MUD
water
mixed with dirt
in early childhood
on my knees happily
I formed mud pies with my hand
“the outdoors was my first kitchen”
Categories:
early childhood, childhood,
Form: Free verse
since early childhood
since the early beginning
August is hot month
holiday season
no school playing traveling
I love August month
winter southern hemisphere
name to honor Augustus
Categories:
early childhood, august,
Form: Other
My early childhood was great, I was the first born.
My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember
spending lots of time with my doting grandmother
who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write.
I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention.
Creativity was a game to me and I learned to value time.
When I was nine, we moved far away and life changed overnight.
I was really lucky to land a grade 5 teacher who guided me
to learn english at an accelerated rate. I was a good student.
I've always been particularly thankful to both, teacher and grandmother.
they truly helped mold me into the person I turned out to be.
Categories:
early childhood, appreciation, child, childhood, grandmother,
Form: Free verse
Who I am, Lord?
You know me more than I know me
for You see and understand the part or
side of me, I do not.
I was nurtured with love, attentive care in my
early childhood by Mommy, the aunt who raised me,
grandparents and other aunts and
their support laid the foundation of my being.
I was six, when
my parents and two brothers came
to live with us and I discerned that not
everyone will like you
and life is unfair through Mama, my own mother.
She was cold, distant and did not care about me.
Never understood why, but learned
to accept to respect and obey my mother.
Categories:
early childhood, character, faith, me,
Form: Verse
i’m here, nor there, sometimes everywhere
a storm brewing
inside i’m darker
i’ve sailed these seas before
repetition becomes habit
take me back to simpler times
an early childhood memory
just one day when i didn’t allow myself to be consumed
by ruminating
i collect my thoughts
after time i realize the tea is hot, and it makes me anxious
and that i’m really just a hoarder
a collector knows what she likes to collect
to hold onto what’s fallen behind you can kill you
i don’t want to be stuck, but how does one move forward?
some days i wonder why i envy the pretty sunflowers
to be authentic is a destination
the shadow self wants to dance
the land though the wardrobe
i’d like to see it one day
I’ve stopped caring if the world likes me
with age comes a ‘no ****'s given’ attitude
red mohawk
punk rocker girl i don’t think about you too much
try hard, or don’t try at all
either way, the end is coming
Categories:
early childhood, age, angst, anxiety, dark,
Form: Free verse
A small childish event
slips through an unguarded moment once more,
then a teenage grudge nudges my ego
demanding some resolution.
Big Foot is tearing up the woods.
The interstellar aliens want us all to relax,
to be a be-ing – just a being
not a human doing. No,
we are human beings -
there’s nothing to do.
No fights are worth doing-over, just let it happen,
don't define 'it'.
besides ‘doing’ gives the Universe a headache
you brought upon yourself
back in the early childhood event days.
Let the crap go;
like water it will flow along
the line of least resistance,
then it all ends at the bottom
of a peak you never needed
to climb anyway.
Make a billion dollars,
build that bridge, damn or barn,
let imagination put its hard hat on
and go to work.
Then cut the yellow ribbon and grin.
If it's fun it's done.
When the Master said
we could move mountains
he meant let the mountain move to you -
allow it. He did not mean
start shoveling – that would be dumb.
Bigfoot has left for the Florida Keys
he needs a little rest
from being a doer, forever in training
for his next bloodcurdling howl.
Categories:
early childhood, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Reverting to an early childhood spell,
when rainbows had this fascination for me,
and still do much to my delight,
wonder in the skyline boondocks,
hoop of lavish colour one can dream of,
fantasy afloat on sunlit cloud,
imagining another world so bright,
alphabet not needed when budding minds glisten,
to chase that buoyant marvel,
even on a lax afternoon,
is that ultimate peach exploit we cherish,
especially for those who fancy stimulus,
pot of gold prospect never seen but might appear,
band of chalk-spun phantom’s mirror bend,
wizard plait that spur to haunting pigment,
madrigal for pearl-eyed infant haiku,
or maybe tanka, pantoum, verse
on fabulous enthralling pen craft
Arc of hues celeste
weave dreams for starry-eyed who
crave earthling peak bliss
Categories:
early childhood, art, beautiful, beauty, care,
Form: Haibun
The first language that you learn
when you are a baby.
Rather than a language learned
at school or an adult.
The language which a person has grown up
speaking from early childhood.
Persons's local language.... That is,
a language learned from birth.
Also called a first language,
dominant language, home language
and native language
Chipepo Lwele
In Celebration of International Mother Tongue Day (February 21st is International Mother Language Day, a day to highlight how languages and multilingual can advance human development.)
21/02/203
Categories:
early childhood, appreciation, celebration, culture, language,
Form: Narrative
Harry knew that Maribelle was his soul partner.
He felt it from early childhood; had dreamed of it.
They were confidants, best friends, throughout their lives.
Maribelle was popular, she had lots of boyfriends.
