Best Childhooddream Poems


Optimistic

It was mostly in white 
and in other colors maybe,
Had everything a child need
Had every dream a child dreams
It was a smile
It was innocence
It was warm
It was security
Had all three of us wrapped 
slept tight into the deepness of it
into easy and simple
caught up too strongly, not to leave
A Good bedtime story would justify our needs
too young and too pure
We were together, here and for all
Even the atmosphere's scent smelled love
It is everything I dream about now
It was a peace of mind and it is,
Just a memory of it 
Do you still know well your own childhood?
How little mind of yours kept  Big happy thoughts
How little heart of yours loved truly the whole world
How little you were, and how small were your penalties
How far you looked ahead to the future,
By tomorrow you were hopeful and content about yesterday
But now,you're all grown up and life is just a pass ticket to hell or heaven,
Lost hope in tomorrow and ain't satisfied by how yesterday came
How long have you been like that and since when life took over,
Were you optimistic or naive ?
When you used to build castles out of mud
When you used to dress to be like a superhero
When you used to root for the good to win,
knowing deep down it will always do
You gotta be thinking now
Must been a naive,
Yet you were OPTIMISTIC !

Journey Into Life

For Constance~A rambling Poet' Fragmented Dream contest... The journey dream category
By Deb Wilson

In the blackened silence she waited
Knowing that she was ill-fated
As the clock ticked away on the wall
The shadows began to grow tall

The crackling of the staircase
Put a grimace on her little face
She slid down deep in her bed
Hid from the words that he said

And can anyone tell her that love
Should feel like it's sent from above
Not the wounds he inflicted on her
Nor the evil that would occur

She'd close her eyes so tight
For her there was no light
And when the deed was done
She had nowhere to run

But run she eventually would
Creating a life that was good
She stuffed it all down deep
Till one night in her sleep

She awoke with blood-curdling screams
After having one of those dreams
As her daddy stood over her bed
She recalled all the things he had said

The years flew away like a crow
As now she began to know
The man standing there wasn't real
She no longer had to feel

Like a tiny child with no hope
A climber without a rope
In her mind she slew him for good
As strong on her ground she stood

This journey began in sorrow
A dream with no tomorrow
But she'll rise up through the smoke
She's badly bent but not broke
© Deb Wilson  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Midnight Freight

As a carefree lad I used to lie awake at night and wait,
To hear the mournful wail of the Nickel Plate midnight freight,
As it slowly wended its way thro' moonlit hill and vale,
Across the verdant Hoosier prairie on its silvery rail.

I dreamt of the far-away places from whence it came and went.
'Til I tasted the adventure if proferred, I'd never be content.
To be the engineer of that mighty brute was my aspiration,
And I vowed to pursue that dream with youthful determination!

The fireman stoked the coal, creating a feathery plume of smoke,
His massive hulk keeping the firebox full, never missing a stroke!
The conductor from his throne in the trailing red caboose,
Managed all, the other crew thinking him somewhat obtuse!

I even learnt one of its signals that I remember to this day:
Two long, one short, one long, meant it was crossing a highway.
I often wondered what loads it was carrying across the nation;
Corn, wheat, cattle or hobos heading for a greener destination?

I suppose that young boys dream and old men tend to scheme,
Striving their best to capture that ever elusive dream.
Alas, I never became the engineer that I wanted to be,
But it created in my soul a desire for places I pined to see!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)


The Picnic

The dawn of a new era.
Noises dream while children play.
In the light of the sunset, I see
Yellow sunlight shine warm upon my face.
Full of grace, I lay my head upon my
Pillow and dream of a multitude of
Colors and crayons - water colors and
Orange marmalade. Biscuit, biscuit!
Who has the jam?

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