Long Childhoodme Poems

Long Childhoodme Poems. Below are the most popular long Childhoodme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Childhoodme poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Looking Back

LOOKING BACK

Life ain't always easy,
Can be a bitter pill,
But I found when I was young,
I could have fun still.

We were poor, I guess that's true,
'Cause Mama left my dad,
And took me to the swamp lands,
Where I found life not half bad.

Folks out there didn't have much school,
Got by on common sense.
In fact they looked on city folks,
As just a little dense.

Mom wasn't understanding,
And beat me now and then,
I guess she figured that's the way,
You keep a child from sin.

Grandpa understood me more,
And kept her oft at bay.
The quiet man laid down the law,
And folks heard what he'd say.

Our food was what we grew out back,
And what our men folks hunted.
It wasn't fancy that's for sure,
But no one grew up stunted.

It taught me to be patient,
And wait upon the Lord.
It taught me not to live too far,
Above what I afford.

I learned to love the Lord a lot,
Depend upon His Grace,
I also leaarned an honest man,
Need never hide his face.

I guess I can't complain too much,
'Cause it made me what I am,
And taught me to appreciate,
And respect my fellow man.

                                        Judy Ball
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
me
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member Not Without the Bear

~~~ Not Without the Bear !! ~~~

It was summer and time to travel,
so where the heck was the bear.
I knew I wouldn't have any fun
if he wasn't with me there.

He was the first thing I must pack
before my shorts or hat.
More important that sunglasses
and I wouldn't forget to pack that.

In my travels each summer,
whether to our cabin or just camping,
the bear and I, we were a set.
The most important thing I'd bring.

Soft and furry, with big ears
and only eight inches tall.
My favourite toy, I had to bring.
He was no trouble at all.

He's small enough and quiet enough
and follows me with his eyes.
He likes to sit inside my shirt.
He just happens to be the right size.

So, tease me , if you must,
I really just don't care.
It was summer and time to travel.
I wasn't going without the bear !!


~~~ 03/07/2011 ~~
      Francine Roberts
Form: Rhyme

Little Johnnys Prayers Aged Seven and Three Quarters.

Right she said it is off to bed, 
let"s get you up those stairs. 
It"s half past eight and getting late 
I want to hear your prayers. 

Oh no I thought as I was brought 
to the foot of my own bed. 
What will I say, oh what to pray 
so this is what I said. 

Christ"s tears decreased my fears 
and reduced my salt outtake. 
To take my blame make me the same 
deserves a firm handshake. 

To die for me to let me see 
my soul so stripped and bear. 
Is beyond belief a true relief 
that someone really cares. 

Now as for God the poor old sod 
he sacrificed his son. 
To create, anoint, to make a point 
for me and everyone. 

But the Devil knows the seeds he sows 
are all quite growing well, 
that not all faith can reach day eighth 
and makes an easier sell. 

So here we are, we"ve come this far 
in this our modern world. 
You can be devout about your doubt 
as your tongue becomes unfurled. 

So I just say what price to pay 
for mankind is surely bound. 
To take onboard all knowledge stored 
that those who"re lost are found. 

I"m all for firsts but what I thirst 
is something more mind numbing. 
I want to say, he"s on his way 
behold the second coming. 

Mother sighs and says "oh my, 
I think your faith is swaying." 
So I bow my head at end of bed 
and pretend that I"m still praying. 

She left the room in state of gloom, 
I thought well aint that odd 
no homework done, oh my what fun. 
There really is a God! 

© Ned Flanders
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Child's Letter To God

deer mister god: momy said i coud rite a leter by mysef to you
i'd lik to talk on the fone with you but this wil half to do
id reely lik to set on yur lap, ticle you and pul yur beerd
maybee sumday i can do that if you woudn think me weerd

i want you to no i ben good and go to churc and sundy skool
my sundy skool techer has ben teaching us the goldy rool
be sur to be in churc next sundy, il show you my nuu shooz
il make sur dady nos yur ther so he wont tak his snooz

ther is sum things i ben wantin to ask you about
is it ok if i dont have to eat all my brusel sprout
momy says you ar al around us but i have nevr seen you
ar you playin hid and seek and playin triks on me too

nuther thing i ben wunder about is who invented lite
wuz it you or mister edisun pleaz tel me wich is rite
tel me what reely hapen to al them dinersors
and why do dadies have to fite in al the wars

momy says im geting a litle bruthr but wont you tak pity
what i reely want frum you or santi claws is a flufy kity
i luv you as many as the stars and want you as my frien
tak good care uf yursef mister god yur pen pal mary ann

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
me
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Last Real Toy

When I was really small, I loved my trike,
and then I graduated to a bike.
I also liked to skip, so mother bought
A jump rope that I used an awful lot.

It seems I really loved to hop around,
to have my feet come off,  then back on ground.
I got a pogo stick I used all year
and wore out quickly once I learned to steer!

At 15, I was not the same small kid,
for there were other fun things that I did.
However, I still liked some childish things
like Sting Ray bikes and trampolines and swings.

That year appeared in stores a brand new toy,
a grand delight for every girl and boy.
And though a woman I had now become,
that Christmas I just had to have me one!

This last “real” toy of mine I won’t forget
because it brought me also some regret.
A toy once you start, you can hardly stop:
Can you guess? It was the Hoppity Hop.

This toy was just a big strong rubber ball.
You’d grip its handles so you wouldn’t fall.
I loved to bounce around the yard on it,
and all I had to do was simply sit!

