Childhood House Poems | Examples
These Childhood House poems are examples of House poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of House Childhood poems written by international poets.
I saw you in a house at sea
you were in every room
and each room had a light of its own
in the living room the protean light of the future
in the kitchen the busy light of childhood
in the bedroom the physical light of remembrance
in the attic the muffled light of crossroads
the sea turned into a desert
the house to a bird the color of the sky
which lifted itself on wings of wind
leaving you among the skulls and cactus
with gold to curse at
love to curse with
Orange sun is out, and we're playing house
My pets are my kids-until puss sees mouse!
Mommy loves to water her gorgeous blooms
While dog and kitty rest, inside porch rooms.
This Saturday, childhood seems left behind
When we make-believe, as the time unwinds.
Soon Mommy serves lunch-of milk and a bone;
And sandwich for herself. Jay sings alone.
The Black House A Childhood Memory
The house was unpainted, and I told my teacher it was black.
In the black house where memories reside,
Middle childhood days of carefree delight,
Warm sunbeams upon sweet shrubs at our side,
A haven where no worries in sight.
Laughter echoes in the summer air,
Our innocence and joy intertwined,
Down where the sweet shrub blooms so fair
In the heart of youth, pure and refined.
Oh, how I long for those days gone by,
When time moved slowly, and troubles were few,
Golden hours spent under unspoiled blue sky,
In that sacred place where dreams could come true.
So let us cherish those memories dear,
Of the black house, where love was near.
The chook house
stood empty for most
of my childhood.
An enclosed corrugated iron
shed was surrounded
by a wire fence
and a wooden gate
held on by one rusty hinge.
Inside was small
and cramped, just big enough
to hold a seven year old
and keep out
the rest of the world.
Daddy long leg spiders
guarded its inner twilight,
webs were strung
like trip wires to snare
an unwary soul.
Wounded I would seek
refuge there, safe
in its dark womb. Huddled
in silence, only a thin
umbilical of light
connected me to the outside
through a nail hole
in the roof. No-one knew
I was there.
After seventy years
I still preserve the space,
keep it hidden
in a corner of my mind.
When the world
gets too much
I make myself small
and go there.
"Kansas, she says, is the name of the star"
as for my mom's place, it was Mira Mar :)
"When she fell out of Kansas, a miracle occurred"
after we moved, my grandma's house remodel deferred
If I was a house I’d be detached
Secure in my walls, untouched
My roof angled against the rain
My windows, tightly shut, secure
My front garden neat, the back
Garden uncut, scruffy, untidy
My brickwork would be red
My front door council blue
My childhood had yellow doors
We never got the blue or green
My driveway would be long
Keeping the world outside
The gates would have a chain
Wooden panels attached to
The side walls, a gate cut
To enter the garden, via a path
A satellite dish juts from the wall
The signal welcome, the world not.
Because, if I was a house, I’d be detached.
David Cox 02/08/22
I rode by the old house
it had been some time
since I revisited that place
some things have grown
some things have changed
but different colours of paint
do not change the memories
that are part of childhood
many happy memories
outweigh the sad ones
time spent with siblings
the pets we enjoyed
the guiding parents hand
the love of family
forever in our hearts
I rode by the old house
it has been some time
bringing back fond memories
of how things used to be.
Grandmother’s house,
An old-fashioned space
Where I loved to visit -
A special place.
Bubbling jam and
Pickles in jars
A kitchen just meant
For juvenile stars.
Flour in the sifter
As well as the floor.
Little hands pushing
And rolling some more -
Cookies or doughnuts
Or loaves of bread.
Visions of apple pie
Danced in my head.
Always I think
Of Grandmother’s home
As a magical place
Just fit for a “pome”.
Behind our house – so many memories
created by myself and siblings dear!
Way back behind it there were many trees -
a woods where we amused ourselves all year.
But our first summer was my best recall:
in our back yard before I had turned ten.
In swimsuits and with great glee – one and all -
we’d turn the hose on, laughing, splashing then.
We’d spray each other, squealing as we raced
through water’s cold squirts underneath hot sun.
Then after it got dark, fireflies we chased.
Oh, how I miss those days of summer fun!
Such joy just being children! Time goes fast.
That memory’s a cool blast from my past.
August 2, 2020
For the Dusty Old Memories Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The wind is cathartic
Makes her feel loved
Reminds her of her childhood
She sees the lighthouse
A place that terrified her during her youth
For it is where her uncle lived
She knew better than to get too close
Feeling his pedophilic tendencies
Almost before he knew they were there
She suspected he was the Lighthouse killer
And possibly this was the lighthouse
She tiptoed past quickly
Even though he was long gone,
There was an evilness about this place
She heard the screams of young women every time she passed it.
Lassie's a dog
Kermit's a frog
Oscar's a grouch
Watch 'em all on the couch
Felix's a cat
Mickey's a mouse
Donald's a duck
On TV in your house
Rocky's a squirrel
Bugs is a bunny
Bullwinkle's a moose
The truth ain't so funny
You grew soft on that couch
Watching TV in your house
And now that your older
Your tired blood's running colder
So send your kids out of doors
And command 'em to play
That they don't end up like you
~ At the end of their day
dark desolate road
an unloved abandoned house
shabby and unkempt
makes me exceedingly sad
tear wallpaper from my youth
You left without saying goodbye
and now I'll never know what it was like,
to have you teach me, eye to eye.
You left without saying goodbye.
Now who will show me how to ride a bike
or chide me when I tell a lie?
You left without saying goodbye
and now I'll never know what it was like.
NOTE: Fictional.
Yet again, another old poem, but have some newer ones in the back-burner. There are so many things to write about, if only one is in the mood and state of mind to organize those thoughts into something tangible and readable.
We were eight children
crowded in a little house;
and just one bathroom.
5/5/16
For Contest: Haiku on "My Family"
Hosted by: Marvin Celestial
Upon a grassy hill, so long ago,
there stood a lovely 'castle', tall and white;
was built in eighteen eighty-six, aglow
with cozy rooms and firesides burning bright.
So charming were the winding stairs that flared
'neath grand cathedral ceiling's chandelier.
Outdoors, a rolling lawn and gardens shared
a rippling stony brook, so full and clear.
This 'castle' on the hill from long ago
became a fairytale- no more to see.
Now, only precious thoughts that come and go
can bring to life my fading memory.
My childhood 'castle' on the hill is gone-
our home- torn down to build a bridge upon.