Best Childhood Poems

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
...

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
...

Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
Pudgy hands bunched on layered hips
Where bones idle under years of fatback
And lima beans.
...

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
...

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.
...

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
...

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
...

Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood,
With its careless, thoughtless air,
Like the verdant, tangled wildwood,
Wants the training hand of care.
...

Suddenly, from all the green around you,
something-you don't know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the window,
in total silence. From the nearby wood
...

It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,
for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely -and why?
...

And sometimes I am sorry when the grass
Is growing over the stones in quiet hollows
And the cocksfoot leans across the rutted cart-pass
That I am not the voice of country fellows
...

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
...

How he sleepeth! having drunken
Weary childhood's mandragore,
From his pretty eyes have sunken
Pleasures, to make room for more- -
...

Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn?
...

How advanced they are, these children of the future,
Like small adults, within their tiny frames,
They grow up in a fast 'speed driven' culture,
Where 'learning pressures' change their kind of games,
...

The green village, the colored city, the ever familiar locality
Each path, tree, house, turn, each native I have left behind
But creepers, hedges have entangled with my leg and hand
The green crops fields, green hills, fruit trees, call me back,
...

Long ago, I was wounded. I lived
to revenge myself
against my father, not
for what he was--
...

Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew
Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two
The candy man, the candy man can
...

As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood's dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.
...

When I die choose a star
and name it after me
that you may know
I have not abandoned
...

You don't have to go to the dale
To find her playing with a butterfly;
She would hide from you
As she is young and shy;
...

Lo, now four other act upon the stage,
Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age:
The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature
...

We find out the heart only by dismantling what
the heart knows. By redefining the morning,
we find a morning that comes just after darkness.
We can break through marriage into marriage.
...

As we are so wonderfully done with each other
We can walk into our separate sleep
On floors of music where the milkwhite cloak of childhood lies
...

I

My childhood's home I see again,
And sadden with the view;
...

When we were girl and boy together,
We toss'd about the flowers
And wreath'd the blushing hours
Into a posy green and sweet.
...

A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With dark green needled memories
Of childhood dreams and mysteries
Wrapped present-like in front of me.
...

Far, far away is my village!
Where fireflies of my childhood
Still glow in thick folliage
Of Pipal trees.
...

Speak to me, aching heart: what
Ridiculous errand are you inventing for yourself
Weeping in the dark garage
With your sack of garbage: it is not your job
...

She is all there.
She was melted carefully down for you
and cast up from your childhood,
...

Listen here. I've never played it safe
in spite of what the critics say.
...

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
...

Somewhere within dwells the soul of a boy
And childhood dreams of Illinois
....With thoughts.....of home again
...

461

A Wife—at daybreak I shall be—
Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me?
...

I sit and look at photographs of relations that used to be,
Some I remember from childhood, some related more distantly,
Their faces often smiling, or serious and stern,
Some looking very peaceful and gentle in their turn.
...

A word will fill the little heart
With pleasure and with pride;
It is a harsh, a cruel thing,
That such can be denied.
...

I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
...

It was childhood enchantment in the form of song
Which first awoke in me, the rainbow-lover
Entranced as ‘Dorothy’ sang of
Her wish to someday fly far over
...

...

My tree will know it all
the tree of my childhood
with the endless branches
and the many whispers
...

loneliness
his childhood
warms him up
...

God, make my words a firefly
God, make my conversation a butterfly
God, make my footsteps a path
God, make me fragrance of flowers
...

I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes;
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
...

Tyrannical, horrible, traumatic, ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
That’s what, I’ll say-

Juvenescent childhood, as it flowed thro
...

You stay for a while beside me with your beauty young and rare,
Though your light limbs are as limber as the foal's that follows the mare;
...

A gentle soul once asked me here
to delete my Age and edit profile
I read it and just passed a smile
I do respect her but I ask:
...

(An Oath wrtitten during the Dawn Meditation)

Aiwaz! Confirm my troth with thee ! my will inspire
With secret sperm of subtle, free, creating Fire!
...

[NOTE: THIS POEM IS NOT TO BE USED ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY CONCENT. PLEASE USE THE LINKS IN MY BIOGRAPHY OR MESSAGES ON THIS SITE TO CONTACT ME. THANKS.]


I can't remember,
...

The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
...

There was an apple tree in the yard --
this would have been
forty years ago -- behind,
only meadows. Drifts
...

To be a childhood star
Knowing you've surpassed the bar
To see the moon beyond the sky
Totally sober and not high
...

A rose grows in the night
Lit beneath the diamond lights
Petals smooth in silken magic
Blossom crimson shaded fabric
...

Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
That things depart which never may return:
Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow,
Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to mourn.
...

I fear to love thee, Sweet, because
Love's the ambassador of loss;
White flake of childhood, clinging so
To my soiled raiment, thy shy snow
...

How my body blooms from every vein
more fragrantly, since you appeard to me;
look, I walk slimmer now and straighter,
and all you do is wait-:who are you then?
...

"Loss of mother is death of the child"
No compensation can make up the loss

All privileges of childhood are denied to him
...

The river below us:
nitrogen, phosphorous, petrochemicals,
dioxin from the paper mills,
a rich buffet of metals digested
...

my childhood was the time when i was innocent
when the world seemed to be fair
when my universe was around my toys
...

