Freedom Childhood Poems | Examples
These Freedom Childhood poems are examples of Childhood poems about Freedom. These are the best examples of Childhood Freedom poems written by international poets.
Mum used to cater
my every whim.
I was really spoilt
like a large catch of tuna
in the police station.
The local children were cautioned
against talking
to strangers about me.
That was why
I became celestial canopy
in the neighbourhood.
Finding your lost mittens in the school’s lost and found.
Playing with some puppies as they run and jump around.
Happiness on your first day at school in your new dress.
Your favorite swing when the bell rang for recess.
Thinking upon these things, a smile comes to your face.
When just before the ball got there, you reached first base.
Each one brought joy to your life, in its very own way.
Your experiences were exciting, each day.
It’s the life of a children engrossed in the folly,
Like the time you went downtown and rode the trolley.
Or sitting under a tree, your mind running free.
Thinking of places you’d go and all you would see.
You were always looking for a new place to go,
And every experience would help you to grow.
Eyes drifting
In waiting,
Silently,
Gazing
In vain,
Despite it,
He enlarged them
Widely opened, as if
Searched for something interesting,
Very
Carefully,
Silently,
Like a lazy bear, he put it on the old wooden table.
Carefully,
refolding
his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
stripping
Carefully,
a tinny piece,
rolling himself,
In still noise
a cigarette of
Powerful
low-graded
rustika,
a variety of
great purge
hunger
killing
good reason,
One pack a day
It helped, like hell
Helped.
It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
starved,
Makhorka,
insecticide
of freedom.
Silently,
Looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Carefully,
Silently.
FLYING SWINGS*
Flying swings,
Built on the thrill of gravity’s gentle hand,
Lift us up, strange birds
Into the turning sky
Where joy sways with the breeze,
Childhood's dance suspended in the air.
Hands raised high,
We chase the cloud-choked horizons
Each swing weaving stories,
Where freedom tastes like cotton candy,
A dash of courage,
In every soaring arc.
For just a while,
The earth holds its breath,
And we are weightless, drifting
Lost in the echo of shouts and bells,
The world below a mere blur—
In the carnival's embrace
We learn to fly.
*This poem was featured and published on Writer Monk’s Facebook page in July 2025. This is my original poem.
I loved my childhood summers
In the mountains, where we stayed
In a small, one-bedroom bungalow
Where memories were made.
We didn’t mind the lack of space;
Outside were fields of grass
With lots of friends to hang with -
Oh, how quickly time did pass!
In day camp we had arts and crafts;
We swam and ran around
And played on teams in every sport
Where balls or nets were found.
Specifics now have vanished
From the cells inside my brain,
But the happy feelings overall
Still powerfully remain.
We had such freedom then as kids;
Our days belonged to us.
So when our moms yelled, “Suppertime!”
We bounded home, no fuss.
The youth today, on hearing this,
Would not know what I mean,
For summers now are supervised
Or spent before a screen.
Let’s get this show on the road,
The car's still empty and we can't seem to load
Susie's applying makeup, Jake’s playing video games,
Mary’s scrolling her socials, where friends call her names.
I want to get to the airport, I want to be
clambering into an Impressionist painting of the sea
Ride the chestnut ponies, get back to something real,
My kids are in a rabbit hole, they forgot how life can feel.
(Chorus)
We're on an oven burner, like a doomed toad—
So let’s get out of here, get this show on the road,
We'll ride wild ponies, neighing by the sea.
We'll go back to living, we'll go back to free.
It helps sometimes to leave a comfort zone,
Children connected to the whole world, but to me they seem alone.
The old ways had their wisdom, and a simpler moral code,
Let’s flip this circus upside down; get this show back on the road.
It is a weird one,
To keep gracing distant sun...
While moon could bail fun.
Dry lips are so tight,
To put words up at such sight
Daring distant fright.
While principles flow...
Yet couldn't keep deeds off blow,
In reality's show.
Why not dare decide,
One your past truly confide
Shouldn't be denied?
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.
remember when we
slept ><
on the
beach ^^^^^
listening to the
w v s a e w v s
a e w v s a e
rock us to
z
z
z
z
sleep?
