleeting light that once shone bright,
Fighting to glow in the sleepless night,
Forever longing for my child from afar!

Will you come back to me, my child?
Just for a fleeting moment,
To see you strong, healthy, and grown,
And Mother can smile in peace, fully fulfilled!

Mother, wait for me,
I am crossing the vast ocean,
The waves tossing me up and down,
I can hear you calling: 'My child!'

A life hidden in poverty, enduring hardship,
To make my child shine - my Mother,
Why is it now, in these final moments,
That the lamp has soared into the sky?

All that remains is the sound of
'My child!'
Echoing through my life, guiding my steps,
The vast sea and sky in front and behind,
The drop of oil... has become the sun!

THE PAIN OF WAR
Poem by Tony Bui

Autumn has come, the sky sheds rain,
Mother's heart pours out in silent pain.
She remembers Father, his hair tinged with gray,
Her heart aches, carrying all the sorrow and loss.

Thinking of Father, Mother sits in quiet sorrow,
The nights filled with memories that run deep,
Father's shadow rests on the grave, so cold,
For years, Mother has concealed her grief.

Still, the wife weeps through each long night,
In the cemetery, endless tears fall.
Unfinished happiness, lips parched and dry,
Crossing Truong Son, she calls for him to return.

Lonely nights, the empty bed so cold,
She waits, hoping her love will come home.
That final farewell, a sweet kiss shared,
Hand tightly held, not wanting to part.

Every night, Mother waits, calling out his name,
The pain so deep, it haunts her dreams.
She holds back the tears, her heart in control,
Then prays for him, counting the endless days.

Rejoicing in the nation's unity, bright as the morning,
Mother leans by the door, sighing into the night.
Her lullaby sways softly with the hammock,
Her heart still longs, waiting for him to come home.

Summer fades quietly under the midday sun,
The cemetery is still, shrouded in smoke.
Father's photograph is draped in mourning cloth,
The graves of Father and son now covered in flags and flowers.

On the twenty-seventh, gratitude fills the land,
Incense rises, flowers honor the martyrs.
Father's name etched on the golden plaque,
His honor and truth echo far and wide.

Our Vietnam, forever beautiful and proud,
Endlessly proud of the women who shaped our future.

Warsaw
23/07/2019

BACK TO MOTHER
By Trinh Thanh Hang

Comrades, one cold afternoon, so grim,
Suddenly, we were torn apart, a moment so bitter.
The cigarette burned out halfway up the hill,
The purple Sim flowers faded in the harsh scent.

Comrades, the gunfire that once echoed is now silent,
The battlefield is now a deserted, peaceful place.
Whose voice tore through the sky that afternoon,
Swallowing pain, searching for the footprints of that day?

Comrades, where are you lying now, rise up,
Stand strong, your fellow soldiers are here to visit.
The day you left, your eyes like full moons,
Your hair carrying the fragrance of the blooming grapefruit.

Comrades, though separated by life and death,
In the deep forest, in this desolate place,
If you listen carefully, even the hammock sways,
Still carrying the smile that once bloomed with joy.

Comrades, come back to Mother now,
Her back bent, her eyes dimmed with age,
Only bones remain beneath this vast sky,
Mother has waited with open arms for you to return.

Comrades, let us raise our hats in tribute,
Welcome you home with honor, though our hearts are heavy.
Mother’s fragile figure trembles with grief,
Her child is finally coming back... to Mother?!

THE BENT BACK
By Pham Tan Dan

Mother bears the weight of the mist on her shoulders,
Her cheeks wrinkled, her tears hidden deep.
Where are you now, my child?
Her weary eyes carry the sorrow, trying to hold it all.

The sky and clouds float gently on the horizon,
High-rise buildings stand, no clouds swirling above.
Looking up, I sense a fading expression on Mother’s face,
Palaces and villas greet with their towering arms.

My child is far beyond the hills,
The name has yet to be called, how can she know?
On this memorial day, we follow Mother’s shadow,
In the sunlight, her bent back marks the endless wait.

