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The Best Childishness Poems

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Crossed Me At The Borderline, Just In Time

-------------------------------------- ~*note: done in fun and aimed at no one~  



try and seed my name you'll concede to shame
no use in calling names to lose the game

yir' ill will is just plain disastrous 
asinine avatars deserve an asterisk

as for being fact-less, your slaps don't diss
every lick you spit simply tends to miss

harmless words that curse, rehearsed childishness
gets your face erased and they'll say who's next

as defilement arrives inside your text
that's when shame wheels you back, right to the nest.


~10 syllables in each of 10 rhyming lines~


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014


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embrace

please, let me embrace
this spiritual place
from where i emanate

give me the power
to endure
that i may elevate

and understanding,
and wisdom,
-will perpetuate

a deeper level of vision 
that i may
resonate.

and i will rise above
towards love

and u will rise above 
towards love

and we will rise above
towards love

allow me patience, 
and trust,
inside my circumference

360 degrees
without
incompetence

and bless me
with maturity
to balance childishness

for he who seeks 
knowledge
begins with humbleness.

and i will rise above
towards love

and u will rise above
towards love

and we will rise above
towards love

i seek the blessings 
of those
of higher consciousness

i walk the roads
of divine complete 
eternalness

and in my mind
i can find
that which is endless

but still
i have to confess
i need a place
-to rest-

and i will rise above
towards love

and u will rise above
towards love

and earth will rise above
towards love

embrace.


Copyright © Trevor Houchen | Year Posted 2005


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Boss Lady

Boss Lady!  Boss Lady?  Whatever do you mean?  
Do you mean I’m hip, I’m fly, I’m stylish, what?  
Do I accept an accolade, or are you being snide?
Or is it innuendo; yes… true, that just could be it too.  

Of course, you could be like one, who scoffs at his own issues;
for he is in denial, and refuses to resolve them.
What that means quite frankly dear is that you are insecure; 
and women who assert themselves just scare the pants off you,
 but you won’t tell that either.  

What could you lose but childishness if once you would admit? 
This better half of you in me has more than half a mind, and works.  
So well it works, (the female brain) you hardly can admit it; instead 
Your first defense is always, “women just don’t get it”.  
And there you go, that wall goes up and words… they just don’t matter; 
then reason doesn’t stand a chance, you say, “Oh, you’re so damn frus-tra-ting”.

If you would relax and keep quite still, it will not take long to see, 
the things Boss lady can not do she smiles and  calls for you.  
The reason friend is fairly simple, we make what’s called a team.  
Boss ladies do insinuate, but only to implore, 
you must stand tall, or you will fall, as prey to an imposter ;
Just recognize the one who sighs, though cute, is what? An interloper.


Copyright © Karen Abbott | Year Posted 2009


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Our Father

This is where my grief met Jeremiah's lamentations

OUR FATHER
As far as the east is from the west, that’s how far the Lord has removed our transgressions from us?
Why do I feel not far removed from my sins or the sins of others?
Suffocated by faults and indiscretions of human-ness that lacks discretion
Of fearlessness; the lack of intuition
Of childishness but a child born in the wrong time?
But God’s timing is always right?
Can you see this Lord?
Is heaven mastering this disaster only for our inferior minds to finally resurrect from the shambles?
And realise that You have been building us a new city all along.
I believe in the Author of fate so maybe that is where my hope springs from
Or from the crippling fear of the effects of reality
Disappointment
Shock
Is this how feeble we are as humans?
How our chromosomes, blood cells, alleles all created from dust can just wither away when one gust of wind comes before we can find shelter
How our intangible thoughts are invisible holograms that effect nothing 
Our father who art in heaven should we lose faith while we are on earth because there is plenty in heaven?
Will we make it the pearly gates with our infirm humanly wrongs and all the cavities punctured in our teeth
And speak to the guardians in low tones of how we praised the Creator on earth forgetting to mention how our own faults in the sweetened land He placed us in; have led us to corroded incisors
We consume more sweetened sin than soured heaven.
I cannot stare at my reflection in the mirror because I feel like a ghost
And legend has it that once the undead return they leave no shadow
They simply exist among other human humans
Who put status updates on their whatsapps saying ‘be still and know that I am God?’
It is easy to be transfixed in the same position when the walls around you are not caving in
I feel I have been saying much without saying anything,
Because maybe this conversation should just be between me and Him
But I do not know what to say to Him
My human human-ness has failed me once again
So maybe He could just look into my laden heart, desperate thoughts and fearful mind
And decide where I can go from here
Where they can go from here
Where we can go from here...
For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever
Amen.





