Writing Childhood Poems

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Details | Light Poetry |
Oh the Ghosts, Oh the Ghosts!!!
The Ghosts of Christmas shall haunt the wicked
They shall haunt the bitter and sorrowful decrepit creatures
Your hunched back and wallet will be no shield
For the three ghosts of the Christmas past

I Sir am the ghost of the Christmas past
Fear not I shall do yee no harm
That, you have already done upon your own wicked soul
Yes, that is you, as a young man, full of piss and vinegar as they say
Oh I know, you young ones then called it love, sore sight that was

I sir am the ghost of the Christmas present
Fear not, the bitter cause their own harm, not I for sure
They seethe within their own discontent and folly
The chains you hear old scrooge, are not mine
They are the irons that chain your heart to the wheel of wealth

I sir am the ghost of Christmas future
Fear not, for there is hope for all mankind
Even you, who counts coins like lovers count kisses
When you wake, you shall remember not, all these wise illusionary dreams
Old scrooge, the gift of mercy shall bestow a last grasp at happiness, take yee    hold!!!

The most festive of December days, the sun rose in the cold brisk air
Scrooge awoke, and the inexplicable sound of laughter filled his dreary bedroom
Pure unadulterated joy from the grumpiest of old men
The maid fled in fear, what insanity must have possessed this bitter old lard
Ah but happiness was indeed in the air

On with his topcoat and hat, nary a moment to ponder
Of he went to his secretary’s house
Carol, Carol !!!! He exclaimed, yes, I am not mad not crazy nor insane, open the door!
Possessed maybe, but only of joy, that I, the one so filled with animosity
Now I see, by the grace of the god, the love before my very eyes!!!

Well Carol and Scrooge passed a very Merry Christmas indeed!!!!!


Notes: This take of “A Christmas Carol” is from fond memories as a child, when our Dad “made” us watch this movie over the years! Blessed are those with such fond childhood memories of Christmas! 

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014




Details | Sonnet |
Tiptoeing in the middle of  the night
Certain that Mom and Dad are out sight
Stealing away to do what I love best
Heart pounding like a hammer in my chest

There on those linen sheets you wait for me
All spaced out,  and as blank as blank can be
I close the door and hide away the key
Escaping  from a life of drudgery

Once again putting my life on the line
Though Mom and Dad say it is such a crime
Neglecting my homework to be with you 
Knowing to thine own self I must be true

So with pen in hand I lay myself down
And pray that this diary won’t be found

Author:  Elaine George
                  
Written:  may 19, 2014 
Inspired By my imagination for the  contest
 

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
A "collaboration" with Edgar Allan Poe's poem titled, "Alone"


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were - I have not seen
As others saw - I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.

     Where years of mingled adolescent voices
     Denied a heart and it's choices
     My quiet self could not speak
     Another outcast - a soul unique.

From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.

     Pages of art, the written word
     An interest each one found absurd
     A solemn love that I must hide
     To keep when I and time can abide.

Then - in my childhood - in the dawn
Of a most stormy life - was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:

     How - in melancholy youth - I found
     The companion to whom I remain bound,
     I do not know precisely the day when
     Though I knew I had gained a friend.

From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold -

     The years dragged on without relent
     As months of solitude were spent,
     Down a new road I traveled then
     Meeting destiny, though I knew not when.

From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by-
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

     Undeterred by any supernatural power
     Or life's occasional teardrop shower
     My soul kept tight hold of passion
     Let me fulfill it in my own fashion
     This outcast "demon" found in me a friend
     Alone together, now and beyond the end.




Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015




Details | Free verse |
One

onetime-
I was just    one child all alone
and I wrote one piece
a day of poetry
grandma said
take one day at a time

uniqueness     singleness     oneness         

one place      I loved
was the attic
I was the only one there
playing make-believe dreams
doing the one-step waltz with dolly

it was a one-sided conversation

and I said
dolly    I   for one    disagree
the one person I want to marry
will come one sweet day
and it will be a unity of two
and then I would sing her a song
in a one long octave note     monotonous

uniques
     singleness
           oneness

I liked to tell one line jokes for grandma in the kitchen
put on a one man show for mom and dad after supper

dad gave me a one dollar bill
for every poem I wrote
I still have the first one   he said
    be oneself
       take one direction in life
           
and I grew up   solitary 
to write poems
each one is beautiful to me
I'll get a break one day
one never knows about tomorrows

I hold dear    my belief   in
uniqueness     singleness    oneness

then    one sad day grandma passed away
I cried all alone    in that attic
I'll see you again one day   grandma

______________________
September 3, 2015


Free Verse


For the contest, One, sponsor, Rob Carmack

Ninth Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative |
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE


You’re the weak one, you’re a bully.  The weak one is definitely
not me.

