Long Childrens Poems
Long Childrens Poems. Below are the most popular long Childrens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Childrens poems by poem length and keyword.
Christmas boxes and ribbons from last year,
gatherings starting with those we hold dear,
gift paper, sprinkles, sparkling golden bows,
noisy silver bells on elves' twinkling toes.
Angels and carolers midst lovely lights.
Spicy kitchens, cookies, pumpkin delights.
stars shining down on a calm midnight clear,
we pause to reflect on this fleeting year.
Hanging the tinsel, we try to pretend
our world isn't hurting, we needn't mend
someone will feed those with little to eat
and fit shoes over their tired, bunioned feet.
So, we take our gifts, find some needy souls,
who are hungry, hurt, victims of life's tolls.
The smiles on their faces, and childrens' glee,
Gifts to us--hearts warmed by love's canopy
Our souls are expanded by miles and miles
when love reaches far to warm others' smiles.
November 26, 2021
"X" New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
A Second Place
I remember when you were sixteen
So young and full of life
You were brave and accepted any dare
You took all burdens and strife
Then you met a girl of your dreams
You said she took your breath away
Your bond seemed indestructible
Pure joy written in your face
Then one day an illness claimed her life
But with it she took your soul
And every attempt to console your grief
Couldnt make your broken heart whole
You secluded yourself from others
Spent hours alone up in your room
We all thought you would heal in time
But were blind to the impending doom
Your Mom came to wake you for school
But when she knocked there was no reply
That day will haunt me forever
When I heard heard her horrific cries.
I dashed in a panic to the bedroom
Found you cradled in your Mothers arms
Your body limp with lifeless eyes
Your last memory caused such harm
Four days later our family gathered
To lay your tattered soul to rest
Tears flowed out like a raging river
It shows the broken hearts you left
So parents heed this warning
Dont take for granted your childrens tears
Do whatever it takes to help them through
Dont let suicide claim what you hold dear.
My Freedom is,
Looking at the world,
with child-like wonder,
compassionate loving and
Spiritual eyes.
My Freedom is,
Watching dandelion seeds
Blow by me on a
warm Summer's breeze.
My Freedom is,
Listening to music and
Dancing in front of the mirror
I brush my teeth
Every morning and every night.
My Freedom is,
Looking up at the rain
and feeling The Divine's
Tears of Her Joys and Her Sorrows
That soothes my darkness
and awakens my Shine.
My Freedom is...
Closing my eyes
and remember how
my lovers' passionate kiss
rests on my trebling lips.
My Freedom is..
Laughing so hard from a joke
That I only know the punchline too.
And someone else joins in and laughs
My Freedom is,
Looking in my childrens' twinkling eyes
and seeing love, light ,and laughter
and reflecting it back to me.
My Freedom is my heart
My Freedom is my mind
My Freedom is my soul.
They can shackle my hand and feet,
They can put me in a cage,
they can try to dehumanize me,
But they can only take what give to them
My Heart Mind Soul is Mine
My Freedom belongs to Me
Tears of pain fall from her tired eyes, too many tears she's already cried. A life full of pain
she has seen through her eyes, and miles she has walked with sadness by her side. Many
years of pain have left her feeling empty inside. She feels the pain as her heart is torn from
the inside out, pain and sarrow are all that life has left to offer her, as tears stream down her
face. She remembers a time, a place when the tears were gone, and a smile took their
place, all she had to do was see a smile upon her childrens face. But now their gone, they
take with them pieces of her torn heart. She is left with a bleeding heart, a broken soul with
tears in her eyes and a pain that wont die.
Form:
i am a river
i water tree's
in far away places
i bring water for mothers
to wash childrens faces
i quench the thirst
of those that consume me
and heal with coolness
beings that need me
i flow deep
sometimes deep underground
and those on the surface
can hardly hear my sound
but mightily i still flow
from tip of the mountian
to the oceans shore
in the deserts where i left
dried river beds
creatures wait, seeds antisapate
the mystery of my return
to bring to life
the beauty that sleeps
benieth the days dried soil
i can tell when times began
and mark the seasons
with my tide
i carve the earth
where ever i go
and has taught man
history by the way i flow
{Incompleat}
Form:
Walking after dark
Through an abandoned park
Where lovers once walked hand in hand
Dancing to their favorite band
Passing a lonely merry-go-round
There is no childrens laughter found
Loves no longer bound
Hearts changing
Rearranging
What used to be
You can no longer see
Eyes growing older
Life grows colder
Thinking on what once was there
Someone once used to care
Brings a tear
Brings back the fear
Times changed
My times Rearranged
Here I am walking after dark
Through this abandoned park.
