Best Inner Child Poems
I don't want to be your sister
I don't want to be your mother
I don't want to be your wife
nor your mistress or a lover
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Sucking on your needless thoughts
Playing hopscotch in your mind
Building castles in your hand
take your footseps above the sand
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Your burnt sugar,Crystallize
Pour it across your sterile smile
till it sparkles in your eyes
Make you play games
grownups wish but never do
'Hide and seek,Catch-you're it
Pillow-fights, and Mr. Who'
I want to be the child
you birth on a wombless night
Make you soar where the winds blow
Reach the kite within your soul
I would camp inside your heart
Let our rhytmic beats impart
I would breathe inside your life
Bring the sun,and end your strife
I want to be the one
I want to be the inner child
which kiss your lips with bliss
and in your joys,reside
Everyone has an
inner child
My inner child
Is apart of me
When it is quiet
I hear hew speaking
Sometimes she will cry
I do not know why
Why she feels this way
Only she knows why
She could be happy
That is rare for her
I would speak to her
Finding her reason
When she feels so sad
I listen when she chats
Then add my opinion
Sometimes she feels better
Or she feels too sad
Just for a while
Then she feels stronger
I understand her
How she is feeling
She is apart of me
My inner child
Will always speak out
Whether she is sad
Or she is happy
I know her feelings
I chance upon her
in the far reaches of the backyard,
a place I never go. There she trembles.
A tiny tiger, whose newborn eyes blur the world,
secreted in mother-scented-shadows
below blackthorn shrubs.
Faint mews draw me closer.
The power of her vulnerability
fills my veins with a ripple rising,
brimming me with a nectar needed,
like a dry stream bed restored by remedy rains.
How helpless she is with new eyes open.
Her eyes like skylights — clear
and filled with new-wild-blue innocence.
Neglected yet beautiful, I sense in her
the familiar phenomenon of the impulse to pulse.
Her outsized feistiness belying
such a petite package of plea and need
with teeny needle claws and barely a wisp of a hiss
...and I recall when I felt the fear
of being small and voiceless in a choiceless world.
Born a feral kitten, her mother likely lost
to speed-wheels of a car or snap-jaws of coyotes,
whose throats float steaming howls above black
saw-toothed pines to haunt the long night moon
...and I wonder, if she wonders,
if the sweet-milk-purrs with soft belly fur
will ever return to snuggle her.
She’s been cold and alone for far too long.
So I gather her in the hug of my hands
warming her as I draw her in and curl
my chest around her littleness.
A shield formed against her lone-ness.
...and I, a long-ago-child abandoned,
a child whose silent cries heard only by stoic walls,
reclaims a voice that helps me make a choice
not to let Nature decide how birth and fate collide.
So I sit with her, swaddle her, love her.
Nourish her with eye-dropper milk where
hearth embers still glow after the fire,
to heal the orphan and raise the phoenix within.
I ride the vibrant crests
Of a tangerine moon
Glowing across stardust ridges
Where inspiration tickles
My heart with laughing dewdrops
I drift on the edge of a smiling
Emerald forest filled with
Whispery pines and strong oaks
All the trees remind me why
The birds make a home on branches
With their bristling, dancing leaves
I walk through a thriving garden
Alive with scarlet and cobalt
Rare colors in the choiciest purples
Mauves, sunset yellow and lavender
Hastening to create a sweet fantasy
I breathe in the crisp, cool air
Of an autumn night, a summer light
Feeling the freedom of a heart
Gentle and warm, feeling forlorn
For the tender caress of rainfall
Caressing my shoulders lightly
I kiss the silence with hope
For moments poured full of joy
While my heart whispers
Recklessly thrilling in the vitality
Of a dream that fulfills me
I ache for these days of simplicity
When light plays with the shadows
Echoing through the longings
With cries resembling poetry
Lingering on the edge of sanity
I dream, I imagine, I praise
With a prayer of faith
Believing in the God who reigns
High above my thoughts
In a heaven where I will hope
Love continues to abide, eternally
Inner Child Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
September 1, 2021
Deep night-
In its quiver,
I write.
Perused-
Subconscious yields,
True muse
Child’s Zen
Speaking softly…
From when.
David Mohn
WHISPERS OF A MUSE - Poetry Contest
24 Nov 2014
A bad man came
when I was four
he did bad things
I couldn't find
the door
A bad man came
when I was fourty one
this time he came
with a mask and gun
FLASH BACKS! FLASH BACKS!
hells run a ground
stay calm, stay cool,
grandmas' spirit is a round
I am older now -
his wrath will save us both
his crime exposed with
my promise, and your oath
I enjoy silly and playful
Freeing my inner child
With a dash of naughty and cheeky
My inner child runs happily wild
I enjoy the escape of laughter
An escape and freedom from ones own mind
Laughter and fun allows one
To leave stress and woes behind
I enjoy being a trickster
A little nuts and a crackpot
A looney and somewhat bonkers
“Unhappy though….that l am not“!!
My inner child I oftentimes let show.
“She” likes me using spontaneity.
When my inhibitions I let go,
a litte bit audacious I can be.
In ESL, I act out words with ease.
My inner child I oftentimes let show.
In front of students, on my hands and knees
I’ve demonstrated push-ups from high to low!
At sixty-six on water slides I’ll go.
My grandkids were surprised when I did zip line.
