Long Girlhood Poems
Long Girlhood Poems. Below are the most popular long Girlhood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Girlhood poems by poem length and keyword.
Do you remember when........
We played imaginary games as kids?
The PC Police did not flip their lids.
It was truly a magical time to be.
Cowboys, Indians, yes and we climbed trees.
Police vs bad guys , that was no sin!
I had a silver cap gun, not made of tin.
Funny, there was not a hint of violence.
We were raised by parents with a God and common sense!
We had an American flag on a tall pole in the backyard.
We pledged to it, and were not called flaming retards.
Oh, days of fresh candy and ice cream
And products American made, by Sunbeam.
We wore real shoes made of leather.
There were no daily murders, our lives
floating as if they were the Creator's shining feathers.
We had polio, flu, measles and many illnesses, too.
Yet, when well~ we all went happily back to school
Nobody would dream of hitting a teacher back then.
But get real, it's happening now and God, please help them?
All those cuss words we hear from children today?
They didn't exist at all in my girlhood days.
Of children's lost innocence, I wish to wail and weep.
In this insane world, what do they dream, my friends,
of when those angels are sleep?
They are forbidden to socialize!
Keep a distance from friends, wear a mask and normalize?
Grandparents peering at their grandchildren through a window?
Facetiming with no hugs or kisses, is this anyway for children
to grow?
Baseball with cardboard fans in the stands?
No more beautiful weddings with dancing, twirling to a band?
I am more than happy to leave this lockdowned earth.
Having no freedom, is a the saddest dearth.
July 25, 2020
8:45pm PST
Galveston beach and its gentle mornings
glimmered through my girlhood,
warm waves wrapping my ankles
as I searched the sand for treasures~
smooth shells and shy sand dollars,
.
In the distance, my parents’ voice drifted~
the sea breeze carrying them
easy and unhurried,
as if time itself was
softened by the sea.
the salt-sweet air carried a type of comfort,
the quiet kind that
settled softly into my childhood bones~
a warmth brushed with sea-spray
and sun-soaked breezes,
the kind that tasted of tide-mist
and felt like home on my skin.
in a way, Galveston is home~
its tide once touching
my great-grandfather’s boots
as he arrived in America,
hopeful and unanchored
fresh from the old world,
finding his first foothold
in the new world.
and I carry him with me still~
his courage like a quiet current
beneath my days,
his journey echoing
in every shoreline breath,
reminding me that I, too,
am shaped by the sea
that welcomed him.
this alteh kocker nostalgically reflects
being ma late mama's boytchik
(now, she long since deceased,
whose cremated remains of day
scattered to all points on compass)
fondly referencing
both sisters as dabchick
incongruously sprinkled her Brooklyn brogue,
especially when angry, she quickly segued
from mild expletive fiddlestick
the latter playfully aired,
when kibitzing wit bubeleh
reminiscing being dirt poor,
nonetheless zee mother
every now an again homesick
regaling the whole mishpokhe
(meaning us brood of kids)
interrupting herself
with frequent non sequiturs
discombobulated anecdotes switching subjects
as if external forcefield
jimmying a joystick
interleaving disparate threads with subsequent
tangential linkedin snippets
with feigned lovesick
chatting 'bout cockamamie
"Grandpa Moishe"
and his chaim yankel posse
(to escape hen pecking nudnik
"grandma Rebecca"),
a trenchant termagent bubba,
not averse to incorporate dreck
in the same sentence with zayda
ostracized him
scoring figurative placekick,
whence upon his schlepping back home
met with "silent treatment" dampening rollick
king atmosphere choking tearfully
"mother" recounted
farblunget anger thick
lee palpable extremely discomfiting,
particularly when ("mom's")
girlhood friends bore witness aye gavalt,
where penury churned moribund thoughts
viz empty cupboards
devoid of bare necessities
a figurative apropos yardstick.
The girl, so young, with dreams so wide,
The girl, she laughs, she loves, she cries,
The girl, in this world, finds her way,
The girl, through life, learns day by day.
The girl, with heart, so full of grace,
The girl, she'll find her special place,
The girl, in time, will bloom and grow,
The girl, her spirit, will always glow.
The girl, with strength, she'll face her fears,
The girl, through trials, will shed her tears,
The girl, in her eyes, holds the sky,
The girl, with hope, will learn to fly.
The girl, she realizes, with wide-eyed glee,
That girl, that teen, oh, it is me,
It's you, and her, and every soul,
In every heart, she plays a role.
In every laughter, every tear,
In every hope, and every fear,
The girl, a mirror, reflecting true,
The strength inside, the world anew.
So cherish her, this girl in you,
In every shade, in every hue,
For in her journey, we all unite,
A tapestry of dreams, so brilliantly bright.
Oh, this girl, she's more than youth,
She's love, she's courage, she's simple truth,
In every teen, the world can see,
The boundless possibilities, that girl is me, is you, is we.
I nestled her… dear January child
My arms her manger on a night beguiled.