Copyright © Danai Daisy | Year Posted 2014


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The Lay of The Best Man - Part 2

The Lay of The Best Man - Part Two


I will not understate my distaste, but I do not hate. I rate hate as being irate
Shall I underrate the spate of your hate as you devastate; leaving the ‘diva’ in a state?
You segregate, that’s active hate. I will not exterminate you,  rather, deactivate.
Given the way you operate, I will recalibrate, and recreate - without the hate.
Hate shall no more reverberate, instead let love reciprocate as you procreate
The late great man I delate; hate shall abate, come that great date of debate with fate.


Yes, I have seen the devastated diva in a state; heartbroken. …OMG, it’s hell.
From boy through to man, you inflict pain on the girl .…as you ‘kiss and tell’.
Be it emotional, be it physical, pain is still pain, you cantankerous dumbbell.
A burp is still a posh mouth-fart from belly swell - just as cankerous a smell.
Pretend to love; then ‘from hate to hurt’; you’ve charmed her with your spell
Your level of wickedness sure shocks my God - ‘Oh My Me’!!!….He’d yell.


Who will raise their hand in agreement that man is ‘lost in lust’?
How many shall concur that man’s law is just so unjust?
What will make you see that to bust a crime, proper retribution is a must?
Where is the jury? Are they not simply ‘pre-compost’ judging those that accost?
Do you believe that dust is the most useless thing on this Earth’s crust?
When then will you learn: we are nothing more than reconstituted dust!?!?


Understand man’s foolishness and disingenuousness 
Accuse him of childishness; watch him prove it, no less!
Criticise a character trait - just watch him rise to the bait
This thing called ‘pride’; his failing and his ultimate fate
Learn this lesson: Think that man ‘clever’, or think that man ‘thick’
He becomes a genius …when plotting a despicable ‘sick’.


Look at your husband, spouse or your life-mate, intended
Is he not simply your stalker - had you not consented?
Hand on heart. Yes, place hand on heart; deny his jealousy.
Deny his possessiveness ..and his accusations of ‘Floosie’
Many-a-woman has been stung into heart-wrenching realisation
You do not really know the man you call ‘spouse’? ....Take caution!!!


If you want to know the truth of your shortcomings, look in the mirror.
Alas, what you see is only part truth and there is a much greater horror
Because what you see is not what you see, but what you think you see
And what you think you see is what you want to see, better still, what you want to be.
You are a liar, a fraud and a hypocrite, in almost everything you do
Ask the blind man about you…he can actually see ‘you’ a whole lot better than you!


Oh yes. Hypocrisy!!! How you wallow in the murky mire that is ‘hypocrisy’
You criticise, ostracise then casually do the same - to shameful profligacy.
One law for you, one law for them. You can spit, they can’t. You’re averse
“After all, they swallow…don’t they? You say. That’s like spitting in reverse”
“I’ll mistreat the wife, but don’t you dare mistreat yours” …she’s my sister!”
“I’ll abuse and hurt her … get her a doctor; don’t you dare get a barrister”!


Yes most men can be loving, decent and kind
Most men can be honest - with a mild caring mind
Most men can be dependable, trusting and fair
Applying reason , meting out justice with admirable flair
Most men can be good, and that [really] is the truth
Sadly, it starts as a youth; Sadly, most are uncouth.


Look at the aggrieved victim retort ‘revenge is sweet’, as revenge is sought
He seeks life for a life, avenge, so deems his kangaroo court
Simple-minded moron celebrates his deed, a warped victory
Yet swift death is probably a blessing in a world of  vicious history.
Will you tell the celebrant he may have done the victim a favour, or shall I?
Because most caged killers would much rather die; like in ‘an eye for an eye’. 


Where is the discipline? You see; that is the flaw
Who is in charge? The Parents; the Teachers; or the Law?
Where is the punishment befitting a crime? …Doing real ‘time’.
Between justice and injustice  lies a laughable pantomime
Sadly, the Laws of Entropy relate to both motion and emotion.
Men always revert to type, a kind of reverse, perverse evolution.