The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.

So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.

Your weakness began on your first bullying day.

Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.

I actually feel a little sorry for you.

Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.

Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate. 

Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?

Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect, 
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.

	Al Johnson
 

Copyright © Al Johnson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Bio |
Hello, Farrah....
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi    (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......)  Hope you have a happy day.....write an 
indepth poetic bio??   I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas?  Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon 
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history)  What 
city are you in?  Ever travel???  A favorite destination???  Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?"  We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and 
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies???  Need books to read??  I got a library 
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my 
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect.   I have lots 
of funny stories.   I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years 
of living.   Youf friend in poetry, tom."

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Bio |
I'm the ultimate
bookworm
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of reading
of writing
of using thought
for something
a  little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
in books
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
for you
each book adds
another flavor
to your being
another star
to your mind's sky
they are things
of beauty
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two

so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when 
I could afford
to accumulate
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver

I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
never....
for any reason under the sun

I have diaries from the civil war
faded slightly
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
a librarian
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck 
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |
Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame,
Swirling down, separated out and mixed.
If you’ve seen it, it’s broken;
If you’ve heard it, it’s shredded;
If you’ve read it, it’s rewritten.
It's really quite unlikely to be fixed.

You’re cutting up holiday snaps
and pasting them onto card.
And you’re scrambling madly
to hide the mess on the floor
As your mum yells for cleanliness
From behind your bedroom door.
3001 puzzle pieces and you’re jamming them together,
No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether.
You’ve got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds
“What comes… what comes next?”
You’ve got two roots in the soil
“What comes… what comes next?”
Your mother is sitting in the hall
With a scarf tied round her neck,
Her back pressed up against the wall
As she deals the jigsaw deck.
3001 pieces in her hands,
Mixed with childhood drawings
And grains of sand.
She lays out seven in a line,
Which you place between the two and two.
“Oh, but that and that won’t rhyme!”
“Don’t you think that this one will just do?”
And your father’s disapproving in the kitchen,
“You don’t need no occult nonsense,
Or a system to order out your brain”
He just stands there “focussed”
Over a pot on a blue/green flame,
Subconsciously mumbling while stooped,
“Look here Son, look, I’m making poa-tery soup.”
But you would never tell him that,
Just like you’ll never be finished, ever.
No-one ever is
Even if they know they’re doing it or not.

My grandfather died last week,
The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man
That you’re ever going to meet.
The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat.
They said that there was something wrong there,
Something wrong with his brain,
That there was something strange there
Fundamentally, main.
They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall,
When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open,
And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.

Copyright © Chris McCartney | Year Posted 2005

Details | Free verse |
Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-
zontally

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
IOUSLY?

Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Senryu |
Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!

Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Frowns exchange 

Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 

Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pantoum |

We remember her in blue skies.
She searched her young heart for answers.
She focused on beauty and hope,
with wisdom for all the world.
She searched her young heart for answers.
Her courage shone through her words
with wisdom for all the world,
and a spirit beyond her age.
Her courage shone through her words.
She focused on beauty and hope,
and a spirit beyond her age.
We remember her in blue skies.

Suzanne Delaney

A Pantoum

My first Pantoum.  I was so surprised.  It practically wrote itself.

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |
I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…

Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
I wrapped all my tears, to see you smile.
you are the best, always by my side.
I tell you my feelings will get you crying,
you must think I’m out of my mind.

You don’t know, what I know,
all the angels let me go.

We were born to teethe and die,
you will grow to be so fine.
Fall in love, feel your softer side,
Remember me when life is kind.

When you go, let me know,
don’t walk away like the world and go.

Life is rough and the world unkind,
fight them down and you will be fine.
The truth of live is a brutal sight,
make no mistakes, you can learn from mine.

You have a strong heart, you are unique
I treasure times when you smile at me.