When I was a terrorized, tortured, petrified child,
I would look up-
into the vast, clear blue, empty space,
and wish I were a bird.
To spread my wings, rise beyond reach,
dip through clouds like whispers,
ride the blustery winds,
and after the rain-
chase the ribbons of color
that arc across the sky,
just out of curiosity.
By night, I would perch
on treetops unknown,
watching the silver moon grin
as stars winked their silent promises.
Now, as an adult,
I wish I were a fish.
Not to witness the wicked antics of madmen.
Not to hear the echoes of cruelty.
I would swim deep,
where the sea cradles its secrets,
among coral cathedrals,
through forests of drifting light.
I would not need gills,
I would not need breath—
I would hold it,
until men learn to be kind.
And at night, I would rest
on the ocean bed,
where even the waves whisper softly,
where silence is sacred,
where the world above
cannot follow.
what if what we had was temporary
a momentary glance of happiness
of freedom
of joy
of reckless youth
a time of love and carelessness
maybe that was where our memory is supposed to stay
maybe it wasn’t meant to continue on into this decade.
Maybe the sun never rose up again after it set that summer.
She used to think she could fly, she would jump off the couch and it seemed so high. She lost sense of the air but her childhood could not compare.
She went to Saturn instead where she had freedom that was self-led, so more worries no more excuses, no more waiting for a savior to tell her reality is gone.
She took the world into her own hands, she used to think she could fly, she figured out soon it was all planned out so to Saturn she wondered about, she skated from one ring to the other.
Better than the life she knew, but frankly she didn’t have a clue, didn't know wrong from right all she knew is that her life was taking flight.
She felt as if everything she was used to had been washed away and she couldn’t have been in more of a mixture of disbelief and array, a satisfaction that blew her away.
She pondered the stars and this was her newest adventure by far.
I am adopted and a single child
having a stammer since pre-school
I also loved soccer to play and watch
at 12, I got to go to my first game, real cool!
This was fab to go on my own
for the very first time just me
a real sense of freedom I stood there
on the terrace standing tall as a tree
That was the first of many games
throughout lots of years
many victories among many defeats
the atmosphere and thrill tingle my ears
Looking back now to a special memory
that first day lies special in my heart
feeling that sense of security but free
this was to mould me in no small part
That day prepared me for future life
whatever struggles of life would face
the grounding I made then framed me
to lift myself over every hilltop without a trace
When I was a kid, about ten,
Living in a very small town,
The streets were all gravel,
And I was free until sundown.
I would leave the house each day,
Ride my bike to get my friend,
And we would race across town,
All four blocks from end to end.
The only places we went
Were the park or the little store.
We got two pieces of gum
For a quarter, sometimes more.
Pedaling like hell to get away,
We were outlaws on the run.
The park only had two swings,
But those monkey bars were fun.
We'd go home when hungry,
Eat, then be back out the door.
That big taste of freedom
In that small town we'd explore.
Never once was there a worry
Until the sun started to fade.
When the street light came on,
My curfew had been made.
I'd tell my buddy goodbye
And make my way back home.
A little kid who felt grown
In that tiny town I'd roam.
fruit
we sway in the wind
but i grasp the air
in hopes it can sweep me from this branch
this branch-
preserving the purity of my skin-
is forced to let me fall
i rip from the loosening grip of my cluster
a wound on my side-
evidence of a new chance-
gifted by violent departure
i feel the air on my palms
i smash into the ground
mud covers my face.
i gaze up to the branch-
my past shimmers in the glaring sun.
a blue bird flies overhead
her beauty exerts itself effortlessly over my grime.
she parades her freedom
as the mud hardens under the kiln of the sun
i signal to the bird.
recognizing my flare, she glides to my side
and picks me apart
as i lay here-
opened up to this beast-
i listen to her speak
her tongue mumbles a foreign language
one that doesnt wish things away
a language learned from experiences
observed in her fulfilled juvenility
when all that is left
is the muddy skin on my back,
i sink into the earth
decaying for more time than i ever spent on a branch
why would i ever
excuse myself from youth to preserve my expiration?
i forfeit my experience then,
to gain a lonely breath here