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Ode Childhood Poems | Ode Poems About Childhood

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Details | Ode |

Middle School Nicknames Part 1

I am the girl with many names, 
At first when you said my name, “Madison”- it had been so crisp on your tongue, as if a leaf  of autumn had torn beneath your sneaker. As we walked out together.. on that pastoral day. 

I swooned when you said it, You spoke it, as if it were your own- as if you had picked it from the orchard of names.
You handed me the dainty ones- like, “Maddie.” so soft on your tongue, that it made me feel all warm and fuzzy, like I was cupping a peach in my palms.

Then, one day when you saw me- the true bud blossoming, 
my heart unfolding  like my floral printed skirt, draped over my tiny waist.

That is when you gave me- began to pester me..
with the cute pet names.

I've been called many names, “Cutie.” but I am not a clementine,
my personality is not round, it is curly like my sandy, golden strands of hair.

Oh, but you- You call me “Mad Dog.”

“Mad Dog,” my collar that fits upon the long nape of my neck,
You say it to my friends, and strangers who happen by, “...Oh Mad Dog...” 

Mad Dog- to you is when the apples of my cheeks go rosy, blushing in shades of primrose pink. It is when my brows arch, or my eyes touch the corners,
the edges of the room. 

This name it grows into ivy,
 then flourishes into soft spring blossoms,
of, “Mad Bunny,” “Mad Bear.’ the nurturing names to define my compassion..
and my passion for the love of Mother Earth.

You call me “Thumper,” when I tap my heels on the floor, a ballad 
for you to drum to with your pencil.

The symphony of Middle School nicknames, 
resounding thru my ears… each one following me- trailing behind me, leaving breadcrumbs of what I once was seen as,

As a Middle School girl, with lavender frames, tiny footsteps,
and sweet warbles- stumbling off her tongue.
I am the poetic one, the deep one… who can recite every verse of wisdom, I attain.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Middle School Nicknames Part 2

And yet, you are the charming one, with charisma bursting at the seams of your creme grey sweatshirt.. and the tender strands of your ash blonde hair...
And your gaping eyes of blue, 
that take me into an undertow of enigma
and daydreams. In which I can never escape- from those tides of blue that pour from the irises of your eyes.

You, I call “Brownie.” not only because of your soft brown hair, 
that reminds me of softened chocolate chips baked into the heart shaped cookies I gave you. But to emphasize your sweetness-
 that comes from your tone; 
Your soft syllables they make me melt… melt slowly like a marshmallow caressed by embers of a smoldering campfire.

There is much we give, to one another- I give you my eyes, the sea green swirls 
that make you step lightly into bliss- even though you trip over your own feet.. when preening yourself as I walk by.

And you…
You give me your deep blue eyes, and your long, slow motion winks; 
you share with me the palms of your hands- so soft.. when you touch me.. or stroke the back of my neck, accidentally.

For you are the portrait of Soothing.
and I am your Admirer..
As am I your gallery- and the one painting of gentle colors that you brush with your palms..

The painting:

the dark blue of wildflowers etched- compared to 
my polka dotted dress, that I curtsy in.

The ivory clouds, alike the lace of my tank top...
when you gaze at me, and all the heat flushes back into me.. 
that melts the tips of my fingers… and awakens the seed of  romanticism inside of me.

This Silly little Attraction, where our friends nudge us to touch,
to bare fruit upon the Acacia Tree in our minds… that maybe…

Just maybe we should date, and 
that “Mad Dog,” and “Brownie,” 
should once and for all, share each other's sweet offerings,
Of blissful love.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Ode to my son on his 28th birthday

When I looked up at you the other night
I saw you coming through the door
Framing it with your amazing smile
steadfast, self assured, a happy man
A happy Dutch life with Irish sea-kissed roots
Not just a European but a world class man
As you stood before me, I felt such pride.

