Kids Lyric Poems | Examples
These Kids Lyric poems are examples of Lyric poems about Kids. These are the best examples of Lyric Kids poems written by international poets.
To the tune of My Favorite Things by Rodgers and Hammerstein...
Pop-ups and wheelies and brodies and skids,
A hand-me-down junker to play with the big kids -
We'd play Red Baron, though I was a tyke -
Now I remember my favorite bikes.
While good transportation, it was, for me,
I wanted a Schwinn Stingray under the tree.
Candy apple-red - what kid wouldn't like!?
Now, I remember my favorite bikes.
Freedom and speed, and the feel of the wind -
My ten-speed became this boy's best friend,
No offense to Jeff, or Alan or Mike -
but I remember my favorite bikes.
When old age brings
Things I dislike
and I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite bikes,
and then I don't feel so bad.
Daffodils blooming,
Robins tweeting in trees,
Pollen is looming,
Sky falling like seas.
Atlanta’s warming -
Bless it’s peachy heart.
Isn’t it charming,
The chill will not part.
Can’t put my clothes away.
Winter keeps springing up.
My woollen socks sashay.
Taunt of sweaters: “Wuz up?”
Kids hop, skip and jump,
The joy of April,
Let go of the slump -
Could be they’re grateful…
Tender leaves unfold,
Sun is inviting,
But on the threshold,
The cold’s still biting.
Can’t put my clothes away
Winter keeps springing up
My woollen socks sashay
Taunt of sweaters: “Wuz up?”
4/8/2023
to the tune of Home on the Range
In the woods, in the gloam
There’s a muttering gnome
Like his mind, he’s wandered away
And he should be interred
Yes, the thought has occurred
But the jailers would not last a day
Big daddy’s deranged
He’s losing it more every day
He makes up strange words
And it all sounds absurd
But the kids do not care anyway
—————
Some of the many happy verses Vivian
was subjected to singing and walking in the woods.
I was dirty I was wash in the blood
I was ignore, abandon and hated, Jesus gave me love
Ridiculed ripped and torn
Humanity haters made me wish I was not born
O' but yes there is
Oh! Bless there be
A better for me always
I was poor monetarily,
No place to lay down my head no really
Birth burst into this dad gone abandoned us
He had many, many other girls, adulterous adulterer
Other kids had full-time stay at home dads where's mine
O but where is mine
My Father in heaven
And now mine better here and now, always
My Father got better days for me now
My Father got better days for me now
My Father got better days for me now
9/14/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 9/14/ 2022
A Day in The Life Of Shirlene
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
Stroking her hair was the morning sun,
Early rising, just to grub her chickens;
Time is scant for getting all things done,
So, throughout the day her step quickens.
It's do the laundry, then tidy the house,
While seeking time for a run to the store;
If things should slip she feels like a louse,
And then, its pick up the kids before four;
Her smart phone acts as an aide of sort,
Where stored is appointments for her day.
Keeping her abreast of times to report,
But the unexpected, at times, always delay.
She studies the time and finding it tricky,
Hurriedly plans an evening meal to eat;
But then in a flash she calls her man Ricky,
Requesting takeout since both are just beat.
Senses
By: Tom Wright
2/11/98
Rustling Aspen leaves,
the only sound.
Against a gentle breeze
none other is found.
Lord, you've granted me
a keener sense to hear.
Since birth I'm made not to see
yet of sounds I've no fear.
I often feel the grass.
Then imagine how it looks
at times in class
and what green is like in books.
I read but tiny bumps,
Braille, is my printed page.
In life, taking my lumps
from cruel kids, as I age.
But Lord, I'll not complain
nor wallow in the dumps.
For that from which I refrain
cannot compare to your triumphs.
Dog Days Of Summer
By: Tom Wright
9/8/98
Intense heat,
causing sparsely foliated trees
to prematurely brown.
Hot southerly breeze
burning at my nostrils
and Mother saying,
son, don't pick.
A five cent Nehi Orange
from Shue's Stand
split three ways
would be good,
and no, my hand
won't go in those Fruit jars.
make Norma wash,
she has smaller hands.
I'll rinse, It’s harder,
Tiny black harvest bugs
floating in the air
from a nearby Oat field.
I'm itching all over.
A molting dog chasing Its tail.
Wormy?
No, he just sees Mr. Williams,
the ice man.
Mama,
Joe hit me.
Kids behave yourselves!