Harry was patient. He waited, not rushing her, keeping quiet.
At the age of thirty-one, Maribelle realized they were a perfect match
You were so understanding and patient with me, she told him.
Marveling that her soul mate, Harry had been next door all her life.
Categories:
early childhood, love,
Form: Narrative
It was 3 am, past midnight,she layed alone in her bed,
Headphones put on her ears, a million thoughts running in her mind.
Tears streamed down her eyes, as she sobbed silently.
The people who were sleeping by her side, couldn't hear her cry.
Even if it was past 3 months, she couldn't get away,
Her dreams, her hopes, have gotten burned to thousands of ash,
From an early childhood, she grew up, Believing in her dream,
She even worked overtime to make everything perfect.
So how did everything go wrong? Where did it end?
How did she understood she won't be what she wanted to be?
She layed in her bed, heaving with sighs and silent cries.
The tears help her remember she was a soul,
Who was now, all alone.
~HUMERA
Categories:
early childhood, 11th grade, betrayal, deep,
Form: Free verse
How shall I deal with this wandering mind?
Meandering through a meadow of ideas,
Seeking truth among noxious weeds I find
Since early childhood I have been curious
Always sifting through my brain’s cogitations
Accepting new concepts; discarding previous,
Tossing thoughts like a machine’s agitations
Chewing on choices of words, so indecisive,
Practicing precise grammar with conjugations.
Fending off debaters who are often derisive
Debunking theories that sound far-fetched,
While trying not to be obnoxiously divisive.
How far should an agile mind be stretched?
Let it go unchallenged and it becomes static
Drifts into rumor, relishes meaningless kvetch.
I choose to allow my mind access to the attic,
Considering all the randomness that intrudes
To avoid, as much as I can, becoming dogmatic!
Categories:
early childhood, how i feel, introspection,
Form: Terza Rima
I have little sympathy for constant whimpering
Playing the victim and saying, “Woe is me!”
With that self-conscious smirk of simpering
The sort of thing that repeats itself annoyingly.
Few things I experience will trouble me much
I have little sympathy for constant whimpering,
I find myself impatient with an unwanted touch
And that kind of tete-a-tete of sly whispering
In my presence, where I am constantly tempering,
These are types of behavior I cannot abide,
I have little sympathy for constant whimpering
So, whiners and whisperers, don’t sit by my side.
Give me that modicum of respect I have earned
Observe polite decorum opposed to whispering
In early childhood my father made sure I learned,
I have little sympathy for constant whimpering.
written October 18, 2021
Categories:
early childhood, character, growing up, how
Form: Quatern
Crying fully out of my heart
promising to keep all your law
calling to you my sovereign Lord
'I need to be saved' words to draw
In all of this your words I see
makes one get up before dawn
in your words alone I do hope
words of beauty like a smooth lawn
Early in the morning, I can see
all your revelation you have revealed
so to meditate on God's promise
what riches God's duly sealed
God is our judge in giving life
in God's love, I listen for His voice
these lawbreakers show their evil
rejecting your law they're full of noise
I feel your presence very near
believing your testimonies be so true
since early childhood, I've ever known
you've founded them from ever new
(This is my " Psalm 119 project" which I began to write a couple of years ago, so this is the nineteenth poem of twenty-two poems I've written over that time to cover all of Psalm 119.)
Categories:
early childhood, bible, god, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
I suppose the fondest memory I have had
Might come from early childhood long ago
A time when I was very sick and felt so bad
I saw my mother’s salty tears so softly flow
Holding me tightly, and her letting me know
She would always be there to comfort me
I spent the night cradled in her loving arms
But, alas, her promise was not meant to be
A dreadful disease caused us many alarms
In time, it took from me my mother’s arms.
HONORABLE MENTION
Written July 2, 2021
"A Favorite Childhood Memory" Poetry Contest
All Poetry
April 6, 2022
Categories:
early childhood, loss, love, memory, mother
Form: Quintain (Sicilian)
O long and lonely winter nights; times of my early childhood.
Often weary and wet, but filled with a few people, decent and good.
The sun of the morning never ceased to light up our lives,
as the parting moon of the evening ceased the thrive.
Occasional dog barking bred security like alarms and beepers.
Active crickets and lightning bugs, entertaining to deep sleepers,
stepped aside like trained soldiers, giving way to crowing roosters.
When the roosters come calling, there is no need for ghostbusters.
Stars of the night, although in their domain and still alive in flight,
The sun's time had arrived to cast them clean out of sight.
Planet earth, faithful to her task, never ceased her spinning,
and she has been hard at work revolving since time beginning.
Dangerous creatures of the dark nights prefer to seek and hide.
It's the way of nature, the only way they know how to survive,
but the moon is programed to control the rise and fall of ocean tides.
It's all God's way of programing all life and things to keep us all alive.
101520PSCtest, Collaboration with the Silent One, Silent One
Categories:
early childhood, creation, god, insect, moon,
Form: Rhyme
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