When I think of you, I see my little boy blue
Forever young, blond mop, those winsome sky eyes
my spry child, intelligent, forever questioning
hyperactive,  mischievous, a little dare devil
your smile, a mile wide in times of trouble
I see you holding your teddies Ruby and Rupert
Tractors, diggers, broken engines brrrrrrrmm.

Your love of engines, paid off after all
as you shifted gear to driving instruction
For a guy who showed no interest in being a scholar
Now you are the teacher, with a flurry of pupils
I think it works better, this way around.
Your greatest gift is your love for people
Your greatest asset, your winning smile

Keep on living and loving as you do
You view life through a positive lens
Becoming a mother hit me with a new perspective
An appreciation of life, when I gave you yours
Together we grew, and continue to grow
In love and respect, now and forever.

Copyright © Eiken Laan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Ode to my daughter on her birthday - 26

My Sarah
When I looked at you last week trying on your new boots
Those almond eyes sparkling at something new, a gift
I saw my little pink girl, a princess, playing dress up again
Your long hair draped your high cheekbones
Life still a game, tinged with drama and theatre 
As you look for fun in all your pursuits!
A player in life with a passion for cooking and music
You have become a kind, loyal, vivacious young woman
Self assured, grounded with a love of tradition
I looked at you and felt an overwhelming pride.

Sunday’s child is ' bonny, blithe, good and gay' they say
Befitting my Sabbath girl, a model child of few demands
Your bedroom a vast sea of Barbie and friends
A Passion for story-time and books
Your Dutch life with Irish sea-touched roots, 
You are a real continental
A great scholar with degrees in Law and Psychoanalysis
You have found your true love with Luis, a Spaniard
As you both prepare to leave the Emerald Isle
I wonder at the achievement of you!

Copyright © Eiken Laan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Lullaby And Good Night

Sound that brings Back memories Sounds that make One cry …From an ol’ music box… Sound that tears Tears from one’s eyes And wrenches forth Deep sighs …Nothing quite like an ol’ music box… No, nothing says poignancy More so… than does the silken notes That softly flow …From a music box… That plays ‘Lullaby And Good Night’ And tinkles down E’er so slowly Til wound again …Up tight…

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Ode to my son

these words of my heart 
will neither come out of pity
nor will go down the wind
nor, again, will build any city.
But lend me your ears, baby,
and listen to what an old man
can say despite the rods of men.

Live up to your own ambitions.
Keep your heart alive
and your mind working 
with honor and passion.
Take this over from my heart
that has suffered for so long.

There is always a good thing 
to think of and to do 
instead of fruitless tarrying. 
Let not the cold world 
affect you and do its worst.
there is always something
good to be done against it. 

be careful of those people 
who call themselves your friends, 
your enemies are known.
They both have not become 
what they have become
only because the mind, without
the heart, sees differences
and builds on them obstacles
to divide rather than unite.
They used, it is gone now, to be
your friends and the circle
the circle is open and far from full.

When the light and the sun rays 
are leaving, remember to perceive
the natural attitude and substance
of daffodils and innocent flowers.
Hide your tears, baby, from men
and let them fall alone to freshen
the sight of your eyes and vision.
Open your inward eyes of Earth and Eden.

Be always on the move 
and fear not the elements 
of submission and contrition. 
The light is coming in
and love is all around you.
Fear them no more.

Bring yourself to accept
your destiny and look at
the horizons of your heart
to improve your tools 
and feel the power of patience
and reap the harvest of resistance. 
So much depends on them, 
so much depends on you. 

Have time to work, son,
and have time to play. 
Seek to be simple
and look up at
the sunny sphere
without a pair of glasses 
Your eyes are for Earth and Eden 
Keep them pure and undefeated.

But see !!
When the rain comes
as it will in autumn and spring,
summer and winter, son,
don't rush to get an umbrella
and cover your head like many
of them would do and would not.

