www.PoemsAbout.com

     Home | Contact Us

Poems On / About CHILDHOOD  11/26/2014 11:16:41 PM
Search For Poems & Poets:
POEMS ON:
• alone
• america
• angel
• anger
• baby
• beach
• beautiful
• beauty
• believe
• brother
• butterfly
• car
• change
• chicago
• childhood
• cinderella
• courage
• crazy
• dance
• daughter
• death
• depression
• dream
• family
• fire
• freedom
• friend
• funny
• future
• girl
• god
• graduation
• greed
• haiku
• hair
• happiness
• happy
• heaven
• hero
• home
• hope
• house
• husband
• identity
• joy
• june
• kiss
• laughter
• life
• lonely
• loss
• lost
• love
• lust
• marriage
• memory
• mirror
• money
• mother
• murder
• music
• nature
• night
• paris
• passion
• peace
• pink
• poverty
• power
• racism
• rain
• red
• remember
• respect
• river
• rose
• school
• sick
• sister
• sky
• sleep
• soldier
• song
• sonnet
• spring
• star
• success
• summer
• sun
• swimming
• sympathy
• teacher
• time
• together
• travel
• trust
• truth
• war
• work
 

 

Best Poems About / On CHILDHOOD
 
 
 
<< prev. page

Page: 1 30 40 50 60 70 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 93

next page >>

 
   
 

  325.     

Tale of Imagination

Beside Imagination say Childhood
As the sun bowed down to Freedom's Moon.
They knew they could - and they would -
Endure the night of June.

Imagination smiled blissfully
Turned to Childhood and said -
'You are my cause - my life.
Without you I'd be dead.'

Childhood replied like light -
'Soon I'll be gone but you will stay.
Three months to live is what I have -
That's all I have - they say.'

The two friends sat in silence then
The wind brushed their straight faces
How could either know just when
Fate would take their places?

They wandered down the empty beach
Let the chilly water lick their feet
Darkness enveloped them each
On their way to their retreat.

They finally arrived at the end
As they stood by Age's grave
Joyfully they met their friend
Named 'Destiny' who would save

Them from living apart.
Imagination turned her youthful eyes
To Childhood and her soft heart.
They joined hands and got a blissful rise.

Together they'd live no matter what
Or how or why or when
They'd live together - breathe together
What Joy would join them then!
 
Amy Marie

Read more poems from Amy Marie >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  326.     

Again and Again

poetry in progress

childhood days are roses and thorns
they comprise memories light as
the roll of one marble as well as
heavy as a bag full of the blue white
gleaming rolly pollies sitting so
quietly in the old store room

childhood is full of schemes
marbles - we made sure the other boys
are emptied of theirs
kites - we made sure the string of
their kites snap, kite flying away
like a helpless chinese princess
pigeons - one was downed by us so that
its mate waited for it one whole day
on the precipice of a roof
one memory i wish to tear to shreds
dragonflies - in my hands they ate
each other up

childhood is festooned with lessons
both inside and outside the classroom
with the two legged, four legged, the hornbills,
doggies, and those with no legs but then
morphed into the best hoppers - frogs, toads
and grasshoppers to teach us never
to underestimate the poorest of anything
arithmetics, music, football or paintballs

childhood lane
a ball floating and sinking
a patch here and there, a lake, a stream,
a river - so many fishes had splashed
their tails and now only concretes
to make the memory jump

a cry, a lane, a walk, a pet, a church,
a school, mother's hand holding so tight,
shaking, and still elucidating her
discomforts, and those yelps of puppies
there, here, here there we had more than
five doggies all those years

winding through there, here
a range of sepia, black and white, chromes,
working themselves into an abstract
marbles rolling onto empty canvas -
light and ever so desirable these bonuses
at children's alleyway dates
- rolling ever still rolling
the drive that reels and roils the mind
going back is the same as moving forward
there is never a point in time we can rest on
 
john tiong chunghoo

Read more poems from john tiong chunghoo >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  327.     

Childhood Revisits Me

The childhood days of my life so gone, unforgettable days
The childish fights in the end I sure did get my way
Innocence and freedom the world seemed to be fair
With happiness and no worries not a single care
Love was pure, always there and I do so clearly recall
The many celebrations parties endless just on a call
When sorrow knocked on my door came in gifts a plenty
Smiles that never did fade away and with kindness a many
The freedom of pictures, the many famous stars on my wall
The fridge with chewing gum. chocolates and that's not all
Collecting butterflies and fish, picking flowers for my hall
The many impish doings laid for the brothers to trip and fall
Sore knees, sprained ankles and wrists playing hide and seek
Stung by bees and the catapult by the boys we didn't freak
The cycle race. cricket matches, fun and frolic it was till into bed
Enjoying mum's pastries and cakes it was always a grand spread
Our favorites never denied as we each had a special taste
Always planned with dιcor, love and care it never went waste.
Childhood dreams dancing on the streets making great friends
Breezy beaches, watching the trains, childhood days soon it did end
Memories many, the chats with dad, mum, siblings runs through my mind
As the days of my childhood visits me my eyes wet and I go blind! ! !
 
shirani ibrahim

Read more poems from shirani ibrahim >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  328.     

Our Mother's Head Scarf

When they visit us at night,
Never do they knock at our doors,
They just break them open to enter.
Dragging our fathers by their Beards,
Pulling away the headscarf of our Mothers,
They ask us to stand naked before each other,
shame sobs,
mutual relations get strewn….

What if they hide their faces?
We identify them
from the pages of some old Books,
From the childhood memory of time spent together in the playground,
From the chair lying in the office,
From the shared swing rides of childhood,
And From amongst the students of the classroom.
Snakes just creep and move in our childhood playground.

The man sitting in the chair in our office,
looks like YAMA (The lord of death) now.
The rope of our childhood swing too has burnt itself in the blaze.
Sometimes under that dark cloth covering their faces,
We see the face of that boy as well,
The boy whom we had taught
When he entered the school.

When they come,
they just drag any person,
Drag him far away from his house,
Drag him away from the family,
And later for all to see,
Nothing more than his dead body hanging from an
Apple tree,
The body dumped near some crossing,
With their names engraved on the back
Before killing,
Names engraved in the language of terror,
Written in words of fire,
Written with red hot iron rods.

When they visit us at night,
Never do they knock at our doors,
They just break them open to enter.
They come to trample
our culture,
our honour
and
our relations
underneath their feet ……………..
(Hindi Poem -English translation by Autar Mota)
—
 
Nida Nawaz

Read more poems from Nida Nawaz >>>
   
 
 
<< prev. page

Page: 1 30 40 50 60 70 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 93

next page >>

 

 
BEST POEMS:  (Click on a topic to list and read the poems)
• angel poems
• 
beautiful poems
• 
death poems
• 
friend poems
• girl poems
• 
home poems
• 
hope poems
• 
kiss poems
• life poems
• 
loss poems
• 
love poems
• 
music poems
• nature poems
• 
rain poems
• 
school poems
• 
sex poems
• soldier poems
• 
summer poems
• 
sun poems
• 
war poems
 
(c) Poems are the property of their respective owners.
All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge.. 
Contact Us | About Us | Copyright notice | Privacy statement

Poems On / About CHILDHOOD