Childhood Poems
#childhood
Poems about childhood memories. A range of happy and painful recollections of childhood, upbringing and family, on the journey from birth to adolescence.
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My choice.
Vrindavan.
Krishna ~Sita ~gita.
Krishna ~Sita ~gita.
#childhood
#family
#birthday
38 reads
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Female Rage
She wasn’t strong enough to hit you
so i did.
so i did.
#childhood
95 reads
2 Comments
On My Mother Turning 30 in 1957
My mother ended
her 29th year tra-la-la-ing
on feckless gams
smack dab into the brick wall
of the big three-oh--
old at thirty? What fool
told her that?
Each night the laying on of hands,
the transsubstantiation
of Pond's Beauty Cream:
Hail, Lois, full of grease,
the lard is with you
backed by a money-back guarantee.
I remember how she wept
gathering...
her 29th year tra-la-la-ing
on feckless gams
smack dab into the brick wall
of the big three-oh--
old at thirty? What fool
told her that?
Each night the laying on of hands,
the transsubstantiation
of Pond's Beauty Cream:
Hail, Lois, full of grease,
the lard is with you
backed by a money-back guarantee.
I remember how she wept
gathering...
#motherhood
#childhood
#aging
86 reads
8 Comments
Trapped
Compressed within a fragile mind,
Lies a tender soul, hiding from the demons for the core beliefs they hold,
When day fades into night ,I hear the cries, I hear the screams, desperate to be cared for to be loved unconditionally,
deep within the darkness lives a little me, waiting for her adult self to finally set her free
Lies a tender soul, hiding from the demons for the core beliefs they hold,
When day fades into night ,I hear the cries, I hear the screams, desperate to be cared for to be loved unconditionally,
deep within the darkness lives a little me, waiting for her adult self to finally set her free
#childhood
#MentalHealth
#healing
98 reads
8 Comments
winter in Cascais
Winter in Cascais
This is a cold day, and bleak too, like a fish left behind
on the grass verge when the anglers go home for lunch
Sport fishing doesn't mean you want to eat the prizes
She is having salmon today at the cafe on the first floor of our building,
I, when a farm boy in Norway, was served salmon or trout every day except Sundays
will settle for a slice of ham, boiled potatoes and salad
Olive oil is used here in Portugal, but I think food tastes better with butter.
So, said the great chef and entertainer who hung himself
with a...
This is a cold day, and bleak too, like a fish left behind
on the grass verge when the anglers go home for lunch
Sport fishing doesn't mean you want to eat the prizes
She is having salmon today at the cafe on the first floor of our building,
I, when a farm boy in Norway, was served salmon or trout every day except Sundays
will settle for a slice of ham, boiled potatoes and salad
Olive oil is used here in Portugal, but I think food tastes better with butter.
So, said the great chef and entertainer who hung himself
with a...
#brother
#parent
#childhood
#separation
#responsibility
45 reads
0 Comments
bedtime stories
at age eleven, twelve,
I’d look forward to going to bed,
for the stories I’d make
up in my head
of which I was always
the hero, always the kid
who saved the girl, and then, only then,
could I sleep ..
I’d look forward to going to bed,
for the stories I’d make
up in my head
of which I was always
the hero, always the kid
who saved the girl, and then, only then,
could I sleep ..
#childhood
54 reads
2 Comments
Hands that Silently Shape Us
In life's tender dance, hands cradle,
From the mother's womb to a world so ample.
Guided by doctors, nurses' gentle swirl,
Loving hands of parents, life's first unfurl.
First steps taken, a constant gardener near,
Parents' hands shaping as I bloom, so dear.
Friends' distant light, a radiant glow,
Through life's tapestry, a gentle flow.
Teachers' hands weave wisdom's thread,
Crafting books, unlocking what's unsaid.
Nourishment offered, a sustenance divine,
Hands that feed both body and mind.
...
From the mother's womb to a world so ample.
Guided by doctors, nurses' gentle swirl,
Loving hands of parents, life's first unfurl.
First steps taken, a constant gardener near,
Parents' hands shaping as I bloom, so dear.
Friends' distant light, a radiant glow,
Through life's tapestry, a gentle flow.
Teachers' hands weave wisdom's thread,
Crafting books, unlocking what's unsaid.
Nourishment offered, a sustenance divine,
Hands that feed both body and mind.
...