Copyright © Robert Amure | Year Posted 2015


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If I Were A Boy

~~ooOO If I Were A Boy OOoo~~ If I were a boy, how cool that would be! I’d always have a friend ready to play with me Through boyhood to manhood I know he’d be there We’d play together always, happy to share. The cowboys won’t worry if the Indians attack I’d get out my weapon and fight them all back. The monsters would disappear from under the bed With my weapon in my hand, I’d strike them all dead. Girls they say are faster learning at school But with my weapon in my hand I’d show them I’m cool. Writing when I want; my letters nice and slow I’d even write my name into the white virgin snow. The life of a boy is all balls it seems, From baseball to football and cricket. With my weapon in my hand I’d knock every ball in Through the hoop, in the net and hit the wicket. As a man my friend would still be with me More controlled put away, and not accidentally. As a member now of the opposite gender, I’d be gifted with the power of childishness to remember. Where as girls grow soppy and want a boy to love them Boy’s grow strong, and want to go out with men. To swill pints of ale and make themselves sick But they count every pint as though some great trick. If I were a boy I’d take my pride in my hand I’d hit the highest point on the wall when I stand. I’d have the biggest, most powerful one ever My throw would be talked about and forgotten never. If I were a man I’d have huge shoulders, strong I would be. If I were a man I’d be the man that loves me. If I were an Olympian I‘d be the pride of the nation As you know well, every boy is gifted with A huge imagination.


Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012


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Love Again

Love again
And love after love
Ends in dissolution of joy
I pause, not for me,
Because of this much I am certain
And long winded Socrates cannot pull the curtain
Of logics down unless a fallacy is there
I found what he has proven in every tear
And smile bemused with dry eyes
For I shall always be as I know to be
And who I am I know for certain.

Love again
And love after love
People come laden with feelings
Confused about their identity
Hoping to be cuddled, kiss
Flattered, fawn at, frazzle your nerves with demand for attention
And after every tantrum and scream
Sit pouting to be caressed
For you to beg their forgiveness for their childishness
And lack of maturity.
I could say "grow up!"
But you cannot tickle, cajole, or command growth
It is the spontaneous fulfilment of identity
The ultimate goal of maturity.

Love again
And love after love 
Have failed, people withered without fruiting
For feeling is never enough
And keep changing like seasons, but without warning
The whole view of world falls in disarray
And I, desolate, alone, face this storm of disbelief
That God has no image left in the world,
But I
Knowing one more thing than Socrates
Thasoul

t love is a person, a being
So that love can only be the gift of self
The annihilation of individuality
The final becoming
Of the ultimate identitty. Every cohesion
And pelvic thrust is not the satisfaction until
Bone fuse with bone, and flesh with flesh
And God and man hold hands in one united soul.

Love again
And love after love
This approximation makes us vulnerable
Frightened 
For ego is the only sacrifice love accepts
And with every flight the ritual of lies begin
Strand after strand
The decomposition of the soul
Marriages marred, melted in mist of tears
I stay peculiar with the years
From the potter's hand
I am the image as I am.
 


Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012


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Beat Poets

He was a new poet with the dew of youth
on his cheeks and childishness in his words. 
He spoke of his God, of love, and of truth,
with a pony-tailed naïveté which implored.  
Bicycles pedal through his posies chords.
He smiled, when he spoke of A. Ginsberg, man ...
nicotine stained the fingers on his hand.
Thinking of the beat poets, Rexroth he'd read,
tales in smoke-rings round his brow like a garland.
Dean was resurrected in the **** of his head.

This new rooster was just twenty-four,
one earring, bow lips and shy of pretense;
he wrote in a leather-bound book of war.
Yet, he was all about peace, and innocence;
for the world, the world, held troubles immense.
A rebel of peace, so like Siddhartha
to war he'd not go, not follow father.
A poet primed a new man with a calling
trying once again to call each man brother;
scrying with blood to stop mankind's falling.


