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Child Life Poems | Life Poems About Child

These Child Life poems are examples of Life poems about Child. These are the best examples of Child Life poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative |

The Clouds

THERE HE WAS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.

My voice=
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?

Gods voice~
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.

My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of. 
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more? 
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior? 
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’.  Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

Gods voice~  
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.

My voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?

Gods voice~ 
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.  
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.

My voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand.
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days. 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

Gods voice~  
Getting right with me has brought you here!

My voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father.
Can I see her?  I meant, could I see them? My Daughter, Mother's and Sisters~

by;PD


Details | Couplet |

Humanity

If we don’t feel with our hearts, we don’t belong
If we don’t see as one, the world is wrong
Beyond the wars and the hate and the insanity
We are all connected as humanity
We are the child with cancer who still wears a smile
We are the kid from the projects facing trial
We are the pregnant teen feeling lost and used
We are the elderly man in a home abused
We are the young couple, marriage on the rocks
We are the homeless one in a cardboard box
We are the cold and hungry, sad and depressed
We are the lonely child who never felt blessed
We are the woman whose life was filled with pain
We are the man standing alone in the pouring rain
We are the child who struggles day to day
We are the teenage girl who ran away
We are the soldier killed in an unjust war
We are the young man who can dream no more
We are the inmate locked away for life
We are the old man who has lost his wife
We would be better off without our vanity
And have a sense of belonging to humanity.


Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Free verse |

My First Child

A precious gift! Joy unimagined fills my heart She smiles! My heart races, leaping! And like a butterfly in spring, gliding, It dips among new blossoms Like a sweet melody playing softly in the cool of the evening, I soar! My baby, my first, like an angel sleeps Soft, warm and brown I stare in awe of this most perfect gift from God! Tiny almond-shaped eyes, sparkle- searching Nothing as beautiful have I ever seen! She cries and her teardrops like crystal daggers Pierce, my joyful heart! And like a wounded sparrow it plummets Free-falling, and I am left puzzled...confused Nervous, I gently hold her close to my breast I am sure she can feel my heart beating.. Suddenly our faces brush... she turns- Our eyes lock, and smiles ripple! My first born--all is well in my world.
© 1992 ~*~


Details | Rhyme |

Timeless Love

They met at first around sixteen,while they were in their teens.
A young man tall and handsome, a girl with many dreams.
Years later they did meet again this time he was smitten.
It took some time to hook this girl, eventually their history written.

He had a plan to marry her and move her from her home.
She'd have to leave her roots, the only thing she'd known.
Leave her home and family was what she had to do,
The love they shared was eternal even though it 'twas brand new.

This love they shared was a gift,their faith was also strong
They both loved many similar things like fishing, books and song.
Seven children blessed their lives, they started their own tree
So strong this love they shared, became one large family. 

Both worked hard to raise them, devoted to each one,
They shared their love equally to each daughter and each son.
Education and faith were important, practiced with daily prayer
They fed and clothed this family with love and tremendous care

Each child was very different and different paths they took.
Educators, artists, builders, Lawyers and even cooks.
Each child found their partners, some added children to each branch.
All love music, all loved to read, a few even like to dance.

Their children had more children and the two were greatly blessed,
With lovely grandchildren with many traits that both these two possessed
What remained from the love they shared twas passed down through the line
A love this strong must be shared and it surpassed all time

Four generations have now developed from these two whose love began
So many years before when both had shared a plan.
Each twig shares a piece and resembles one or the other
For this love story that's been described was about a Father and Mother

I'd love to say they share a life together here today
But God had different plans in mind, for one he took away
The void he left was devastating to everyone you see
Hardest on the one for which he shared atop the tree

The plan these two created at the time they were entwined
Continues on by one so strong , who giveth all of her time
To the tree these two created which grows branches to this day
The love created by these two shall never go


Details | Rhyme |

An Open Door

   I used to have an open door,
but I can't find it anymore.
Someone closed it from inside,
where all the painful, bad things hide.
And I think I'm in here too,
a child that knows not what to do.

   Scared and lonely , so afraid,
peering through a darkened shade,
Seeing my life pass me by,
because I'm too afraid to try,
to find someone who has the key,
that unlocks the door and sets me free.

   Is it more than just a game,
to feel something besides the shame?
The child inside me wants to know,
but somehow I just can't let it go.
   I used to have an open door,
but I can't find it anymore.


Details | I do not know? |

The Seashell and The Child....

