Long Childhood Poems
Long Childhood Poems. Below are the most popular long Childhood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Childhood poems by poem length and keyword.
They all come, and turn,
The apostatic hundreds from the wilderness,
Hungry as the lamprey, open-mouthed,
Impatient as an itch,
And virtuous as the grave.
Those that wait remain unsatisfied,
Barren children of a barren race,
Yet hopeful ever.
Severed from their mother womb
And ushered into manliness,
The fortunates groan and hate the light
And curse the hand that feeds them.
Out of the night they come, the suburbs' nuns,
Come to the cloisters and the cellars
And in the candlelight take off the veil,
Throw inhibitions to the wind
And chastity to fools,
As far behind, an echo of the past,
A childhood godhead is dismayed.
Dear ol' dad loved
the way our mom
made fried clams.
It stood to reason
that a deep fat fryer
would be the perfect
Christmas present for her.
He proudly placed it
under the sad, Charlie Brown, tree
he purchased for 3 bucks
two minutes before the lot closed,
on Christmas eve 1955.
The expression
of disappointment
on our mom's face,
evident to me
but masked for
my younger siblings,
made for one of my sadder
Christmas mornings.
Dear ol' dad, as usual,
was half-lit and clueless.
She died way too young.
He eventually used the pot
to melt lead for sinkers.
I never eat fried clams.
Happy Holidays
A grateful greeting
to you and yours.
The merriest of wishes…
I pray directly to the King,
in your honor,
this holiday
and
forever.
His mighty hand upon your life,
may He be all that you need.
Walking ever in the fire,
the ice of a still greater hell,
that heaven will be yours,
and all those you love.
Kneeling in His honor,
the King,
He was born,
The virgin, the manger,
The story, old… and new!
Merry Christmas…
as “Merry” I am,
ever to be happy.
The holiday is the
Birth of GOD!
Hail to the King!!!
Blessings on your life,
keep you ever in His family.
If you believe you are not,
it is only by choice…
Welcome…
God Bless,
And Merry Christ mas to You!
Amen
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart).
I am never without it."
E. E. Cummings
Grandma was my hero in childhood days
comforting me with hugs, kisses and praise
I loved her house because it was so old
Sweet peas in her garden, purple and gold
She'd brush my hair when it was in tangles
let me wear her gems, earrings and bangles
And then I mothered her as time unfurled
Brushing her long white hair in waves that curled
Her tender smile soothed my heartaches and tears
Held me in loving arms to stop my fears
I will never forget her gentle touch
Dear Grandma, I miss you so very much
I wept like a child on interment day
Wished she was there to wipe my tears away
September 16, 2022
Writing Challenge-In My Heart S Forms Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Lost to Heaven - Grandmother Marceline
checked with howmanysyllables
Well, one could not call it a church for it was not white, pure, or religious nor could it be
called a Police Department or Sheriff Department with the attached jail for it was not that
bad or evil. This place was unpainted, bare wood, and with four rock chimneys which
sometimes smoked no matter how old or young they were but the smoke only appeared in
the early morn and late afternoon for the occupants were about life or should I say survival.
Making it from pay check to pay check barely getting by with nothing to spare. Inside was
emotional barreness, loneliness, and inferiority at the max for love and hope had died so
long ago. Isolation of the soul with preditory instincts to encapsulate all with the preditory
instincts of a wild animal this being done to one so young rightly separates this place from a
church but yet it is not a prison. Permanently emotionally destroys the child......
(Is this prose poetry or do I need to work on it. Be honest. I need to know where to go with
it.)
Years ago, when my friends and I were just boys;
A nearby place provided such simple joys.
To us, it was one of the best local ‘finds’;
“Let’s go to the creek,” never far from our minds.
We usually rode bikes, although sometimes we’d run;
To be first to arrive was part of the fun.
Visiting each favorite spot with made-up names;
Racing leaf and twig boats, playing other games.
Covering stones with mud, shouting “Bombs away!”
Vying for biggest ‘explosion’ of the day.
Pretending that large rocks were islands mid stream;
For hours we’d play in a quasi day dream.
Imagining that millimeters were miles;
Jumping from the creek’s banks to ‘fly’ to warm isles.