Those pink fingers twitching to feel new dawn
As long hours of labor seemed quite undone,
When babe mildly chuckled, I wept with mirth
For heaven’s gift …this miracle of birth,
Then to race on woods picking flowers, aglow
Playful a youngster’s seasons like a river’s flow,
Enchanting girlhood days prepared to learn
Of adventures where she tried to discern;
The meaning of right from wrong, and uphold
Values from home,school… her years growing bold.
Now at nineteen, Camille reaches to life
Balancing the grace of pleasure and torn strife.
O I love how she nurtures her own fire
Remaining steady with a heart’s desire,
To follow new adult’s path…kind yet gritty,
My January child, the breath that’s me.
2/25/2016
My Lovely Children Contest for Laura Loo
Inspiration from the mother of my dear godchild
and niece, Camille
Pretty am I in this forest of green
Appreciate my eyes for I've seen what I've dreamed
Not that long ago when I was a little girl
What I had seen in my dreams made my heart twirl
To my knees I descend whilst holding out my hand
Catching the rays of the sun saying my girlhood command
For I recall in my dreams, they were not that long ago
To appear in front of me three fairies to please show
As soon as the sun touched, three fairies appeared to me
They cared for all around which made my eyes see
Something in me desired to see what they could do
A feeling of hope so young, filled my heart with true
I was taken to a clearing, amidst shrubs and flowers
Beside translucent pure, flowing among natures powers
Green laiden trees show their canopies of cover
Shadowing their below, but not one plant did cower
Everywhere I looked, I heard a rustling in the trees
Birds of coloured feathers branch hopping as they please
Insects on the wing, fluttering without a care
Whilst eyes appeared to blink, from their darkened lairs
Weasles, Stoats and Butterflies, play in blissful spy
Red Deer, Roe with their fawns, abound around I
Ripples in translucent pure, shadow from side to side
Then dart away at speed, at ease their bodies glide
I sit here in contemplation, as I recall this beautiful dream
I'm thankful to these three fairies, who were all that they seemed
They opened my eyes to see, those of a very young girl
In wonderment of this planet, that always set my heart in twirl
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
To be frank;
I don't need to play prank,
For your unspoken words,
To fly to my heart's nest like birds.
To be serious;
I don't have to be hilarious,
If truly true love don't run smooth,
A mould morales that soothe.
To be candid;
You won't want to be stranded,
Before you pray my caress,
That for free I coalesce.
To be real;
You barely should plea,
When attention digress off gaze,
Your eyes' roses drive me so craze.
To be best friend;
It doesn't have to depend,
On your girlhood status,
For virginity don't determines SHE callous.
To be successful;
He needs not woman so colorful,
Rather caught amidst feelings & readiness,
For forever in spite whatever for liveliness.
To be cultured;
There is no need to place morals acquired,
On the possible retriever of mistake,
That had born enough good by its ache.
To make mix-up stop;
There is need to stoop,
Not that low,
But let him know.
My wild Irish heart - what could it do
that March when into my sweet girlhood blew
euphoria to make my heart careen?
Oh, heart as fresh as clover - kelly green -
when zephyr brought its scent of something new.
The breeze caressed me; all was made askew,
for what it had been carrying was you!
Beneath my tender breast there throbbed, unseen,
my wild Irish heart.
You bridled it and then you pierced it through.
Yet wilder than before and tough it grew.
For in your aftermath, I was to glean
the lessons that my youth had not foreseen -
and evermore would pulse in me - now blue -
my wild Irish heart!
Originally For Sandy Ivy's Go Green - what green means to you? (new or old poem)Poetry Contest and now for Linda's Get your GREEN on!!! (Get into the spirit and Go Green) Happy March17 (old/new poems)Poetry Contest
Framed moments blink... a night of review
as snapshots glide on this mindscape
like tissue leaves bathed in reveries
before slumber’s pause.
Every motion, every image bursts
into tints of different life- stages.
Embers within me flash: the childhood
and adult shades encircling a moment; my essence
so ripe for more sequels yet to be born.
How voices of light enter the marrow
and wake to recite the stories
from girlhood fairs, early parental death,
aborted friendships to mature love’s flame: I inhale
dusky breath when musings fall
like twigs on the chest of languid memoirs.
Yet, the stars' follow my shadow,
healing brambles of thought...
a nightfall refreshed.
July Premiere Contest of Brian Strand
SISTER OF MY HEART
You are Beloved sister of my heart,
eleven years younger than me.
By age, when were a girl, just !
I was a grown up lady.
I have tough life with continuous tension
You cared for me, non-hesitant.
I took her as my best companion.
Since girlhood you are my assistant.
I am aggressive, but you are introvert.
We are opposite, by nature not same.
Yet you are capable to approach smart
to deal with my trouble and problem.
In my circle, I'm known to be most intelligent.
So many friends ask for my advice.
Yet as my personal advisor, you are competent.
You proceed in silence, but act nice.
I
12/25/15
When older siblings or younger step in First Place
Sponsor
Eve Roper