Childhood Poems | Examples of Childhood Poetry

Cat was very nice to mice: If asked for cheese, replied, how big a slice?~ My honor to please! -- Was also fond of backyard birds: Wonderful! Marvelous!~ his admiring words. Now dog, was a bit more ornery... he barked a lot, even at the laundry -- protector of all, in that way true~ a tinted greyhound, who answered to Blue --...

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Beneath the sky’s deep purple hue, Music calls, the laughter too; Wheels turn slow, the lights all spin, And pull us gently further in. The air smells sweet with candy threads, With buttered corn and warm baked breads; A carousel of painted dreams, It ripples on the moonlit streams. I watch your eyes in neon glow, They shine in ways you may not know; The...

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I sometimes feel like the razor sharp of a bean tins'e edge may one-day be my best friend, I hate to feel like my venom, can only be drained away as I sleep well past Mid-day. I hate the sight of red, but its not instantaneously, I lose so much as I bleed, Its taking like a fasting, I don't wish for pro-longed of another sad...

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Chakpii! Wooo! ! ! We have gathered On grandfather’s stoneseats After a hurried meal, This moonlight... Assemble, children, and hearken To the tales we know And heard from Our fathers... Chakpii! Wooo! ! ! Oruru otu mgbe (Once Upon a Time) The full moon, naked as birth, stood. The silent leaves of mother forests Listened; All sternness loosened In the face of the moon... Conundrums, Pulses, Quizzes, Proverbs... A parched and famished ground once, Now elated with Grown ears;...

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… DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! DRINNNNN!!! … ****: “Pronto?”. *****: “*-***?”. TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU… … ...

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Once, an aged fisherman was heard to speak from a boat on the shore of Chesapeake Bay. His voice, like every bone and plank that did creak, (as the ocean waves came in to splash and spray) about a creature, singular and unique, "'twas eighty-seven years ago to the day. When I was just up to a grasshopper's knee I...

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The hollow remains unphotographed. Memory, not landscape, frames it— a road cleaving winter in two, children laughing while gravity negotiated its own terms. Neighbors spoke without flourish. Their kindness was practical, never advertised, always assumed. You could leave your grief on the porch overnight; someone would tuck it in and leave bread beside it by morning. Coal knew every surname but never asked for praise. It shaped the valley, not into...

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ROSE-COLORED GLASSES “When you think about a show that you used to watch as a kid or as a teenager, you look at it through sort of rose-colored glasses…”Jordana Brewster ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In memory’s soft glow, the TV screen flickers alive, time stretches like taffy, the theme song lingers, a melody transporting me through the portal of childhood. The laughter of a...

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We ate the windfall Jillie Bulson and me Wandering the orchard From tree to tree Apples and pears Plums and cherries Then the kitchen garden To top up on berries. Constitutions like iron We gorged our fill And never ever once Were we ever ill. The Orchard still stands, Jillie sadly recently gone. Our childhood friendship In memory lingers on, Still eating the windfall, Jillie Bulson and me, Wandering the orchard From tree to...

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… Lassù, ove si perdono i cieli. Vetta… Elevata… Ai tuoi piedi, GUERRA! Disputata. Miseri esseri tentano, tentennano, precipitano su nuda terra insanguinata. Lassù, ove non s’ode suono. Vetta… Elevata… Dea. PAURA del vuoto! Terrorizzata dallo stuolo di belve fameliche che l’attende al suolo. … ...

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cold floor, presses into my bones whispering its time for this color to go today, i want her back so into my wounds seep the chemicals that i used to destroy myself, hoping you'd see her too pushing down into me, this was never how you saw me not until now how happy it'd make her to know that i lost track but how sad she'd be, if...

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He’s someone she once knew. He’s the reason she loves the rain and why she finds herself always waiting for the next storm. The bigger the storm, the more she remembers, sitting on the back porch at Angel Ave, wrapped in his arms. He always made her feel safe during the loud cracks of thunder. The...

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… Svariate forme assume, fa sempre male: causa morte. Abituale. … ...

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I am my father’s daughter — quiet when it matters, loud when it doesn’t, loyal like a bruise that never fades. He was a man of few words and too many beers, a homebody with calloused hands who built his love from paychecks, plywood, and patched fences. He didn’t say much, but he never let us go without. We all worked with him — held tools before...

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… Ciechi per la troppa oscurità. Ciechi per il troppo bagliore. … La luce non era mai esistita. E adesso… la sua improvvisa e intensa presenza non mi rincuora. … ...

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