THE OTHER MOTHER

By Nguyen Ruyen

Nine times she gave birth to a child,
Nine times she sent them off to save the nation.
Nine times she heard of her child’s fall,
And nine afternoons she hid her tears.

Heroic titles she earned, treasured and proud,
But more precious by far, a million times over,
If only each of her children could live
Beside her, sharing every spring of life.

Now, the Other Mother has passed,
The statue stands, radiating grace.
The figure of Mother Au Co embodies Vietnam’s spirit,
Her heroism and kindness shining forever like a thousand blossoms.

Ninh Binh, 2018
NGUYEN RUYEN.

THE FALLEN SOLDIER'S MOTHER
Poem by Phan Huy Hung

The fragrant incense smoke curls around
The photo of my son,
His voice, a sound I've known so well,
Why does he not answer my call?

Forty years since the red phoenix bloomed,
The year my son left for battle.
The book he left unfinished,
His handwriting now faded, full of sadness.

I wait for my son, hour by hour,
The plates and bowls set, ready.
He only gazes in silence,
And my heart withers away from longing.

Even with fine porcelain set before me,
My lips taste only bitterness.
I look at his photo once more,
But my son does not respond to my call.

MY GRANDMOTHER

Poem by Dinh Thi Hien

Every year, in the seventh month,
My grandmother feels so much sadness.
She remembers her beloved child,
Who has been gone forever.

The local officials invited her
To attend a commemoration ceremony.
Her eyes fell with sadness,
Wrinkles holding back silent tears.

Then, she begins to tell stories,
Recollections of the old days,
Of my uncle at home,
Her eyes light up once again.

Occasionally, she would still recount,
And I would listen, knowing every word,
The stories now etched deeply,
Always the same, yet never tiring.

Though the war is long past,
The country has grown strong and rich,
The pain remains, unhealed,
Never truly fading away.

Loss is a reality,
Yet my grandmother is always proud
To be the mother of a fallen soldier,
A mother to a hero who is truly worthy.

MISSING YOU!

By Duong Quoc Nam

Peace has come, my child,
But why haven’t you come home for a visit?

Mother calls! The nation needs you,
To drive the Americans out, and bring people together.

You sacrificed for this day,
When our country unites and we build a stronger nation.

How can you come back to our homeland?
You rest here, among the flowers in full bloom.

Mother, I wish for this:
Corrupt officials and destroyers should be gone,
So that the people of our country, near and far,
May see change and prosperity brought by the will of the people.

My dear, your family and parents,
The things you spoke of, are deeply rooted in our love for the homeland.

You, my child, are a shining example,
Of loyalty and understanding the meaning of love for humanity.

With fragrant incense, Mother sends her words,
For in the pain of war, lives were lost and families torn apart.

Mother grieves, tears blurring her sight,
Wishing you peace, while the whole family remembers you.

Missing you, Mother and Father are weary,
Every day they wait, hoping for you to return home.

Though you’re gone, Mother remembers, without complaint,
Working hard to build a bright future for our homeland.

THE NIGHT THAT SOOTHES THE SPIRIT OF THE MARTYR
By Phan Huy Hung

Mother Vietnam lulls the spirit of the martyr,
As dawn breaks,
The light paves the way for Vo Thi Sau.
The enemy flees, with no place to hide,
Mother sings to her child through tears, a mix of sorrow and joy...

At twenty, eternal youth,
The red flag with a star shines on their lips.
The bullet of execution,
The death bullet,
Martyrs,
Live forever,
In the lullaby!
Mother Vietnam,
Gives birth to children,
Gentle like sweet potatoes and yams,
With eyes that bend the muzzle of the gun,
Smiles full of faith.
The spirit of the martyr flies with the shape of the Fatherland,
Pulling life towards happiness and prosperity...

The night,
The lullaby lingers sweetly,
Mother embraces her child in a circle of longing,
Those filial children,
Still tending to the fields,
Still paving the way for a bright future!

The night,
The lullaby buries the dark years,
Lighting the dreams,
Mother of the martyr, never growing old.

Just like the land and sky of Vietnam, with its borders...