Live the life, I could not find,
be there for me, when I say goodbye.

Copyright © Karan Patade | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
As I sat and wrote this poem, I was grateful for my cozy home. I started praying on my knees, And suddenly I could write with ease. I am sure, that if you pray, He’ll be there for you each day. He’ll show you your talents and your calling, And when you are down, He’ll catch you from falling. When I’m praying on my knees, I know it’s Him I’m going to please. By writing these poems and spreading the Word, He knows when they’re read, His voice will be heard! I hope He makes you smile today! I know it happens if you pray!
Michelle D. ©6/15/06

Copyright © Michelle DeGironemo | Year Posted 2010

Details | Concrete |
There are four seasons in a year. Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. In the Spring time, you can enjoy the outdoors and go for a walk. And look at the trees turning beautiful colors, you can also enjoy raking the leaves into a big pile and jump into them. We also know the New Year is coming with Winter. Winter is a cold month with snow, now the children can play outside in the snow. And everyone else can enjoy the snow also.

Copyright © Frances Roberts | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Things get bad, then they get good again.
You can write yourself angry.
You can write yourself sick.
But never
ever
should you write yourself sorry.

The world, to me, is many things:
A canvas, a movie, a place to store
everything you are and will ever be,
but never a bell jar.

As long as your hands can shake
and your voice can quiver,
never close the door.

Love the ground under your feet,
and your only sadness 
will be that a blanket of sky 
can't keep off the cold. 

Smile with every breath you take, 
and you'll realize that, 
no matter how much you weep,
you will never fill an ocean.

Look inside your heart:
There's answer there.
You'll find,
deep in an oblivion of night,
there is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light,
but it's brighter than darkness.
Follow it.

If you seek, you will find 
yourself always involved in 
something,
and as long as that door never closes,
whatever something will be enough.

I promise.

Copyright © jes russick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
For nine months
With love and pain
With joy and suffering
In her womb she carried me
A mother she is 
And a woman of virtue.

When there was no one, she was the only one
Even left alone, she never leaves me alone
Indeed, she’s a mother 
And a woman of virtue.

When toddling, she cared
And still directs when I could run
She is a mother of the child and the adult
In her thoughts are all, even the descendants to come
Many names will I call her; “A mother of all”
And a Woman of Virtue.

Copyright © Francis Twumasi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ballad |
 
My name is too old fashioned Daddy, I want a new name, please! When I was quite young I hated my name, it's too long and old sounding, I complained that I wanted a fun name. One day Dad told me about his long dead sister, a great writer- like me, I said in a whisper. And was quite beautiful also, he said, and you have her eyes and long raven hair. I loved her so much and gave you her name. My name is too old fashioned Daddy, I want a new name, please! I wondered why I was like her so much, as she was long dead before I was born. Dad showed me a picture and it was true. I asked my Daddy, if I could keep that picture, he told me all about her quest for adventure. So, I decided to embrace my name, somehow her spirit dwells inside of me, and it still lives in my soul and writing. My name is too old fashioned Daddy, I want a new name, please! ___________________________ January 10, 2017 Ballad For the contest, What's In A Name? sponsor, Silent One Second Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2017

Details | Limerick |
Wind sock kites can be seen along the beach
Couldn’t afford one; always out of reach
     Until that Wednesday
     When one got away
“Please, Mom, let it be mine,” I did beseech

No other kids were in sight on the sand
I grabbed the string; the kite took off as planned
     Seagull in the way
     Tangled right away
Snarled in the jetty, I saw it crash land



*Entry for Gwendolen’s “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” contest
Dedicated to Alexa Brus who has helped me hone my writing abilities and gave me the encouragement to continue writing when my muse escaped.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |
Hand in hand we walked 
together into Reception
Nothing could stop us and 
together we were three
James and I LARP-ed Doctor 
Who for fun
We talked and laughed for 
hours
Because no stress was in our 
way
Anna and I smiled and laughed
And jumped on our bouncy 
castle
With nothing dividing us.

Side by side we walked 
together into Year 6
Some stranger stopped them to 
talk and broken we were alone
James and I talked about 
Doctor Who for fun
And we talked and kissed for 
hours
But misunderstanding broke us 
up
Anna and I still smiled and 
laughed
And joked about our bouncy 
castle
But secondary school was going 
to divide us.