My inner child I oftentimes let show.
The rides at carnivals I fine divine!
Giggling or guffawing, I love to laugh.
Short skirts I'll wear, and long my hair does grow.
I don’t even mind if I make a gaffe.
My inner child I oftentimes let show.
Sept. 4, 2021
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's Your Inner Child Poetry Contest
The Instant
As we age our way
On into the sunset
There is much yet to do
We reflect on our own paths
And the people we have met,
The things we have experienced,
The places we have been,
And those we have love,
And those we have lost
Some have crossed over
That bridge that awaits
Our arrival . . .
Some have just chosen
To go a different way . . .
Yet in truth,
All of these reflections
Are what has contributed
To what we see ourselves as . . .
Today
The remaining question
That lies before us,
Has much to do with
These things,
But at the same time . . .
Very little
Legacy perhaps
Will be what we are ultimately
Judged for
Who are you,
What did you contribute
To the good of the whole . . .
Did you see your self
As a soul apart,
Or as a soul a part of ?
The greatest judgment
We will ever face,
Is that of our own
Truth of Self
Lingers at the corners
Of our consciousness . . .
Will you walk down the street
In your ‘Now’
And meet your potential,
Or will you continue
To attempt to avoid
The inevitable ?
Who knows the time
When we will be in a moment
Transported
To that bridge
That must be crossed . . .
Aging our way
Is not always
The way we may go . . .
Some times it comes
In but an instant
© 12 january 2019 : william s. peters, sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
When I, like an old professor, scoff all to shape;
My inner child scratches me within, like an ape.
I laugh aloud forgetting all belittling ills;
He says, I'm a hyena, and thus my zeal kills.
I cry and he says you're a soft sensitive girl;
And my emotional eruption gets a curl.
I lay peaceful wanting to have 'Kumbkarna' sleep;
He laughs at me and says, sleep has nothing to keep.
When I, like Buddha, go to the 'Bodhi' he says;
Any tree is 'Bodhi' if you're in Buddha's ways.
Each work he criticizes yet he's not ill-willed,
It's because he's my true and only inner child.
My child is critical yet so objective too,
He is, to his conscience, always honest and true.
It's he, yet, my life, like a judge, evaluates;
Owing to him, as the sun, my life operates.
Times might change; years become eras; life designs all;
The child in me, like the polestar, directs my call.
N.B:
1. Kumbkarna is an Indian mythical figure who slept for six months continuously every year and slept again once his appetite went down.
2. Bodhi is the holy fig tree under which Gautam Buddha received enlightenment.
9 September 2021
Your Inner Child Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
I close my eyes and hug my inner child
the purest form of me
When things go wrong and not to plan
she is my closest confidant.
I treat her well this inner child
Who holds my hand from six to seventy-five
Though I am tall and she is small
We fit well together through it all.
I help her along to sing that song
That makes me want to sing along
I treat her to an ice-cream stick
Her favourite one she likes to lick
As night time falls now together
The curtain falls, we hug each other
and fall asleep, to dream of Kings
who slay the demons in our sleep
I set her free this inner me
To walk in rain and climb up hills
To swing free and land gently
She is the inner child in me.
30.08.2020
come find me please
i need to be heard
i need to be loved for who i am
take care of me - i need nurturing
look after me as i spread my wings
i’m sorry i’m here i hear you
be yourself and never change
never lose track of your dreams
your zest for life is your edge
explore and enjoy
it’s what life is all about
don’t give up on me
i can be better
i love you just the way you are
always and forever
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Chasing your tail forever like a dog
Into the forest, confusion of the fog
A door that’s locked, without a key
Asleep you found it, woke not to be
Where is this tail, where did it go?
Pondering on my knees, to and fro
As a young lad, kept in my pocket
Never will leave, stuck like a locket
Trying to hold on, losing a tight grip
Some just let go, abandon the ship
Children don’t seek it, too abundant
Adults will tell you, it can be funded
Look at children, exuding it affably
As you age, begins to fade rapidly
Replaced with things, can’t add up
Shows in spurts, then soon erupts
That impalpable tail, where’d it go?
Ask a child, even they don’t know
Innocence of fooling as a wee one
Priceless, like the shine of the sun.
When conflicts raise its ugly head real soon,
our nations won’t inevitably swoon;
a time that real détente and peace attune.
Some people still record the slights most ever stored.
Thus escalate discord, their armies can’t be bored.
But bearing painful past in mind, endowed
ensuing loss with angst, so many bowed
with hidden resentment and furrow browed.
In corners hide the past, persistent ghosts which last.
The indiscretions vast: those overboard and fast.
It shan’t depend on inner child if strewn:
‘To never stand against the wisdom roared.’
Do kowtow when rambunctious children vow
t’ ensure revolt replaced by great repast.
My child I cry when I see you,
your face just points to the wall.
My emotional senses feel you,
Do you now hear my call?
The abuse you suffered when younger,
is past, it's over and gone.
Please forgive the people who hurt you,
Come to terms with all that was wrong.
It was Ok to have felt unhappy,
It was then that you traveled alone.
But now you've grown much older,
you're the best person I have ever known.
Awaken the mind that is within you,
be at peace in your world, that is 'Now',
I know I don't have all the answers,
I can only advise on the how.
Your journey now begins with a footstep,
the way will be hilly, quite tough,
But go this way, be happy,
content you go with my love.