The lullaby of the martyr echoes,
Like the waves of the East Sea,
Like the mountains echoing a chorus,
Like Vo Thi Sau standing firm before the enemy’s guns,
Like the posture of Vietnam.
The lullaby echoes for eternity!

MOTHER SITS, ROCKING AN EMPTY CRADLE

By Doan Thinh

Mother sits, rocking an empty cradle,
The lullaby tightly held in her heart, my child.
Lunch and dinner are still here,
Wrapped in the old, faded blanket.

Mother gathers up the marbles,
The shorts, the cap, and the worn-out blanket.
The books rest on the shelf, still fragrant,
Along with everything from our school days.

Helping father with his work,
Her handprints warm the faded table.
Then you, in your foolish youth,
Many times the rod of correction, now a pain to mother.

The war is over, but where are you now?
Fruit hangs, waiting to fall, the areca palm waits,
The betel vines stretch, climbing the thin fence.
The neighbors still mourn, their grief not yet eased.

Looking at your smiling photo,
It feels as if you are standing or sitting here with us.
Mother sways the empty cradle gently,
While the afternoon wind blows, clouds drifting by.

Footsteps echo on the embankment,
Thinking it’s your return.
The moon is high in the sky,
Tonight, mother again sings to the empty cradle.

By Doan Thinh.

REST EASY, MOTHER

By Hương Mrs Le

This July, Mother, I know you miss me dearly, don’t you?
Your beloved son, the one you cherished above all.

You light incense before the altar, quietly,
The smoke curls up, touching the face of the young soldier I once was.

More than forty years have passed, but the tears have long since dried,
Yet the photo remains, as youthful as the day I enlisted.

I had just started my college journey, so full of hope,
Yet I had no time to grow close with my classmates.

Suddenly, I had to leave, answering the call of the homeland,
At eighteen, when life was at its most beautiful.

I had never held a lover’s hand, never known the thrill of a first kiss,
Only the burning desire to fight for my country.

Then, on the battlefield, amidst the chaos and bloodshed,
I left, never to return, Mother.

The son you loved most in this world,
Never had the chance to repay your love and the father’s sacrifice.

The earth cradled me silently, as I gave everything for the nation’s future.

This morning, at the Truong Son cemetery,
The homeland still stands by me, offering incense in remembrance.

My comrades are still here, united in love,
Singing the anthem of our duty, forever young at twenty.

The sky above Quang Tri was bright and clear this morning,
Mother, please don’t cry anymore.

I still visit you, Mother, don’t close the door,
Let me embrace your frail form as you wait for me.

Sai Gon, July 25, 2017

THE SILENT MOTHERS

By Vọng Thanh

Mother sits, frail and weary,
The last meal’s smoke mingling with her tears.
The wind sweeps across, the landscape faint,
Her silhouette, blurred by the passage of time.

***

Is there a pain greater than this, my son?
Who can truly understand a mother’s heartache?
For the nation, Mother endured unspeakable suffering,
For the homeland, through two long wars.

Some mothers silently send their sons off,
As the country teeters on the edge, divided in two,
In Central Vietnam, a mother’s heart is torn,
At Thạch Hãn, blood stains the evening sky.

Some mothers, with ninety million hopes,
Send their husbands and sons off again and again.
With each departure, their hearts break a little more,
Teardrops fall, soaking the pillows at night.

The evening smoke, blending with the mist,
In nine wreaths of mourning, the sky grows dim.
Mother waits for meals twice a day,
Her heart heavy, leaning against the door in sorrow.

Nine sons, a son-in-law, and kind grandchildren,
Their souls lost in the wilderness, by the cold rivers.
In the Truong Son mountains or Thạch Hãn River,
The evening glow stains the eyes of the hometown rivers.

Nine sons, never to return,
The wreaths of mourning, Mother’s eyes blurred with tears.
Oh, Mother’s shadow, tilting as the nation’s soul does,
Forever green, the song of Vietnam’s Mother echoes on!

Mother’s name: NGUYỄN THỊ THỨ - Quảng Nam!!!