Zarker Street was treeless,
front porches of houses
reaching the sidewalk,
not a square inch of grass
to welcome even a weed.
The polio ambulance, like a
a hungry animal, idled
In front of Ronnie Dasher’s house,
his brother being carted to the curb,
bound for an iron lung.
All the kids, having run inside,
watched from behind the windows.
“Mama, mama will I die?
I talked to him last week.”
How do you get away, get away?
In Miss Laken’s voice studio
at the corner of Twentieth,
a soprano student yearns
to reach the higher branches
of a more capacious garden.
I had saved a teensy itsy bitsy tiny piece of myself
To show off to those superior, smart, artistic kids at school.
I was planning to wow them with my creative prowess,
When they heard my piece, they would really and truly drool.
The formerly hidden, sweetest part of myself was almost ready to share,
But I was so cowed by the vibrant, dramatic story of another.
I could not bring out my piece, so I hid her way back in there.
I nurtured her all day long, and took her home to express to my mother.
Mommy was on the phone, and nodded for me to play,
So I took my little piece, and we scuttled far away.
I placed her way back down hard inside my heart, with gentle tears.
There she stayed hidden until I discovered art, for many, many years.
Sadly, my generation may have been the last to grasp the
blast of outdoor adventure play for as long as childhood stayed.
Eager anticipation took our feet from breakfast table to door
where sunshiny wealth lent growing health while we explored.
Come lunch, dinner or dark, and we’d be home on time’s mark.
From mud pies and dirt mountains to frogs and daisy chains
to sitting logs, chalk marks and red rover, red rover games,
we created, imagined, questioned, practiced and acted.
All adults in the neighborhood were bound by kids so active.
I prefer my memories to today’s play with electronic gadgets.
TELL HER I LOVE HER---
I see you at school today;
I often wondered, sometimes prayed;
Do you think of me;
And could I even be an interest to you;
A love lost teen in this complicated world;
Wanting only for you to be my girl;
So shy am I,
So shy am I;
So I ask the cool kids, I ask your older brother;
Tell her, tell her I love her;
I told my friends right away;
She's a sweet young thing;
I'd wish she'd wear my class ring;
And maybe when we're grown and older;
Trade it in for a diamond engagement ring;
I'm a love lost teen in this complicated world;
Wanting only for you to be my girl;
So shy am I,
So shy am I;
So I ask the cool kids, I ask your older brother;
Tell her, tell her I love her;
6/27/74
Written words by James Edward Lee & Micheal Block©1974, 2018
There is no end to a cold war
But nobody thinks about that
North Korea has a warhead
And is run by a foolish young brat
We kicked ourselves in our ass so hard
Everyone is wearing a new hat
and why would any one care for
a country lead by a lying old rat
Are we all lost in a pipe dream
That won't end without a loud scream
Our enemies picked who we vote for
We don't learn very much from a war
Our children are shot down in our own schools
as our congress gets paid by the NRA
making everyone of us fools
Maybe if it was one of there own kids
Assault rifles will all go away
Somebody made me a sandwich
A sandwich, a sandwich
Somebody made me a sandwich
I ate it in twenty-five seconds.
I nearly choked on a sandwich
A sandwich, a sandwich
I nearly choked on a sandwich
Cuz I ate in in twenty-five seconds.
I was nearly killed by a sandwich
A sandwich, a sandwich
I was nearly killed by a sandwich
When I ate it in twenty-five seconds.
Cadence calls collective clans
ricochet playful katydid
not crackle his crocodile skin.
Crazy kids combine their fares
for riding rickety RinTinTins
out zipping their yipping files.
Corny crackers crash their lines
lickety slippery splat
finishing race far much too soon
before fine ladies grow fat.
Cadence cries corrective crams
flippety flying frying fins
falling their crowns upside down
while mothers cry for their sins.
The mud slide back in eighty six
Took out half my farm
And the war that lit up 69
Is where I Left one arm
My wife and kids have left me
To part's unknown, somewhere
So I sit here all alone
While losing all my hair
chorus
Now you can see, what my attitude should be
But instead of mulling around
I get picked up, when I'm down
As I quote that little phase, that tickles me
"C'est La vie"
My truck was repo-ed yesterday
My dog and cat ran off
My old friends all moved away
And often I feel lost
chorus
Now you'll agree, just how happy could I be
When my world has gone to hell
I just get up, where I fell
And whisper those sweet words in ecstasy
"C'est La Vie"