When dusk called us home as it did way too fast;
We knew today’s trip here would not be our last.
When I was a kid, I was an explorer and as an explorer, I explored,
One day I was exploring our neighbors old shed and there she was;
A doll discarded in the junk, and she was beautiful and I just loved her,
When mother asked, "where did you get that doll?" I just lied and smiled.
The years have passed, the pages turned, and now I am an adult,
I would like to apologize to my mother for lying, "Mom, I stole her!"
And to Mrs. Smith, our neighbor, "Mrs. Smith, I apologize for stealing."
To make amends, I will give her away, because, I still have her on a my bed.
But, I lied, she still dwells on my bed . . .
____________________________
February 21, 2016
Poetry/Verse/I just lied and smiled
Copyright Protected, ID 16-760-189-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, It's Time To 'Fess Up'
sponsor, Lin Lane
Fifth Place
Corrupt words shake the ocean of my sleep-
Since childhood words have infected my mind,
and the endless winds of time roll and creep;
I carry scars- my spirit and soul twined,
my mind a ravaged garden deep.
And in my decay I weep;
will peace, I find?
Those unkind words are chains of heavy lead-
A mind ruined is like a church defiled,
oh, the tarnished shadows of time I dread;
I will not sail across the sky exiled,
I will find a new path to tread.
Destroying poison said;
my thinking wild!
And I will bloom a beautiful flower-
I swear, never will this girl's heart be cold,
my wounds will bring me strength and power;
I will leave those bloody stains of old,
and pure- I will stand a tower.
Oh peace will flow each hour;
leaving words told . . . .
_________________________
April 4, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Contamination: Of My Mind
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1010-114-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym,
Written for the contest, Contamination
sponsor, Kai Michael Newmann
Ninth Place
Dreaming shows you many hidden things in your mind; it opens you to alternative thinking…
Clairvoyance is always a problem I have had. I have very vivid dreams, and that same times come true. This is one of those instances.
Imagine, if you will, a little boy having a nightmare, waking up, and realizing everything is ok. Happens to everyone right? No. that was me, or at least, the nightmares…
I had (what I thought was real) a dream once, about 5 years ago, back in 5th grade. It all started with one secret, and a little white lie that turned into well, a big white lie.
So one thing about me, I am socially awkward, people don’t like me, I don’t like them, I like to be alone.
So I chose to break my own rule, of course it didn’t exist at the time, to break the third thing. I was being made fun of by this kid so I lied and said I knew a secret about him but no one could tell. I told everyone that he well, still wet the bed, this was not true but everyone believed me. I didn’t realize what I was getting myself into.
So this kid broke my second rule by trying to figure out, but he did it the smart way. Instead of flipping out and asking everyone and just getting made fun of more, he asked a teacher. This teacher happened to have already heard it and told him.
As I basked in my fame from breaking rule one, this kid was slowly getting revenge, this little thing ruined my school life. He came up with a counter lie… He told everyone I was adopted. I was shunned for life, although, thankfully I moved.
The moral of my story is, this happen, but lying doesn’t work, and secrets definitely don’t. Keeping things from people just hurts them. I ruined my own life by keeping a fake secret and lying. So my question for this little rant of mine, as is at every one of mine, how do you feel about secrets, but more importantly, do you have any secrets?
Through all that happened with that little lie, I am still baffled to this day, what is it that makes a secret so desirable? Do you not want to be made fun of? Or do you just feel cool for knowing a secret?
Just a gravel road
Laid with old creek rock
Way out in the country
No door has a lock
Just a tidy yard
With a garden on the side
A well in the back
They would seek, I would hide
Just a little trailer
Surrounded by all trees
Sitting on the porch swing
Swatting at the wood bees
Just a small bird bath
And a little lady sign,
“Wipe your feet honey child”
Mostly talking about mine
Just an old station wagon
Drove us everywhere
All across the state we went
Without a problem or a care
Just a simple lady
With a smile bright as May
With a heart good as gold
And a laugh that made your day
Just a simple lady
That I would like to be
If I’m anything like her
I hope the world will see
Just a simple lady
Who really lit this place
On high, she’s resting peaceful
Her soul is now with Grace