As the tides slowly recede

Remnants left upon the shore

Reflecting beneath the sunlight

That bathes them now, from beyond the once obscure depths

Shimmering and glistening, souvenirs to soon be found and held

By the eager eyes of a childs tender hands

Whom shall rescue them, from their once solitude

No longer their existence without a purpose

For a gleeful heart will bring them home

To be treasured, for countless years to come

And the tales which they shall both then share

Within the smiling whispers amid the night

Innocence of purities never ceasing hearts

Still capable of dreaming, all things beautiful and true

Enchatings impossible, beyond the imaginaries of hope

Stories from the waters, that washed them across all time

Into the warmth of a perfect child

That breathed the breath of belonging, for them both

Through the many magical wonders, of unsullied sight

Thousands of years upon their journies, to this destiny they have arrived

Beneath the glories of Heavens always knowing

Their fate, and their final resting place

In the softness of the endlessness, of the majestical splendors of a child

Where through they crossed these dark and murkened currents, to someday arrive

To be loved within restoration, was their longing and belief

All along as they journied, through this realm of translucent space

This place between nothing, toward these havens of faith

Dlivered from the shadows, into the light of conditions no more

Belonging to their finding, a million stories to be unveiled

To the amazement of a child, whom saw their reason from afar

As with joy they embraced them, and held them close to their heart

Cast upon the shores, glittering treasures beneath this sun

Gathered by the hands, of a perfect one

Beyond the night, it was love, that finally won

The reasons for it all, wrapped eternally, within the purities from above....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Seashell and The Child


Details | I do not know? |

Why would a 12-year girl want to die?

Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Now I lay here with an empty bottle of pills by my side.
It was just too much to hide.
My little brother found me on my bathroom floor.
He went screaming out the door.
The ambulance came and I heard voices fading away.
I can still make out what they say.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Now I lay in a hospital bed.
He can’t hurt you anymore the nurse said.
Thank god the gun box was locked.
Now theirs a knock.
The cops came in and said my sister talked.
They said after what my father did he will never walk.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
He came in my room at night.
Something’s a child just cant fight.
Tired of living with this dirty feeling.
Tired of all together feeling.
Why Daddy Why?
Why would you make me cry, lie, and all-together die?
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
Mom didn’t know.
She said it wasn’t my fault and beyond my control.
They said there were more.
They just were scared to come forward before.
Now I’m on the stand facing a child molester.
The lawyer asks my father.
Why would a 12-year girl want to die?
What would make a 12-year-old girl end her life?
Why would a 12-year-old girl want to say goodbye?
What did you do that was so bad that your daughter wanted to die?


Details | Free verse |

Pink Pink Pink


Pink- Pink- Pink- Every peak has its own attractions, Like the mountains, The mounts of a woman, Have always remained, Her pride possessions. 01 It has the charms, More intoxicating than wine, As it reveals the beauty, Of a woman's alluring binds. 02 These mounts gives, The wings of imagination and colors, In the mind of an artist, And they arise the passion, In lovers mind.03 Their rise and fall, Has shaken great empires, Under their cool and peaceful shade, The dreams of a child form shapes. 04 Its serenity has given birth, To most pious and holy figures on Earth, And their warmth have shaped the dreams, Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05 They feed life giving milk, To every new born light, Every time they laugh and cry, These lofty mounts, Help in forming shapes, When the child begins its story. 06 But these pride possessions, Of a woman, These lofty inspirations, Of Poets, Writers and Artists, These magical charms Which often become more attractive, Than the face of a woman, Are facing, A wide spread pollution,* Which is the unwanted gift of Modern living and They are also the gifts, Of worst living habits, Adopted by thousands, and millions of woman, As they fall prey, Before the charms, And shows of modern generation. 07 Many such wonderful women, Who are in the grip of this pollution,* Have brought this curse on them, Mostly because, Of their own follies and errors. 08 Many such suffering women, Can really get rid of, From the curse of this pollution,* If only they can show, The courage to adopt, The natural way, Of living and breathing, Possible under the boon like shade, Of real Yoga. 09 The reasons, Of the distortions,* Of their pink pink ribbons, Are mainly the results, Of their own creations, And these results, Are not something, For which, One should blame, The destiny or God every time. 10 Some of the serious reasons are, Not caring rightly, For one’s own pride possessions, And the lack of, Physical manipulations. Not keeping, A cool and calm mind, And eating, From morning till night, All the junk foods and wine. 11 And working, Beyond all time limits, While stressing, your peaceful mind. 12 Running and more running To catch others, So that you may not leg behind. 13 And madly crying, For more and more wealth, Even if you have sufficient, For your life time. 14 Are the reasons, Which invite the pollution,* To sow its rotten seeds, To spoil, The enchanting valley, Which exists, Amid the mounts of, Pink pink flowers. 15 The pollution,* Can still be derived out, With the little practice of Yoga, But it remains untouched, And unsung about, By most of the modern women. 16 These otherwise elegant women, Regularly face the problems, Of distress, Lack of peace, And sound sleep. Which ultimately take away, Their happiness, And coolness of mind, Resulting in strengthening more, The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17 Still it is not too late, If they can only change, Their life styles, Their eating and drinking habits, And adopt from today, The way of natural living, By adopting, The boon like Yoga. 18 As the practice of Yoga, Not only add years to your life, But life to your years, as well. 19 Ravindra Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012 *Pollution- The other name of Cancer. Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may write to me on my yahoo mail id: kapoor_skk@yahoo.com I would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga. Ravindra
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745 IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor


Details | Free verse |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.


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