You already have more than it
your smile can make it 
and the flowers around you
will make it and come along 
to live with you and teach you
how to be yourself and be
one sunny day, to your sons
and daughters, little son,
the father my father
has never been for me. 

Chokri Omri

" L'amour a besoin des yeux, comme la pensée a besoin de la mémoire. "

Copyright © Chokri Omri | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

For my mother's birthday

Dear Lord thank You for a mother
who stayed through it all with us,
who has shown us the way to church,
because in You today I trust.
Thank You for every hardship she faced
for she has taught us sacrifice
now I can give my all to You,
nothing else would have sufficed.
Thank You Lord for all her toil
because she represents great strength
for even in adversity
she persevered through great a length.

If anyone be candidate
let it be her You honour Lord
for You know all about her struggle
and surely You are her reward.
I praise You greatly for Her life
my life without her could not be,
show her Your favour without measure
for everything she's meant to me.


Copyright © Naldeem Bout | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Ode to Humphrey

The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought  laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".

Copyright © Meghan Palmer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Children Of The Night

Goblins and ghouls, we are.
Behind the paint,
Beneath the scars.
We tread the night, 
Nocturne calls.
So fright the stars, we must.
For an ode to monsters,
A worthy trust.

Copyright © Thong Tran | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |


Called to me… before 
…Ever had a chance


…Left its mark on me.
Claiming my soul as its own
Snuffing that glorious spark 
That never grew.

Leaving nothing left
For this world 
But a hollow vessel
That this world 
Has filled with sorrow.

Copyright © Amanda brown | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

The Treetop

The Treetop
A child once began as 
a small infant who scrawled words,
and jumbled letters.

They played hopscotch, and drew with 
multi colored chalk.

Children adorn the world- with their adorable 
beams of light, to their little palms caked in 
rainbow chalk. 

To commemorate these childhood memories...
be so nostalgic.
For deep down in our very soul we yearn to have that
tireless vitality, exulting through our play
Once again. 

The wonder we experienced as children,

The first finding of a fragile butterfly, fluttering 
it wings upon the bridge of our palm. 
the green stains planted upon our jeans, from
rolling down the luscious green hills.

Oh how the mud, stains and constant colors 
sweep us into infinity… the infinite spectrum of childhood.

But we also hold a little snippet of our childhood inside ourselves, for one seedling
was spawned inside our very being, 
This be called our inner child.

Our inner child- knows all. 
It knows our virtues and aspirations,
From the spontaneous switches of 
our values. 

In this world we create for ourselves 
we still be inchworms, inching up 
the side of the grand tree of life. 

We find it formidable at first, trying to reach our 
little arms up, to touch the far boughs of the treetop. 

We climb and climb, and nibble on 
wholesome leaves of knowledge- 

Chewing mathematics, and algebra.

Savoring vocabulary with each morsel 
of a synonym or of an antonym. 

And at the near end.. once we reach the top,

It be lofty and our goals be met from 
the plan we hatched as infants. 

Our idealistic self be nurtured and nourished 
now, by knowledge and the sense of our true self.

The treetop be not the end of our life;
But be the time for us as inchworms and as people..
to flutter where the wind takes us- 

This is not Mexico though, this be the
spacious palm of the 

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Ode To A Tree

Oh Tree, so big and strong
We live life in your shadow.
With thick, broad limbs so long,
You give shelter down below.

Oh Tree, so old and wise,
You've seen the decades spinning.
You've touched so many lives
And children's hearts you're winning.

Oh Tree, so full of green,
Your days are surely numbered.
Still, Living in a dream,
And never having slumbered.

Oh Tree, so worn and bent
Where did all your children go?
The storms will not relent,
Still, you never will let go.

Copyright © Cherie Fleming | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

For my mother's birthday

Dear Lord thank You for a mother
who stayed through it all with us,
who has shown us the way to church,
because in You today I trust.
Thank You for every hardship she faced
for she has taught us sacrifice
now I can give my all to You,
nothing else would have sufficed.
Thank You Lord for all her toil
because she represents great strength
for even in adversity
she persevered through great a length.