*Double Dizain



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012


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A Crown-Never a Nudnik

I woke up on a fresh Friday morning and introduced myself to a new day
A sweet smile stretched and a beautiful kiss of the wind lay on my cheek
Brushing my teeth and heading off to the kitchen for a delicious breakfast,
A visitor knocked on my cheek’s door
Kind and caring I was, for I welcomed him and opened my pink castle’s doors
An old visitor, it was, 
Beside him was a young man holding the old man like something dear
I invited both of them to the dining room where a long red carpet lay
and walls of pearls guarded my castle
My pink castle doors were strongly fastened; no air can survive

Coffee and tea were offered to the gentlemen in front of me
A sip from here and a gulp from there
Words began to mutter themselves out of the old man’s cave:
“Ab ovo, I am here with a wise gift to thee
I am here because it is time for thou to hold and protect thee wise
For it is a symbol of wisdom and not ignorance
It is a symbol of maturity and not childishness
Come my wise child, rise”

And so, the young man rose and approached towards me
In his hands was a parchment carved with beautiful scarlet ink
Vigilantly, I slowly opened it to read:
“Today, a wisdom tooth shall tear its way towards sunlight
For you, dear beholder, have become shrewd enough to be handed a crown
Never lose it, never leave it, never take it off
Never let anybody borrow it and never forget about it
Tonight, you shall feel pain, but you are strong
Hold on and don’t give up, for you shall behold a treasure”

Suddenly, a drift of whistling wind entered my castle
The visitors were gone, 
Pain stroke, but a wisdom tooth grew…


Copyright © Sara Zahed | Year Posted 2009


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Diamonds Of Tenderness

I was barricaded by destruction and liberated by loss….

.....there you were…

One stare at you has broken through my wretchedness and distress,
    one touch from you redirected my fierceness and turned off my loneliness.

I used to wake up in gloom and because of you I sleep in contentedness,
    your fire killed all my fumes and I keep walking inside your completeness.

After all my dreaded seasons I buried my demons in your kindliness,
    for all the wrong reasons I enjoyed my grievance within my consciousness.

My longing for your hunger resides in between your purity of liveliness,
    I used to have an appetite with lies and fearing routines towards my childishness.

Now I am reborn because you crave my desire within your attentiveness,
    I have sworn my fidelity turning my lonely sapphires into diamonds of tenderness.

Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: April 7, 2016


Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016


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Valerie

Valerie



It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room, mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine. At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates. 

The day was simply beautiful... There was a breeze cool enough to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine. I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon, some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank. We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing each other like two children at play. 

I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation. One hour later I picked her up. She looked enchanting! We drove out to Woodstock, home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family. There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget; the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of the setting sun. She stood there, speechless. I squeezed her hand as we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken. We were both grateful for the day we had spent together. It was just the two of us. And for a while, only those moments mattered.    


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016


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Black Silence

The song of the soul is not jazz
Lowliness crumbles beneath the bruised conscience
Its a new day but the world is still the same

Pajamas can create a riot when they are not washed
Dirt and disorderliness of the furniture can be really peaceful
But who would know that?
The unexplained-ness of the haywire life
one leads teaches the weary soul of the need
Of noise, more than harmony
Its like the unraveling of obscurity
When the whole world doesn't understand you,
You feel victorious
The destructive novelty blended with the
Stupendous childishness of ideas
Alienate...
Increasing the loneliness but helps in shaping up the mind:
Its like a strangler
Choking is pleasure when in an adventurous mood
And the zeal in discovering whats beyond logic
Puts imagination before facts

Yes, I'm dying
This time
I like it more than ever.


Copyright © Iman Roy | Year Posted 2010


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Fatherly Love

I look back and see...
Remember times spent crying on 
my knee
Your anger is my biggest fear,
Your words can bring me a tear.

As year started rushing by,
For you I'm no good though I try
You treated me just as bad,
And those times were so sad:-(

I grow up longing and seeking
For a fatherly love I'm lacking.
I search, hope to find someone
Who can love me just the way I 
am...

It's perhaps my biggest mistake
I just suffer pain and heartache!
My childishness caused me to 
stumble and fall...
But I've learned to carry on and 
stand tall!

And now I have my own family,
Living a simple life yet we're 
happy.
He's indeed a loving man, am so 
lucky
But still there's an emptiness 
inside of me...:-(

I wish I could bring back the days
To be a little girl to show you 
love in so many ways
Even if you didn't love me 
enough...
I promise to be here to make you 
laugh.

I regret for the times that flew,

I hope it's not too late to show...

I would never ask for anyone new.
Papa I love you and I do care for 
you...


Copyright © Sweet Angel | Year Posted 2014


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Valerie


...a true story


It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room, mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine. At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.

The day was simply beautiful... There was a breeze cool enough to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine. I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon, some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank. We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing each other like two children at play.

