Childhood Poems | Examples of Childhood Poetry

When the lines are blurred How can we tell who we are anymore How do we know when innocence begins and when it ends Or if it ever really happened At all This was not everyone's experience But it was black children's For a black boy who had to be a man Before he could be a child...

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The sweet breeze making the tree limbs sway brings the scent of pine tonight. Drunken, two bunnies gracefully play in the gentle glow of the firefly night. The painted sky begins to fade and the stars are becoming bright. The sky is now dark blue suede, in the gentle glow of the firefly night. The...

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My hair is wild, as wild as can be. It sticks out in all sorts of places, It goes through many fits and stages, You can’t imagine the myriad of gazes! I have curls to a large degree. They won’t listen to my plea. My hair demands to be free....

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c a c k e d pavement and chalk, o c c h s o f a d e s in the rain p ...

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Home, home is a place where you're supposed to feel loved and safe. A place where you can go to get away. When you struggle throughout your day you know you can go and not feel like a castaway. Home, not everyone has one of those.I didn't growing up. I had drug addicts and people who didn’t care...

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Home, home is a place where you're supposed to feel loved and safe. A place where you can go to get away. When you struggle throughout your day you know you can go and not feel like a castaway. Home, not everyone has one of those.I didn't growing up. I had drug addicts and people who didn’t care...

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I am poor but still want more. I get a job but still want more. I go to parties but still want more. I buy everything but still want more. I try a hobby but still want more. I raise a family and don’t need more anymore....

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When I was four, I hadn't thought life a bore, As I was free to play, until one very day, I learned someday we all go out that door, One by one, "It was fun," I know I'll say. When I was 6, I was reminded of this crucifix: As I was trying to sleep, I began to seize, It was...

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In the shadowed corners of my thoughts, In a whisper, ...

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Some idiot flicked off my switch, now I'm lit to cold eyes of blinded this doggie with the waggly tail, at least a best friend as I sail. What's a dateline to what's fine, how every blinded sees with wine and how they dine in my eyes and the lies upon my father dies. I wish, I had more to give, than once this...

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Please play a song for me Jan, in flashback A song that brings lovely memories back I well remember days from long ago How we adored our musical maestro. We'd stand round the piano as you played Mesmerised by the sounds your fingers made And here you are many decades gone by Tickling the ivories, and still we sigh....

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“Childhood hides in the niche of mind with fossilized fantasy”- By Poet The yonder blue hills from the hazy horizon cascaded gently down the alluring landscape, carving the contours of the charming hamlet, where my endearing home was once cradled. The pristine panorama of climbing clouds slid silently across the...

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Reality...

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I used to ride the train from school to home and back, every other weekend, in an old Pullman car built in the nineteen-thirties. It smelled like my grandma’s house— a little musty, like time had curled up and fallen asleep in the cushions. Too warm, always, but the clickety-clack over tie bars and rail frogs lulled me to sleep, rocking me gently as if the...

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I’m on your lap in a photo I no longer have— a toddler with a borrowed brush, my hand caught mid-daub on your canvas. It was staged, of course— your painting for a calendar on the easel in front of us like the month you gave me a tool of your craft and I mistook it for permission— but my brush didn’t paint like yours. Sometimes I wonder if you...

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