#childhood
#learning
#philosophical
#SelfDiscovery
#PersonalGrowth
96 reads
2 Comments
Beliefs Are A Child's Dreams
a vow of faith in regret of what has transpired
moved me to weep
keening my heart did not know what to believe
I sigh within losing my breath
holding tight to my beliefs
I shook the feeling of loss
I desired something of substance
but nothing came forth
I cry for days of summer
from my youth
days slipped past turning into years
I ache with the knowing
but inside my grief there was an understanding
I traded innocence for wisdom
I crave deeply the secrets hidden
my faith shaken was my faith...
moved me to weep
keening my heart did not know what to believe
I sigh within losing my breath
holding tight to my beliefs
I shook the feeling of loss
I desired something of substance
but nothing came forth
I cry for days of summer
from my youth
days slipped past turning into years
I ache with the knowing
but inside my grief there was an understanding
I traded innocence for wisdom
I crave deeply the secrets hidden
my faith shaken was my faith...
#love
#childhood
#beauty #dreams
#beauty #dreams
137 reads
13 Comments
Love, birth, life,..., death
It all starts with your senses,
Lust or love at first sight, the tadpole has to go,
Eyes never lie, so powerful to make you fly,
Strong enough to shovel a bell in place of your heart.
Running back and forth in the mud,
Randomness makes the wanderers mad,
Spilling seed up and down, here and there,
Reserving your soul for the one right there.
Give, take the parts of your whole,
Share the energies to make the whole,
Creation is the power of the gods,
From love, energy that runs the world.
Pure heart and...
Lust or love at first sight, the tadpole has to go,
Eyes never lie, so powerful to make you fly,
Strong enough to shovel a bell in place of your heart.
Running back and forth in the mud,
Randomness makes the wanderers mad,
Spilling seed up and down, here and there,
Reserving your soul for the one right there.
Give, take the parts of your whole,
Share the energies to make the whole,
Creation is the power of the gods,
From love, energy that runs the world.
Pure heart and...
#birth
#relationships
#childhood
#death
#nostalgia
90 reads
0 Comments
My Loving Mum.
My loving Mum if short of cash
or needed a dish at a dash,
cooked an ancient delicate dish
(I'm drooling as I think of this)
of Yorkshire's gorgeous corned-beef hash!
Who brought this to a pre-teen bash
served with her silvered-spooned panache,
and got from doubters their sheepish kiss
My loving Mum!
Singer's sang of bangers and mash
or lauded stewing like goulash,
both fine for those merely peckish ...
or needed a dish at a dash,
cooked an ancient delicate dish
(I'm drooling as I think of this)
of Yorkshire's gorgeous corned-beef hash!
Who brought this to a pre-teen bash
served with her silvered-spooned panache,
and got from doubters their sheepish kiss
My loving Mum!
Singer's sang of bangers and mash
or lauded stewing like goulash,
both fine for those merely peckish ...
#mother
#childhood
#food #rhyming
#food #rhyming
49 reads
4 Comments
pacifique
juvenile poetess
her eyes light up mornings,
although she knows no mother;
in simple adornings,
she hungers for no other,
because she knows that deeper depths of love
are greater than swift eye or tongue can prove.
her sotto voce songs
entice the newborn daylight
to pacify the wrongs
that constitute her stage fright;
for, when the shades of night wither away,
she dares not swoon in daytime beaujolais.
her name is pacifique,
her nature eye-of-tempest;
her penchant pro-afrique,
her...
her eyes light up mornings,
although she knows no mother;
in simple adornings,
she hungers for no other,
because she knows that deeper depths of love
are greater than swift eye or tongue can prove.
her sotto voce songs
entice the newborn daylight
to pacify the wrongs
that constitute her stage fright;
for, when the shades of night wither away,
she dares not swoon in daytime beaujolais.
her name is pacifique,
her nature eye-of-tempest;
her penchant pro-afrique,
her...
#strength
#courage
#childhood
#Africa
#poverty
104 reads
0 Comments
Aunt June
A poor old dingbat lady of the church
who came to visit mom, when I was young:
her teeth on the nightstand Polident perch
tumbler dunked in brief freedom from the tongue.
Last I heard a stroke claimed her, flesh and ghost,
and that she had fallen into a ditch.
But memories are an echo necrosed
like her white cotton bookmark tatting stitch
verse and chapter worn and bond leather bare
on the bible next to those burbling teeth.
But I did not know it; not then; not there;
or long after her casket was beneath ...
who came to visit mom, when I was young:
her teeth on the nightstand Polident perch
tumbler dunked in brief freedom from the tongue.
Last I heard a stroke claimed her, flesh and ghost,
and that she had fallen into a ditch.
But memories are an echo necrosed
like her white cotton bookmark tatting stitch
verse and chapter worn and bond leather bare
on the bible next to those burbling teeth.
But I did not know it; not then; not there;
or long after her casket was beneath ...
#childhood
#family
#memories #MentalHealth
#memories #MentalHealth
91 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Childhood Poems