I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation... One hour later I picked her up. She looked enchanting... We drove out to Woodstock, home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family. There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget; the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of the setting sun. She stood there, speechless. I squeezed her hand as we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken. We were both grateful for the day we had spent together. It was just the two of us. And for a while, only that moment mattered.


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012


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My Angel,My World

    From her looks,
 to her nature,
    From her sense,
 to her nonsense,
I HAVE INHERITED EVERYTHING!


          From her silence,
    to her childishness,
          From her aptitude,
    to her creativity,
  SHE HAS GIVEN ME EVERYTHING!


    From my fears,
  to my strengths,
    From my tears,
  to my smiles,
 I SHARE EVERYTHING!


         LOVE-She's filled with,
      CARE- She always does,
         She's my Mum,
       MY ANGEL,MY WORLD!


Copyright © Roshni Sharma | Year Posted 2012


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HYPNOSIS MATA HARI

And apptitude conserves not fare
the blind assumption that all faith is share
from human standpoint's grimace and the stare
are insolent in doing, stealing, bare!

As childishness, a spirit roams the air
encapsulation effort ~ stunning care
and bringing to vexation conscience spare
controlling by suggestion, swinging dare!

This selfishness of reason, stupid swear
is not fine art's creation, thinking's prime
but as hypnosis, treason leads to blind
resumption of false following, hope resigned!

That pillage of surrender, sweetness mined
is that controlling freeze of truth's combine!



Copyright © Paula Larson | Year Posted 2012


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Love at its Peak

Our story is as timeless as everyone dreams
A near decade now it seems.
In thy absence, I may battle a kingdom of agony
Thou still the hidden joy in my every written poetry,

Inconceivable, everyone may have said,
Here our own frailties had it all perfected.
Few of our kin stay,
As most of them judge and then stray.

But you’re still here holding my hand.
Not just a lover but my friend until the very end.
You professed how I have changed you,
But isn’t the childishness inside me you outgrew?

Pour this life with an empire of bliss and fondness
With an entire submission of faith in its faultlessness,
Thy arms is my safe haven,
Will you say those words once again?

A promise worth to keep,
A never ending love at its peak,
I see you standing there and now I knew,
This life will lose its worth without you.


Copyright © Scarlet Zaire | Year Posted 2015


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THERE IS A U TURN

              
   

 Life is smooth-life is rude,
He stands today where yesterday you stood,
What is your today-will not be yours,
Successes are diseases-failures are the cures!

You were not as this when you were in foetus,
The buds give rise and slowly blooms the lotus,
And slowly you grew-you were born as an infant,
And again you grew-the lotus spread its scent!

Now you were a kid full of joy and life,
Everything was a game to you-you’re so innocent,
And slowly you matured-you owned responsibilities and a wife,
And at every step you changed-be it the kid or the infant!

Yesterday you looked up to your father, now you were one too,
Icy fangs blow during the winters but summers kiss the Loo,
He who was once a kid-now himself has a kid,
For every change in life yourself you sow the seed!

Now you seem to understand what you never paid heed to,
You start believing that the Bible and  Kuran are really true,
And the second childishness returns when you grow old,
The amazing turn of fate-your kid will now be strong and bold,
And gradually the lotus will rise and fall again,
There will again be winter, summer and the rain!

So a keen observer wishes you to learn,
At every step our lives take a u turn,
For human life is an oblivious compact of stairs,
Where ‘all men and women merely players’,
The truth’ll never be known-hidden beneath the layers!

And every day you live-you’re drilling into the reality,
Slowly you’re getting closer but in the end you’ll see,
There is no truth-no reality-life itself is a lie,
You pass into nothingness-out of the cage, the bird’ll fly!!

                                                                                       


Copyright © saket suman | Year Posted 2011


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Valerie

...a true story


It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room, mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine. At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.

The day was simply beautiful... There was a breeze cool enough to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine. I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon, some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank. We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing each other like two children at play.

I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation... One hour later I picked her up. She looked enchanting... We drove out to Woodstock, home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family. There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget; the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of the setting sun. She stood there, speechless. I squeezed her hand as we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken. We were both grateful for the day we had spent together. It was just the two of us. And for a while, only that moment mattered.