The steadfastness of generations of nobility
shows in the curving lines that form the eyebrows.
And the blue eyes still show traces of childhood fears
and of humility here and there, not of a servant's,
...

Childhood

There is a child inside
abandoned - for him
...

From the center of my heart, your many lost songs.
From the heart of one single tear.
I am lost like you both apart, one is beating.
Gone from our gentle childhood.
...

Being a kid was the best part
Childhood is the best part of a person's life
When it rained,
Just run outside and jump around everywhere,
...

I am a girl
Nothing more
Trying to tell the world
Not to close the door
...

The childhood is
Early part of lives
From two to
Eighteen years old,
...

As I stood in the courtyard
Of my ancestral house in Palakkad;
A sweet-scented breeze blew,
On my face, touching, caressing my whole being
...

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
...

There's nothing I can't find under there.
Voices in the trees, the missing pages
of the sea.
...

Before all the wondrous shows of the widespread space around him, what living, sentient thing loves not the all-joyous light -- with its colors, its rays and undulations, its gentle omnipresence in the form of the wakening Day? The giant-world of the unresting constellations inhales it as the innermost soul of life, and floats dancing in its blue flood -- the sparkling, ever-tranquil stone, the thoughtful, imbibing plant, and the wild, burning multiform beast inhales it -- but more than all, the lordly stranger with the sense-filled eyes, the swaying walk, and the sweetly closed, melodious lips. Like a king over earthly nature, it rouses every force to countless transformations, binds and unbinds innumerable alliances, hangs its heavenly form around every earthly substance. -- Its presence alone reveals the marvelous splendor of the kingdoms of the world.

Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world -- sunk in a deep grave -- waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with the ashes. -- The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?
...

There is a twisting knife
In your disturbed unhappy mind,
Those who don’t understand you,
Tell you to pull it out,
...

I am standing at your funeral
Ready to say good bye

I am standing here
...

That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
...

I travelled the old road every day, I took my fruits to the market,
my cattle to the meadows, I ferried my boat across the stream and
all the ways were well known to me.
One morning my basket was heavy with wares. Men were busy in
...

Elegant smile and a benign look,
I feel the power of his love,
with sane words of knowledge,
sitting in the ancestral house
...

Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
...

I was at peace until you came
And set a careless mind aflame;
I lived in quiet; cold, content;
All longing in safe banishment,
...

Ox that I saw in my childhood, as you steamed
in the burning gold on the Nicaraguan sun,
there on the rich plantation filled with tropical
...

This poem has reference to 'Robb Elementary School Angels Prayer' by dear poet Tim Labbe.

Let us pray for the souls
of the tiny tots
...

Come back to me, little dancing feet that roam the wide world o'er,
I long for the lilt of your flying steps in my silent rooms once more;
Come back to me, little voices gay with laughter and with song,
Come back, little hearts beating high with hopes, I have missed and mourned you long.
...

He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
...

Out of childhood into manhood
Now had grown my Hiawatha,
Skilled in all the craft of hunters,
...

Confessions of Krishna - 2

When my mind is cloudy
I have nowhere to place my head
...

SHE that but little patience knew,
From childhood on, had now so much
A grey gull lost its fear and flew
Down to her cell and there alit,
...

I would die a poet
Pilgrim from a burnished land
Remembered for humour, compassion and love
Claimed by many as a friend.
...

The power of the world
always works in circles.
The sky is round,
and I have heard
...

The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
...

Overhead the tree-tops meet,
Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet;
There was nought above me, and nought below,
My childhood had not learned to know:
...

I'm going to move ahead.
Behind me my whole family is calling,
My child is pulling my sari-end,
My husband stands blocking the door,
...

She smiles at the mirror, eyes blue as the sky
Dreaming of Paris and faraway places
Of people she’ll meet, their stories, their faces
Wishing that time would quickly go by
...

Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!
How many various-fated years have past,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
...

Napoleon's hat is an obvious choice I guess to list as a famous
hat, but that's not the hat I have in mind. That was his hat for
show. I am thinking of his private bathing cap, which in all hon-
esty wasn't much different than the one any jerk might buy at a
...

Murmurs from the earth of this land, from the caves and craters,
from the bowl of darkness. Down watercourses of our
dragon childhood, where we ran barefoot.
...

I was a Union soldier.
The battles were long, bloody and tiring.
I often had streaks of blood
All over my uniform.
...

Here, as in childhood, Brother, no one knows us.
And someone has died, and someone is not yet

born, while our father walks through his church at night
...

It's snowing this afternoon and there are no flowers.
There is only this sound of falling, quiet and remote,
Like the memory of scales descending the white keys
Of a childhood piano- outside the window, palms!
...

Squeaky wheels, squeaky wheels,
the tricycle inches forward toward
the white house with white pillars.
Squeaky wheels, squeaky wheels,
...

There is a place called Hope, Arkansas
Where a little boy grew up
No one ever dreamed that one day
His name would be on a special cup
...

I

The bitterness. the misery, the wretchedness of childhood
Put me out of love with God.
...

To become a single vibration with one single breath of my Stella, warm and cold,
To live and to die each moment to refresh.
I want to flow within the pain and pleasure of my love and rest beyond thy chest - my resurrection.
...

Just before the dark moon,
A slender sliver of light -
Like a piece of onion skin -
Rises into the sky near sunrise.
...

Childhood Faded away,
to a far away land,
simple, so simple were we,
Days of Play,
...