If anyone be candidate
let it be her You honour Lord
for You know all about her struggle
and surely You are her reward.
I praise You greatly for Her life
my life without her could not be,
show her Your favour without measure
for everything she's meant to me.


Copyright © Naldeem Bout | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

The Toy Chest

The Toy Chest
Where the Toys are, We love the best
In which, We play with, being of Earnest zest
For they, over the Others, had passed the Test
Making Us, an Interest, in them, decide to invest
Upon retiring them, to the box, for Eternal rest

Copyright © Karin Edwards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

Ode to my Mother

And when I crept under your warm embrace,
Oh Ma! I got to know what the wide world missed.
That shining light of midnight moon,
Swept all over your starry face.

Your smile, to my life a boon,
My temple, a shrine, where you kissed.
Your eyes, the sparkly dew at dusk,
Your voice, the departing cuckoo's tune.

The furtive smile, one with tears that sneaked,
On homecoming, as lone cloud at noon,
True. Your tender feet hold heavens,
Blessed me, with those, first walked and slipped.

The roads you paved, with effulgence,
Took me back, on being brusk,
As sun, behind the mountains always,
At dawn, again your're young as rose whence.

Copyright © Khuzema Mithai Wala | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

Ode To Slippers

A hug for my feet
So complete
No harsh cold floors
Wood, stone, no more. 
Protecting me from harm
A cushion barrier from alarm
Could I be think of something deeper?
The depths of my soul could be steeper
Maybe yes, Maybe no
All I know 
Is I thank you.

Copyright © Sarah Furbank | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Musings of Mother

"I shall be telling this with a sigh" Robert Frost My thoughts they roil like waters dark in the abyss of blackest night with memories of mother’s book marks of Longfellow read by lamp light. She called in the room around me the patter of other small feet, her gentle voice fetched angels Oh, rhymes how they astounded me like lullabies soft and so sweet. All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel Maxine, my queen read Tennyson and the Charge of the Light Brigade a little girl dreamt of caissons roll and thunderous cannonades. To be so brave the small child mused mother’s small, precious, heroine what would it take to stand so strong without father, and not confused What words where the linchpin to right mother’s tell tale wrong. Such sad inspiration*.. mother but a champion you were born. You’re adored before all others yet, tears bring memories forlorn. So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose three kittens and their mittens. My visions of your fleeting smile return almost every night, and your spirit comforts, lightens sights, if only for a little while.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ode |

That Crazy Old Doctor

There've been times in my life
 where I've just had to say,
 "I must, give it all up,
 for, it's that kind of day"!
I must, really say this
 I really, just must;
 if I didn't say it,
 then, it wouldn't be, "just".
There's this crazy, old man
 we'll just call him, "Doc";
 who fills up blank pages
 with, "poetical talk".
He's scribbled, and scrabbled
 'til way, past bed-time,
 trying to finish each poem
 and, complete every rhyme.
If he hadn't done this
 he'd surely gone, "mad",
 his nonsensical nature
 was, all that he had!
No hidden agenda
 when first, he wrote down,
 each poem of nonsense
 to erase a childs' frown.
And, Doc always did this
 manipulate, "clues"...
 ..so that , all of his poems
 were merely geared, to amuse.
He loved to let nonsense
 be the order of the day,
 and, with every poem
 we all smiled, the same way.
His only intention
 was to set our minds, "free",
 his style, just did it
 so, poetically.
With his own tongue, in cheek
we knew we'd been had,
and his poems rhymed perfectly
proving he was no, "fad"!