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016


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A Fiery Dragon

Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
Yes, one of my many talents I didn't know I 
Possessed. I will not be impolite. It's standing
There in all its fiery splendor talking from the 
Other side of the fence illuminating the 
Darkness.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and 
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
Would you say your bigger than a mastodon?
I must be under a spell. Where is the sorceress?
Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
When you use your imagination John
Anything is possible and it is bottomless.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and 
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
Do you eat tarragon?
We are making progress.
Grandma! Your talking to a fiery dragon.
I wave my hand and said Soon all this will be
Gone
Back to lifelessness.
I'm honored to finally have met, seen, and 
Talked to an incredible phenomenon.
A bonfire gave me the key to once upon.
My grandson is still talking about my 
Childishness.
My grandma talked to a fiery dragon.
She was honored to have met, seen, and 
Talked to such an incredible phenomenon.




Copyright © Bette Bavington | Year Posted 2018


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Childhood Poems

I leaf through a notebook,
re-reading old poems.
I cringe at the childishness,
the bare, colliding words.
"Unsalvageable",
 I think to myself.
Better to bury them quickly,
before they try to get out.
New poems must be written;
the old cannot be saved.
Or can they?
Can I perhaps rework them,
reshape them into something new?
Could better poems be created,
if old poems are revived?


Copyright © Karlin K. Jensen | Year Posted 2012


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I Love You

I love your grumpiness
I love your mood swings
I love your stubbornness
I love your voice when you sing
I love the way your silence is killing me
I love the way your rants are giving me chills
I love how you scolded me when you're mad
I love how your face looks like when you're pissed
I love it when you're keeping up with my childishness
I love it when you're clenching your fist out of anger
I love it when you told me about your likes
I love it when you told me about your dislikes
I love it when you told me about your story
I love how you kissed me
I love how you hugged me
I love how you carried me
I love how you caressed me
I love it when you ignore me
I love how it hurts
I love it that I miss you
I love it that I love you
I love you.


Copyright © Jeanne Mae Paig | Year Posted 2016


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Valerie



It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room, mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine. At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates. 

The day was simply beautiful... There was a breeze cool enough to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine. I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon, some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank. We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing each other like two children at play. 

I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation. One hour later I picked her up. She looked enchanting! We drove out to Woodstock, home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family. There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget; the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of the setting sun. She stood there, speechless. I squeezed her hand as we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken. We were both grateful for the day we had spent together. It was just the two of us. And for a while, only those moments mattered.    


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016


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Dreams Anew

A breath of awe, sublime radiant blue,
blessings of hands, a golden heirloom ring. 
Young lovers readying for dreams anew
on blooming love, loose streams, and songs of spring.

Angels greet youth bashful feet, a spark of
hunger and thirst for a future journey. 
Amber sunset rise to lovers in love, 
together taking time with no worries.

They watch hand in hand a peach horizon 
stream through flickering limbs and window shades. 
Embrace, kiss, song, a dance to its rising
time slowly says good-bye, but never fades.

Seems like it was yesterday's childishness,
a narrative passage of timelessness.

6/24/2017


Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2017


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The Alarming Voice of A Nameless Mystic

Dear ladies and gentlemen!
You're  born on this Earth
For leading your entire life
That could be defined 
Simply in a few words as
‘Merely childish’

You all have managed to learn
A kind of an artificial voice
That doesn’t connect you 
With your inner hearts: 
You’re all heartless toys!

You live with your ugly fashion
Wearing jeans with torn patches
Half-a feet high chappals
And all your artificial body scents:
The ultimate childishness
On all the planets and the suns!

You strictly follow your silliest ideas
About anything and everything
On all matters, on all things: 
They're aimed at a big 'BEGGING':
Begging for love, begging for money,
Begging for fame, begging for sex...
And what not?

Have you ever heard 
Your own inner voice?

Have you ever sought
The precious help of 
Your inner conscience?

Nay, 
You've knowingly avoided 
The voice of your heart
And hide it underneath
The dark corners 
Of your satanic mind


My dear ‘grown-up children’!

Get ready now
To suffer the consequences
Of this kind of ugly life
With all your artificialities
And all your wisdom-less
Superfluous notions and ideas

An exact judgment is 
Awaiting you, for sure,
With all its powerful 
Ways and means
To constantly beat you to death
Until you're awakened 
To a simple truth: 

"Listen to your 
Heart’s voice
Throwing away 
All your artificialities
You’ve indulged in 
For too long a time"




Copyright © Kasinathan Muthuramalingam | Year Posted 2016