A boy I kind of liked showed up one day.
I didn’t know he’d come and seen me play
until I got up off that crazy ball
and went to tell him “hi,” but that’s not all. . . 

I learned the back side of my shorts had split.
The whole time he was there, I never knew it.
My sisters later told me. Well, that guy
simply stayed and didn’t bat an eye!

I felt so idiotic and was sure
he must have found me kind of immature,
a grown girl hopping all around her lawn!
But worse was how I felt once he had gone.

He’d seen my shorts ripped from behind, and then
said nothing.  I could not face him again.
So silly! He still liked me after all. . . 
but I abandoned him and that dang ball!


For Paula Swanson's "Childhood Memory" Contest
Form: Rhyme


I Was a Butchers Boy.

I was a Butchers boy. 
I delivered peoples meat. 
I went round on a bicycle 
to save my aching feet. 

Some people liked our Pork Chops, 
and others they liked Lamb. 
You even got the customer 
who didn"t give a damn. 

The bike it had a basket. 
Attached above the wheel, 
and when i went down hills, 
i rested both my heels. 

I worked from four till six. 
Except at the weekend. 
When i did a longer shift, 
it drove me round the bend. 

"You always smell of Mince." 
My Mother always said. 
You will need another shower 
before you go to bed. 

The girls they used to tease. 
They put me in a Stew. 
"We like your Sheepskin coat, 
we like the look of Ewe." 

But i had had enough. 
I wished that i"d be fired! 
For like my Butchers bike. 
I found myself two-tyred! 


This Butchers boy was sizzled. 
Like a Steak that was well done. 
My free time seemed so rare. 
I fancied having fun. 

Then the Baker called, 
but i had to say "No fears." 
Just like your Wedding Cake, 
it would only end in tiers!
boy
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Baby Shoes

So cold…black cold…old cold,
wind burns through the cars broken window
as it speeds down the black ribbon into the onyx night.
Tears of cold seep
from the corners of my auburn lashes.
The whoop, whoop, of passing phone poles
and the engines whirrrrr
force my lids to close lazily.
Street lights lemon blast them open
once too often and I whimper;
squirming to get at my thumb,
mittens leave me unrewarded.

So cold..my cheeks burn cold.
So cold…my nose runs clear.
Mother turns backward toward me,
purple in the dash lights flame wiping my face
with her frozen fingers;
plumping the blankets and tying my wool cap.
Father sings Sinatra songs 
and clucks me under the chin at a stop.
“Baby needs a new pair of shoes!” He says.
Gambling that the flight from farmland 
to M’Yorka would get all of us just that!
The prodigal son returns home.
Form: Narrative

'suffer Little Children To Come Unto Me'

I'm the child that no-one See's, no-one ever remembers me, I live across the road from
you, the one with bruises, black and blue, the child who never speaks or cries, the child
with sunken dark ringed eyes.

I watch you as you walk on past, from the dirty bedroom window glass, I never smile or
wave to you, my arm, like my heart is broken too, but that's something I must never
mention, my bones mend without attention.

I don't get hungry anymore, although my throat gets dry, I try to forget how I feel, and
watch the world pass by. I saw a lady with her dog, he pranced and played on grass, I
liked that very much, just watching from behind this glass.

One day I will play outside, and I will have a dog, the sun will shine upon my face
instead of dirty fog, of all the dreams I had today, this one I will keep, I'm going to
play with this little dog, once I fall asleep.

With such a start I turn around, the door is opening wide, and stepping into this lonely
room, he grabs me as I hide, my frail body thrown around, my head hits against the wall,
he smiles at me, he's oh so pleased, as I hit the floor.

As he turns to leave the room, my eyes become a mist, he hit me really hard this time,
full force from his fist, I used to find the strength to stand, I'm usually ok, but this
time it's so different, I'm being pulled away.

On wooden floorboards where I fell, I'm certain I see God,  he has come to take me home,
and with him is a dog. As he takes my lifeless hand, and lifts me to his chest, he tells
me there will be someone, me they won't  forget!

'Suffer little children, to come unto me, for theirs is the kingdom Of heaven'
Form: Rhyme

As Long As My Music Lives...

Don't make me promises of riches,
or expose me to false visions;
I live with meager means,
to surpass the wisdom of kings: 
and as long as my music lives...
there won't be struggle or need!
As a youngster,I dreamed without illusion,
knowing which dreams were lasting and real:
discarding those causing deprivation,
not to be deceived by their vivid feel!


Notes of unwritten symphonies battered
this head...'till they quietly entered,
and at night-time at the same hour,I used 
to hear their harmony as they sweetly played;
was that a gift I should have pursued,
or let it go to waste as if it never existed?


Until tomorrow shone 
with the splendor of the eternal sun,
nothing I kept for myself or
expected hand-outs without deserving them;
this honesty was part of my integrity...
and everyone saw it and was amazed!
I swam through those rough waters of an inclement river,
suffocating,and not saying a word;
and finally my frustration found an outlet of relief...
my calm ocean awaited me at the end of my journey;
and as long as my music lives,
so will this undaunted spirit!

Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Form: Narrative

Children

When i see your smile's it melts the exsistance of my very core.
I stop for a moment and think what on earth did i ever do before.
I had so much more time in my hand's, now everyday just fly's by.
and when i look in to your tiny little face's it always puts me on a high.
It's true what they say, your life will never be the same again.
But the way in which my two children make me feel, how  could i ever complain.
You have changed my life for the better and turned me in to someone i never new i could be,
and i'll do my best for you both, just you wait and see.
I never will of ever had so much love for another.
I realized this the day that you made me your mother.
Form: Rhyme

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