The volumes of topics
 that Doc's written of,
 included all that could be
 written.....below, and above.
He's written of magic,
 puzzles, and games...
 ..with, strange little creatures,
 with, strange little, "names".
The, crazier his story,
 the saner he'd feel,
 and, the more that we heard
 convinced us they were, "real"!
His poems, were genius
 as he weaved us, a tale;
 with, nonsensical rhymes
 that did so, without..."fail".
"Old Doc", has quit writing
 he's up in heaven,
 this year, his birthday'd ...
 make him, a hundred, and seven!
He's given advice,
 taught what we must do,
 he said, "Be who you are...
 ..no-one's youer, than....you!"
He's maybe still writing
 in, heaven....you see,
 that'd be just like him
 as, that's who he must, be!
That, silly old doctor...
 ..as silly, as a goose;
 we all loved his poems,
 for, we loved Dr. Seuss!

Copyright © david goodwin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Ode to My Middle Child

Patterns gleam in the sun
Threads lie side by side
Or criss-cross
In intricate patterns
Like individuals intersecting
Within the family
Each dependent yet separate
Blues, reds, greens and yellows complete the rhythm
Any strand pulled from this parade of colors
Reveals a gap in dreams unfulfilled

How I love you,
My middle child,
You are the elegant pendant
Dropping gracefully
From our necklace’s mid-point
Giving meaning to our chain of life

How I love you,	
My middle child,
You are the glue
Within life’s weavings
Irrepressible giggles erupt in play with older sister
Whispered consultations emerge from pillow sessions with younger brother
Bridging, always bridging
Giving, always giving

Know, my middle child,
Those stirring fears
Of being in between
Are fleeting ghosts
Your constant beauty shines
Like the lighthouse globe
Signaling to all 
Your presence

Rejoice in your role,
My middle child,
Imagine a shimmering reflection pool
Whose immutable colors
Expand and multiply
You are vital to a whole
That is greater than its parts
And you are loved deeply

Happy Birthday, Maureen
Love, Mom
September 27, 2014

Copyright © Kathleen Kroll | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |


Its been a year since you left me
Although i know it will happen
Still loneliness flowing all over my body
Longing when we were together as my buddy

Oh i wanna be with you always
Where i have freedom to play in that innocent place

Time with you is my treasure
No one can measure thats for sure
With your golden heart and caring hand 
I feel like a princess with your magic wand

Oh how i love to be with you always
Where i can find inner peace just by the soothe of your palm

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach
In each scene I notice two footprints in the sand
Then all of a sudden sadness disappear
I know somehow through the low time of my life you never left me

Oh how i love to be with you always
But i know you have to rest your tired body

So for now just let me feel your embrace by wind
Kiss me no goodbye nor end coz I know we will see each other again
Will swing me in your arms and sing that lullaby you used to sing

I love you with all my heart grandma, 
till we meet again...

Copyright © Edz Roxas | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

The Motive of Our First Love

The Motive of Our first Love

From the day you were born, 
at 9:56 pm.. you murmured
and cried.
Your deep blue eyes drew everyone 
near to you, 
like a lanterns cerulean light..
catching the eyes of people;
The dawn had arisen from its trance..
but It had to rise, it couldn't fawn over you
Yet as you grew.. you grew more beautiful 
each minute love caressed your soul.
and Wonder enveloped your 
My memories can spin to infinity
of every cute babble that spilled from 
your mouth.
Baking with you was the most memorable 
and adorable, 
I tied your sandy blonde hair into a 
I rolled up your light pink sleeves dappled 
with little cherries;
There I handed you a white plastic bowl 
brimmed with 
strawberries, we mixed them together,
Shared the same vibration as mother and 
daughter, working systematically. 
The mother daughter team,
You touched the electric mixer and fiddled with it
since your little arms were to passive to put enough force 
to the mixers handle. 
So I touched your little hand, 
and you looked at me with your tiny smile;
and I beamed.. knowing that our love 
was infinite.. no matter distance, struggles
and on and on.
But from that day you weaved your finger through 
the loop of mine… I knew you were 
Just like me, and that we would take care of each other 
as years went on.
You would give me the love I lost through the 
childhood I had;
As mother and daughter working synchronized 
as one body and one motive 
to love.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016

Details | Acrostic |

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)

Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)	






            I haven't been on this site long, but many of you have already made me feel
welcome, and, moreover, like I belong.  I'm finding myself as inspired as I have ever been
to keep writing, and to keep growing as a writer, thanks to your support, your contests,
and your own original posts.  This is, truly, a special community.  
            Thanks for allowing me to become a part of it.