With no one there I walked 
alone into Year 7
And a stranger became my 
friend and together we were 
two
Violet and I both loved Doctor 
Who
And James found Dominic
So James and I talked for mere 
minutes
And school started pulling us 
apart
Anna and I still laughed and 
smiled
Still promising to be friends 
Never letting it divide us

Suffocating and drowning I 
walked into Year 9
Hating how I was and feeling 
alone
Katie and Chloe were so pretty
And Violet so funny and all 
were better than me
James and I hardly talked or 
saw each other
But we still made the most of 
our friendship
As we were like family, stress 
couldn’t break us apart
Anna and I laughed but I did 
not smile genuinely
Because the bouncy castle was 
long gone
And our schools were beginning 
to divide us

Dead yet breathing I stand 
right now
And I hate who am I and every 
single detail
Fights broke us up and pulled 
us apart
So I can feel Katie, Violet and 
Chloe
Falling further out my reach
James moved house to a place 
unknown
And blamed me for never 
talking to him
But really it was because of my 
ex who was a girl
It was for something beyond 
my control
Anna and I were still friends; 
only by a thread
As she did not know about me
And how school broke me apart

So this is me now; I’m all alone
No longer the smiling young girl 
of reception
The only person talking to me 
is me
And the voice in side my head
You see; they all left me and 
always will
So now the only call I answer
Is that of my blades
And the darkness
That is constantly
Pulling me
Down

Copyright © Teenage Frustrations | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Wresting words from mind to pen
Spilling ink and thoughts again.
Recalling days of youthful fun,
Bags of marbles, precious ones.
Unshared secrets, memories old
Hidden deep in velvet folds, 
Memories slip from faded pouch
Scattering verses all about
Things that matter most to me
Are those that others never see
I take them out occasionally 
To touch caress, so selfishly
Not for prying eyes are these, 
In rush I gather them to me, 
Hold them close and breathe them in
Until I bring them out again.

Copyright © Gail Roberts | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |
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 | Imagism |
They ride the good dragon-cloud towards warm light
While wistful wind was a wrongdoer on the hollow hill
Wrapped woven from the wounds and wrath`s night, 
The wood will wear white woolly witness of the windmill.

Hoarfrost hitch-hikes and hoists with hoarse hood,
Drumming beat of hobble of the army`s fatal feet,
Far away from the glow-worms of their childhood;
Friends fumble the glassware where they might meet.

Falteringly frogs of fancy jump towards the lake’s glass; 
Orphan souls sit on the steps of hope in winter`s time
They scrutinize the frozen sky of hope to find the rhyme 
Of the verse from the other side they want to happily pass.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION







Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011

Details | Epitaph |
This type of love have been in the lives of all children (boys and girls) for some time to
come. It's been like that since the day the kids started going to camp and elementary
school. It seems as though that when a little boy had fallen in love with a little girl or
the other way, their hearts start to beat, they're getting this emotional feeling in their
ribs, thoughts rushing tn their brains, and that kinda stuff. It will have looked like
that their parents will have know that their kids were in love with each other, even from
the beginning. There's been a lot of young relationships that have begun back in
elementary school and at summer camp, especially when one little boy had met one little
girl when they were participating in a lot of camping activities (kayaking, e.g.). But
what's so great about a lot of long-term relationships most of all is when this boy and
this girl are talking to each other on the phone on a Saturday night. This type of young
love among children from around the world is starting to look like the movie, "Little
Manhattan" with Josh Hutcherson. It's also as if this was a real fairy tale. Sometimes,
some relationships among kids don't last long, but some of them do. And when it comes to
these kids-before-teenagers falling in love with each other, there is such thing as love
at first sight. Love follows all of the children everywhere they go; it exists. Their
parents will have gotten this funny feeling inside, especially when they were supposed to
know what their lives were like as children when they met and fell in love. Let's hope
everybody knows that young love exists. Let's also hope that the parents know that their
children are in love with each other. And if this type of young love continues to grow and
grow and grow day in and day out, their hearts will never be broken in the near future.
Let's hope they stay together forever.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Limerick |
Fine horses they ride through the glen
A beautiful maid sleeps within
Brambles hold them at bay
Letting love find the way
Even knights give up in the end
 

Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2011