www.PoemsAbout.com

     Home | Contact Us

Poems On / About CHILDHOOD  1/31/2015 4:33:17 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.     

My Golden Days

My golden days:
===================
By gone are those lovely days
Who left me away many a years.
Being under more pressure now -
More and more I remember them.
With tearful eyes and heart burn -
I do miss those fairy days,
My childhood...those golden days –
Within the nature in abundance.

Singing, dancing and playing so free -
In the nature with mud and dusts.
Roaming freely in the village paths –
In the meadows under the blue sky.
Being drenched in those rainy days –
Floating paper boats in the streamlets.
Merrily, ran with the butterflies –
Along the aisles in the paddy fields.
My childhood...those golden days –
Within the nature in abundance.

Sitting idle under the mango tree
Near the lotus - pond in the summer noon.
The white ducks, floating in that lotus pond –
Kingfisher, quietly waiting for it’s catch.
I could listen to a feeble flute -
Might be played by some shepherd from remote.
My childhood...those golden days –
Within the nature in abundance.

Don’t know even – quietly when -
Those golden days are lost.
No more, I can see those lovely fairy days.
Now I’m swirling in the urban life
And in the shackles of concreted four walls –
Caught between the sky scrapers and highways -
And thus in a speedy fast life.,
I’m drowned in the modern life in the parties and nightclubs -
In this vicious fast life - we run round the clock,
Can not hear the cuckoos coos or the cocks’ morning crows.
My childhood...those golden days –
Within the nature in abundance.


=============================
Amitava (20.10.2013)
 
Amitava Sur

Read more poems from Amitava Sur >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  326.     

Childhood

Childhood, mine was nevertheless sweet and sunny childhood,
Though with overbearing clouds of chide, yet with its careless, thoughtless air,
It flourished and bloomed like a tangled wildwood,
Which never got guidance and the faience of a training hand of care.

In the shade of stern haughty life was springing all around me
In spite of rebuke I was glad to know, and quick to learn;
Asking questions about the boundary of the world around; land and sea
Such blissful days; born each morning and follow the sun in its orbit turn.

Who loves not again the childhood joyous revel,
Scanning summer dusty roads and leaping lightly on the lawn,
Breathing the scent of orchards and chase the wind up the knoll, along the level,
Free and graceful as a playful calf, as a nimble fawn

And yet what had happened to me was not what it is nature
Not, nurturing, nor the usual, expected giving to the little dears
The joy within me gave strength of limb, and healthful features,
For the toil of events and obstacles of coming years.

Go tell to him who chides a child with terror,
He who stops a child play, and stills its song,
Tell him, he not alone commits an error,
But a great moral and heinous inerasable wrong.

Father is to give the child he has born room to play
And let him live active life with no defect;
Never, never break a child spirit gay
Curb it only to direct and re-direct

No one could stop or dam my life flowing river,
Who would think it would cease to flow?
Ha, Onward it must go forever -
No one was there to teach it where to go.

The memories of Childhood is a fountain welling,
I can trace its channel in the sand,
And its currents within me, spreading, swelling,
Will revive the withered any morbid mind or desert land.



Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
 
Nero CaroZiv

Read more poems from Nero CaroZiv >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  327.     

Childhood Revisited

memories of childhood...
such a wonderful, hazy, warm feeling,
special memories, filled with love
come welling up, and send my senses reeling,

aromatic fragrance, wafting up from the kitchen,
aroma of my mothers cooking,
father getting ready for work,
how handome he is looking,

I'm ready for school., hair plaited,
clutch my little, sisters hand tightly
bags perched securely on our backs
and off we go, skipping lightly,

lessons and studies, dilligently done,
supervised by dad, but always fun,
carefree, happy times were those
one could do, what one chose....

the familiar house, and the close kinship
so many friends, and closely knit friendship,
no cares, no worries, they were not for us,
only love and protection, and a special fuss,

what wonderful years I can never forget
a happy childhood is an important asset
and now we are grown........
only memories are left....

when we are feeling down, or nostalgic,
just go back to those magical years...
relive those times, that sparkling innocence,
that time, devoid of from doubt and fears

oh childhood...so quickly did you fly
your very memory makes us sigh...
and remember.and smile, and feel content
for the Godgiven wonderful years, so well spent...

oh childhood, I hope I have been a good mother,
what I learnt from you, I hope I have given another,
a treasure for my children, to recall, and to cherish
a treasure to revel in and sustain, when we perish.
 
Arti Chopra

Read more poems from Arti Chopra >>>
   
 

   
   
 

  328.     

The Eye

To E. E. Cummings

I see the horses and the sad streets
Of my childhood in an agate eye
Roving, under the clean sheets,
Over a black hole in the sky.

The ill man becomes the child,
The evil man becomes the lover;
The natural man with evil roiled
Pulls down the sphereless sky for cover.

I see the gray heroes and the graves
Of my childhood in the nuclear eye-
Horizons spent in dun caves
Sucked down into the sinking sky.

The happy child becomes the man,
The elegant man becomes the mind,
The fathered gentleman who can
Perform quick feats of gentle kind.

I see the long field and the noon
Of my childhood in the carbolic eye,
Dissolving pupil of the moon
Seared from the raveled hole of the sky.

The nice ladies and gentlemen,
The teaser and the jelly-bean
Play cockalorum-and-the-hen,
When the cool afternoons pour green:

I see the father and the cooling cup
Of my childhood in the swallowing sky
Down, down, until down is up
And there is nothing in the eye,

Shut shutter of the mineral man
Who takes the fatherless dark to bed,
The acid sky to the brain-pan;
And calls the crows to peck his head.
 
Allen Tate

Read more poems from Allen Tate >>>
   
 
 
<< 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