Copyright © John Taylor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Ode To Childhood

Tender petals of youth wither and fade

Stinging the soul with regret

Sharp penance of years

A yearning too deep for tears

A token of repentance

Times short pleasure to take

Youthful mirth vanishes away

Copyright © Lori Lucas McClure | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Ode to the Ozarks

Growing up in the Ozarks, for brother, sister and me
meant, for the most part, that we were totally free.

We had freedom to explore, to roam about at will,
there was no one to fear in those Arkansas hills.

We searched for wild plums, grapes and berries,
knowing Mother would make luscious jams and jellies.

We listened for the owls in the stillness of the night,
the call of the whippoorwill, waking us at first light.

The woods were calling, luring us farther each day,
eager to investigate, we did chores without delay.

We gathered mushrooms, springing up after a rain,
Mom would "fry them up," serve lunch fit for a king.

Terrapins and "tumblebugs" were fascinating to watch,
we spent time in stillness observing their steady march.

Wildflowers were abundant, struggling up through rocks,
signaling us that it was time to shed our shoes and socks.

We ran barefoot in summer, our soles tough as leather,
one pair of shoes per year, saved for cold weather.

We climbed over rail fences and through barbed wire too,
where persistent beggar's lice clung to clothes like glue.

We made our own toys, such as the "guide & wheel,"
keeping the wheel rolling took practice and skill.

We swept leaves away, hauled rocks till muscles burned,
built outdoor playhouses, impersonated adults by turn.

Fueling our imaginations and fostering dreams untold,
our play brought us together in a love we'd always hold.

This poem would go on and on if I named every pleasure,
suffice it to say instead we've many memories to treasure

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Wishing For A Rainy Afternoon

I viewed the dawn through mist of fading dreams,   
Aware of silver feet upon the roof.
Eaves shivered wet, while raindrops welcomed spring
With murmured sounds, and giving me excuse
To burrow down and doze, with warming trace 
Of childhood mornings, which have blown away.
I stretch my arms and rise with no regrets,
And see a rainbow’s face
That arches over hills so far away,
From crayons of time, that I will not forget

I love the rain that falls upon the grass 
And look beyond the margins framed inside. 
I sense renewal come with mute caress,
Will find new places where my soul resides.
The child in me will dance among the dew,
In soggy dress and mud between my toes,
Not to be dampened by a state of care…
Although the day is blue…
My inner child ignores the dark and low, 
And thinks of rain the gift of something new. 

Contentment comes from little things I do
Old storybooks will dazzle wishes, fed…
to make believe that wishes could come true
I drink some tea, with snack of jam and bread,
And once again, with growing up to do
Old scrapbooks found, to leap right through my age
Just one more moment as the child relents 
My childhood bids adeiu
Recalling now, how fondness comes with sage
But knowing now, how well those days were spent~

In Honor of Cyndi's Contest: Comforts of a Rainy Afternoon

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

The Day We Burned Doug Richter

It was a summer day dressed in boredom
For four suburban Ohio boys
Looking for some excitement
In their banal lives from their banal toys

We took some old models of Navy ships
To a distant wooded stream
Armed with a box of blue tip matches
And mason jars filled with gasoline

We loaded up the ships 
Full of the flammable fuel
And set them adrift in the stream
Thinking we were kind of cool

Then Jonsey had an idea 
On how to create an eternal flame
As he slowly poured gas from his jar
Into a ship that towards him came

Before the words escaped our mouths
That his idea was a foolish one
The flame shot up the stream of gas
And his jar he quickly flung