Trying to recapture something I lost
Lonely heart pays the cost
The day's keep passing me by
Teardrops I no longer cry
Don't know why
As the moon passes by
Days come and go
Seems to move too slow
As I step into tomorrow
I have nothing left to show
Just on I go
It is all I know
On Wells Street in Chicago, is a sweet comedic treat.
Second City Theater for laughs and where many found their beginnings on plain stage, their life's heartbeat.
No "Phantom of the Opera" no lines, no costumes, no staging.
All actors had to do was improvise.No heavy make-up, yet one in an
instant learn how to disguise.
As in jazz, whether Brubeck or Davis, we all played off one another.
No fixed lines like Henny or famous the Smothers Brothers.
I never understood this magic of improvisation,
But once I learned it, what a phenomenal source of excitation.
This was a true gift how to act in the now.
It has served me in relationships, as I can't be a fake no how!
The censor that dances in your head keeps you from being free,
as if your head is stuck in a tree.
Most get stuck inside their heads, improvisation sets you free.
~Biography~
Poetess is Graduate of the famed Second City.
Was on stage for their Childrens Theater Troupe every Saturday for two years.
After that, moved on to be a stand up comedienne.I was trained by Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid("WKRP in Cincinnati."
I worked clubs in Chicago. Later in San Francisco, at Holy City Zoo. **Women comedians in the 1970's were not to be gross as they are now.
Tim and Tom were the only black and white comedy act ever. No grossness was ever displayed...best experience of my life!
Dedicated to Tom Dreesen and Tim Reid. Tom went on to be the opening act for Frank Sinatra and helped in the HBO movie on Frank. Also, launched The Comedy Store in Los Angeles. Both humble men....and friends,
OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW IS A BRILLIANCE OF LEAVES SWIVELLING AND
DANCING ROUND AND ROUND. THE SKY IS THE COLOR OF MAPLE SYRUP.
THERE IS A HINT OF BURGUNDY ETCHED ON EACH GOLDEN LEAF (B)
YOUR HEART HAS BECOME A SYMPHONY OF AUTUMN, RUSTLING ALONG
BREEZY AND HAPPY AS A WAYWARD KITE. CHILDRENS LAUGHTER IN YOUR
EAR AND WINDBLOWN PATCH OF EARTH ARRIVE IN YOUR COLORFUL
PLAYGROUND, AND SUDDENLY YOU ARE YOUNG AGAIN.(B)
STANDING ON A HILL OF LEAVES YOU RAISE YOUR ARMS AND DROP THE
LEAFLETS THEN WATCH THEM TUMBLING DOWN BRINGING SHADES OF
COCOA BROWN, PUMPKIN ORANGE, GOLDEN GATE RED AND MELLOW
YELLOW (B)
PUMPKIN GRINS AND BLUSHING APPLES SITTING ON A LINEN TABLECLOTH
OF WHITE AND RED. JACKOLANTERNS WILL SOON BE LIT AND COSTUME
DRESS WILL BE IN FULL SWING. DIVE INTO AUTUMN SECRETS AND TALK TO
NATURE IN YOUR QUIET AND SURE VOICE. TELL THE BUDDING PINCONES
ABOUT YOUR LOVE OF FRESH OCTOBER CALLS. ETCHED ON A LEAF I SEE
A WORD. IT SPELLS P E A C E.
(B)
Ghosts of moments from our past
linger just beyond reach.
Those we once held most dearly,
now we silently beseech.
Silver secrets of first love--
now but sighs upon the wind,
near a place where, long ago,
broken hearts would soon begin.
Ghosts of a love, once captured
but escaped in the quiet.
Childrens' whispers, their giggles
fade to echoes in the night.
Ghosts hold the secret stories
of our lives now almost spent--
ghosts of memories that remain
where, once, only dreams were sent.
Originally submitted October, 2021
Reworked and submitted January 23,2022
for A Brian Strand (1058) Poetry Contest
Dread felled my fellows hearts, woes unseen from those on high
Bled, swells my fellows hearts, foes unseen from hills nigh'
Crashing, sweeping, weeping, boom and splashing, near imposing doom
Locked in the mortal struggle gloom and gnashing of teeth, untidy groom
Dusty fields span the horizon, vast as any ocean seen
Grizzly bodies ash like iron, casting shadows over scene
Swords and sheilds differ, where heroes have lain before
Battles the same occur, when politics tend to ignore.
Ghastly figures huddle amidst the filth and pray
Strange sounds echo adrift, fires lithe by day
Unknowing the missions ends, purpose to what is wrought?
Childrens pale faces grim, failing to see purpose fought.