Long Toddler Poems
Long Toddler Poems. Below are the most popular long Toddler by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toddler poems by poem length and keyword.
No more than a toddler when I was,
Old enough on own that can when chill—
To play with siblings an option still,
Pleasure still to play with mother was.
‘Hay look Ma, where am I?’
Pretending when to hide
I'd stay close on her side,
A ruse to get her eye!
Earful of her sweet words, or any,
A touch of loving hands upon me;
It was no jealousy,
Nor sibling rivalry,
Well, a seed ah of love and well sown,
I still feel that love— a grandpa grown.
____________________________________
Musings from far | 13.03.2017 |
Poet’s Note:
1. There are certain toddler memories of the family, siblings, and of mother that remain fresh for long, long till one becomes a parent and even grandparent.
2. The poem is set in anapaest meter, lines are a combination of three and two-foot meter.
The Surreal Narrative Poem
The reminiscence of a dream
I am writing to become a writer one day.
I am writing in the hope that my little one will be reading these pieces one day.
I am writing in the hope that I will add value to this society one day.
I will add value to my kids’ lives.
The other day, I was in the middle of a zoom workshop.
Every meeting is virtual nowadays.
In the middle of the meeting, I heard a knock at the door.
I muted the meeting and opened the door. I saw a lady.
She was smiling. She was checking her mailbox.
“My boy knocked at your door.” She was telling, smiling.
Then I saw her boy. A tiny little toddler without any shirt.
He was mouthful with a smile.
“Glad to meet you, little buddy.” I shook his hand.
I came back to my meeting. My virtual meeting.
I do not keep a diary. I do not have a tendency to track the alarm.
But at that very moment, I heard the familiar music of an ice-cream truck.
I cannot even tell how happy I felt, for that moment, for those ice creams, and for that boy. Although those two might never interconnect.
There is no way to make sure of dreams. if one reaches the destination safely or not. Characters in dreams do not exist, those dreams only float around.
But what is left is a feather like happiness or sad feelings after waking up.
The reminiscence of a dream in the realities of life.
Yet, we do need to dream.
Dream, the very core imagination of the subconscious mind!
I wore all red to your white wedding
Holding your picture like my grandma's antiques
Like poison ivy in the forest, my bloom makes you shiver
Plucking soft feathers from my angel wings
The flowers she gifted you, they'll die one day
Wilting like a poor, dehydrated human
Your mother giggles when you mention me again
"Oh, she was sweet! Shame she had to go."
I didn't have to do anything, ain't it strange?
Opposite of what you said that cool Wednesday night
When I asked about the pink smudge against your collar
Like a scar from childhood that never faded
I clutched my jewelry, watching as you said vows
'Till death do us part, same words you uttered to me
She blushes redder than my lipstick and dress
And you share a feather-soft kiss
Like those times you caressed my rough skin
After hours of staring in the mirror
Like a toddler searching for their mother
And once it was over, I laughed
Vibrations escaped from behind my teeth like water
Your father-in-law sighed and shook his head
"How much is this dowry again?"
He whispered to his wife, watching like an eagle
As his daughter's mascara smudged like paint
I walked over to the room's corner, arms swinging
Dug my acrylics into their most prized possession like a rabid animal
Buttercream journeyed from my lips to nose
Grabbed the bottle beside it, pulled the cork like a fire alarm
Champagne bubbled down my chest
And once I was finished, my heels clicked against the ground
I ran off to my car like a wanted fugitive
And drove into the pinkish-orange sunset
The sky was its canvas
The Canvas
She painted her emotions with a dark brush
My heart sunk into her canvas
Transported to an endless sadness
She greets me there with a smile
Her light not visible from the other side
"Come" she says
"There are many rooms to explore"
She skips along yesterday's corridors
I follow in tentative foot falls
She looks back, "Here it is, this is where we'll begin."
Through the door we go in
In an instant she disappears
I wonder was she ever here
Then a silent voice whispers in my ear
"Watch and listen, all will unfold"
I watch in silence; my heart feels cold
A mother in a hospital bed
Two baby girls
One of them dead
Tears of joy now sad instead
She whispers "do you see?? Happy Birthday, little me."
I hear her giggle in another room
So, I walk through another door,
a toddler alone on the floor
Mom sitting, at a table with a drink
Little girl starts crying
Mom doesn't even blink
The scene changes
A parade of men
Mom needs her lovers
over and over again
In the night
When mom's asleep
Into the girl’s room, the demons creep
On the bed, there she lays
She leaves her mind
While the bad man plays
I scream
I want him to stop
Her so helpless
Him there on top
The whisper returns "There is nothing to do,
I want you to know the source of my blue."
I say, "please I can take no more"
With that she says, "there is just one more door."
She is back, she takes my hand
I walk through a door to her promised land
The darkness, is all stripped away
She is young once more, it's bright as day
She turns and smiles, " I'm okay,
long ago I learned to pray."
I said "I do not understand,
how could he let that happen to you?
Is he not to blame for your world of blue?"
She looks again with knowing smile
"You will understand in a while.
One day all answers he will reveal,
best understood when you learn to kneel."
From her canvas
My mind wishes release
Flowing into my heart, an ancient peace
On humbled footsteps, my journey within
A world of shadows, canvas thin
I see beyond sadness
I search within
This dark picture,
brushed stroked on my mind
Her life touched by sin,
Is now redefined
No longer is she broken
I watch her light grow
She says "I'm okay,
it's time for you to go.
By: Richard Lamoureux
Chicago, I forgot to say thank you!
I forgot to say thank you for my successful birth .
With the nuns at St. Mary's, all dressed in white,
Who provided my Mother with comfort on that
birth night.