Some landed on my bare legs
Singing adolescent hair before patted out
Then suddenly I was aware 
Of the words Johnny started to shout

“Drop and roll, drop and roll,” he did scream
I knew his instructions weren’t intended for me
I looked up and saw a dancing figure of fire
Doug was aflamed from head to knee

I was headed towards him to make a tackle
When he dropped and rolled on his own
The fire was quickly doused
But he was already severely burned

Doug bravely walked home alone
To tell a story that didn’t implicate us
As we watched hidden from down the street
His parents take him to the hospital in a rush

We moped in guilt for hours that day
Before we decided we had to confess
So we made our way back to Doug’s house
And gave it our very best

Doug was going to be okay
A few scars and plenty of pain
His parents made us make a vow
Never to play with fire again

I wore jeans the rest of that summer
To hide my bare, red legs from my Mom and Dad
They never knew the part that I played
In this saga that turned out bad

As future summers came along
We accepted the boredom quite solemnly
Not wanting to repeat that day
We tried to escape the banality

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2011

Details | Sonnet |

Ode to Arizona on a Hot Summer's Day

Ode to Arizona on a
Hot Summer's Day
Written by Adam M.

Oh sweltering is
summer's day of
So hot the desert's
kiss from sun above.
And sweat that drops
cause me to
reminisce -
the past, a summer's
day a child would

A playtime in a
grassy field of
and from a hose the
water cool and free;
oh such a joy is
this midsummer's
the children's
laughter flows in
joyful spree.

I wish that day
would greet me just
once more,
The joy of feeling
free on summer's
Instead I am
confined to cool
Upon my laptop
typing verse to

Midsummer's Day you
make me such a fool
I fear your heat
will be forever

Copyright © Adam M. Snow | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

The World Turns

the hyena cackle of rifle fire,
the wails of mothers and babes blown out like candles, 
smothered by the cold winds of war. 

little stumpy legs and thin spindly arms,
the body of a child soldier,
falls into the mud,
no tears fall, 
no lips kiss the wounds better,
no service carried,
no grave dug,

the world doesn't stop turning,
though we wish it would,
can life be worth it,
if this is part of the deal,
all the pain.

war, famine, rape, and toil,
beneath the machine a heart beats,
nature red in tooth and in claw,
and the sad truth is, 
that it was the heart that was cold 
and the machine that allowed us the means 
to a greater kindness.

but there is no such kindness here,

in those war zones evergreen of 
Syria, Nigeria, Uganda and the Congo, 
where innocence is lost amidst the struggles of tribes, 
where humanity is sacrificed,
at the alter of the demons inside us, 
paranoia fuelled by the green beard effect, 
the chains of our evolutionary make up,
tie us to this hatred, 
this fear, 
this wanton destruction. 

an all consuming fire, 
where mothers are whores, 
beaten and chastised, of no worth 
and fathers are spies for the enemy, 
rats to be tried by hungry executioners, 

a fire that turns children into dead eyed beasts and compassion into a fairy-tail.

little stumpy legs and thin spindly arms,
fall into the mud,
no tears fall,
no lips kiss the wounds better,
no service carried,
no grave dug.

The world turns, 
no matter how much we may wish it would stop,
the world turns.

Copyright © Oliver Gould | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Untitled #43 / Centripetal force

Centripetal force of a
whirling waterbottle, captured in it
the tornado of our youth
and reflecting a goofy smile.
Dare you say centrifugal?
Dare you graze the edge of a sharpened sword?

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |


...a darling dear of time is when the  tick-tock, of the clock stops, during a dancing wind chimes rendition of just how invisible things move me, to write, darling dear a rhyme, 

the peak of a mountain top experiencing, 

the soul

O' darling dear

a love letter,
a rhythm,

a liberty,

just one of those things that

of the everlasting.

Copyright © Marrio Biggs | Year Posted 2012