I forgot to thank the floor to ceiling mirror.
In that awesome Armitage Avenue flat.
For being there, watching me,
reflecting my toddler antics!
I forgot to thank the Chicago sidewalks,
Upon which I jumped rope and played.
And yes, I cried when I fell~
Bless you, Bucktown days!
I forgot to say thank you to Saint Mary's Church,
Where bells tolled daily.
A reminder that God indeed, ruled this earth.
I forgot to say thank Harold,the candy store owner.
For the jewels of of sweets,
Behind shiny glass cases.
Oh, boy what a treat.
I forgot to say not only thank
you, but I love you,
To all my Bucktown childhood friends.
To Joanie, sister of my heart!
To Rita, Gloria, my beloved
Cousin Maggie,and more.
Plus all my relatives so loving,
Who came to our huge
apartment over my Father's
corner store!
Memories, that made me who
I am today.
Gratefully,
Panagiota
June 24,2019
8:30am PST
As growing toward arrived full stature
Of mine physical or mental maturity cured
Childhood toward adulthood fully such Grown
---Growing up
~
In developing ageing maturing
So evolving in planted seed
While blooming, flowering, ripening
Getting on, getting along, progressing growing up breed
Burgeoning, blossoming, flourishing
Cross bred a story, placed in history
Energy, then a seed planted growing such
I am growing up
~
Spirit bourgeoning unfolding advancing
I am energy, spirit body, toddler, boy teen now man
Graying, greying grown yet still I am
---Growing up
11/9/23
For Growing Up Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Just like his custom, he sparks to frolic in the encompassing.
But when he tumbled to get back home, the frenzy was beginning.
Ryan 5 fell under a 30 meter well, a ton like Joseph.
Individuals of the small town hurried to the kid are harsh.
Horribly, the interaction was bare from the temptation.
The town is amply a harsh region of the mountain location.
Morocco's tale goes spreading out via media focal points and dozers.
Ryan was as yet alive twenty hours after the event did meanderers.
Backhoes burrow, and a mass wishes the kid's strain lives on TV.
Each endeavor to assuage Ryan since today has been phony.
Heros utilized a video phone to witness the child in the well.
Giving oxygen, food, and water keeps up with his sharpness in hell.
The errand will carry on as expected with lights, and cams turned on.
Past dozers, Ryan's parents are alleviated by individuals thereupon.
Heaven's (to Betsy) dis allow
wing danger fields vow
wing to protect and bless
beasts and children – endow
wing inadequate livingsocial
egads, fore-fend, now
a days such simultaneous show
whirring, or bath,
asper in above - flow
whir a sad comment
aery on humanity,
when one cannot,
but be faulted bestow
wing unforgettable sibling
camaraderie making
a splash together -
holy cow
"big brother" watching quickly
contacted and how,
hastening to doorstep
child welfare pow
were fully advocating
(nee demanding)
legal custodian to bow
with demands...,or else...
get locked up in tow
handcuffed if in sub
ordinate or cause row
dee ness regard
ding custody of
minor, no go
even though dependents
only freshly crow
wing out of toddler
call robin hood,
to help post bail
necessitating scraping dough
such nonchalant
activity, would grow
into flagrant sexual abuse know
tub bull lee i.e. pedophilia poe
tent shill strongly predicted,
especially ho...ho...ho
Christmas holidays,
where queen tush
scent shill average Don Joe
Jacob Jingleheimer
Schmidt sits on Santa's lap,
(a veritable stranger),
this practice oddly enough
acceptable to status quo
ordinarily kids
should think "whoa"
upon being accosted, confronted,
detained...and NOT slow
to run the other way pronto!
Aerial dribs and drabs, a sidewalk canvas
As a toddler chases bubbles her mother blows
from confectionary soap,
Fluttering fluidity in spring air
Child's laugh, a mosaic of innocence, discovery and glee
Her run after each globe, unsteady, twisted gravity
Her footwork shifts in warfare wobble, no sinkhole falling
Her reach to pop each bubble, circus kerfuffle, giddy,
giggles that swing like a trapeze artist,
while a mother retrieves
unexpected memory
shards of recovery
that coat a guarded self
Neverland jester, a child's guileless glow,
routing air baubles
unconstrained by space,
untethered from fear,
avoiding a fall off the planet
to limited mobility
For sometimes life's march
doesn't start on time
Poem revised: April 19, 2021
As a toddler, I saw you
A gold ball drawing close
You weren't material to be grabbed
More like spirit asking for form
You drew near
Sat upon my lap
I pushed you away
Remembering
God don't like "nasty girls"
After I arose
From the bed of demise
I heard voices telling me
YOU...are lord of the flies
Attracting violence, pure evil
Signals of harm
Swarm, feasting on waste
He won't hear you
Your voice...tastes
.......bitter
Years of confirmation
Brought jutted execution
Movement was fragmented
Memory, like smudged glass
I was the problem
That could never be solved
A constant argument
Aching to be resolved
That blanket felt heavy
But the cold bit harder
I will leave....
AWOL.....AWOL....our soldier is about to go AWOL
You showed up, again
Your form, unchanged
I know you
You are the essence
Of my assigned name
This time, no resistance
You came to reveal
Not destroy, maim, kill
But I couldn't hold you
So, you walked alongside me
As I saw the mirrors appear
...then fade
Today, you came to me
I saw you, fully formed
So many years, we have been together
With me citing every reason
You could never want to join with me
But at this moment
I say, "YES! A million times YES!"
I know you
You know me
You are the TRUTH
LOVE had to hide
...until we could resonate
Thank you
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-25-2025