Most Commented Childhood Poems (355)

How could you do this to ME?
For i look at myself in the
mirror and i see YOU.
This is not who i want to
see or even ever be.
I need to be myself and
not see you for you turn
my WHOLE WORLD BLUE.
You make me HATE MYSELF
in every way when i see
YOUI each day.
Yet it is me in the mirror
and i must begin to realize
i am not YOU or ever
plan to be.
This line is true.
Even though i do not want
to HATE YOU i can not help
to think it might be true.
If i look at myself and i
see you i want to cut it
up hurt it and never exist
in this form anymore.
I can not believe YOU did
not know YOU had made me
want to DIE instead of look
like YOU or act like YOU.
Many times you made me feel
like i should be DEAD instead
of the person YOU are.
I am sorry to place this on
YOU, but only you caused this
TORTURE in me daily for you
were my BIOLOGICAL MOTHER.
You let them BEAT on me and
MOLEST me in every way.
It was like you did not
care about me only the MEN
in your life and your
A L C O H O L too.
That was all you turned to.

I’m far from beautiful and perfect
I’ve been told so many times I’m just not worth it
I went through battles and I went through pain
The other girls never treated me the same
I refused to think it was because I was black
I’m certain it’s not because of that
I was always by myself with my mirror
All the boys were scared off by my brother
All the lies were covered up by my mother
People saw me and said wow she’s perfect
Little did they know under the makeup lives a girl who's not worth it?
I was forced fed vanity and commanded to make it a part of me
Entered in to the contest of who's the prettiest
Waxing, lip gloss, miniskirts and fake teeth were forced on me since I was three
Now lives a cold hearted girl age of 18
Who thinks happiness lies in money and beauty

Under the eye shadow and mascara lives a girl from Jamaica
Her mother’s Indian and her father’s black
Her personality evolved from that
Belly dancer by day and dancehall queen by night
She sticks away from religion
As Muslim and Christianity always seem to fight
She entered her first beauty pageant when she was three
The little gymnastics girl was something to see
She never won once until she was 5
She clutched her fake teeth as she claimed the prize
As she became older all the makeup was her insecurities disguise
At the age of fifteen she stopped eating for a month or two
When she started again it was a struggle
But when she was 17 her mother commanded she models
Photo after photo snapped the shutter
She’s too far gone, she can’t come back
It’s like her sanity vanished with each camera flash
She never wanted to be a show pony
But was forced endlessly
So she wrote this poem to show her mother
That the “pamper” was truly “torture”

Slowly but surely you faded
You sucked away my vanity
Replaced it with insanity
Low self-esteem could have been the death of me
No self-confidence, always felt unworthy
Knock off version of Barbie unoriginal beyond any doubt
Black short and fat and everybody would act as if I didn’t stand out
I was the only black girl in all my classes
And I guess I fit the stereotypes of loving chicken and oh their favourite one "black girls have big asses"
Blonde trophies to the right of me and smart brunettes and red heads to the left
In front of me was their beauty
Behind me lost in the shadows was my vanity
Half dead still clinging on to old memories to survive
Asking me how could I let any girl lower my ego when I won 6 beauty pageants since I was 5?
The memory of being the little gymnastics queen
Who can still do the same moves at nineteen
Long hair and chocolate skin with a little sheen
Put vanity back in business behind a protective screen
I stopped eating I forced the weight to go
I stopped crying and used make up to block them from seeing my true feelings I vowed I'll never let them show
Strange how the bullying turned to loving when I started to look better how that happened? I’ll never know
But all this vanity is like commodity that I’ll later exchange for modesty
At least I can pretend I’ve never felt the wrath of despondency.

This is Halloween I'm told
When witches and warlocks roam so bold
Ghosts appear in the night
To give the people such a fright
Trick or treat the standard cry
On my door don't bother to try
I'll give you no treat, I'll give you no trick
On your way you'll be sent mighty quick
So when it comes to All Hallows Eve
You can take the devil, pack up and leave

I clearly recall Vigus who was around eight
Wearing a girl's dress climbing over their front gate
His folks thought this apparel would keep him at home
And discourage him from leaving their place to roam

When we played a game of marbles on the bare ground
He would tuck the dress between his legs and stoop down
This was in preparation for his turn to “pitch”
So he could aim at the target without a hitch

His first language was a version of French patois
Which he learned in his native island, St. Lucia
When we first met and he spoke French patois to me
I, not understanding, would nod approvingly

We made chocolate ice cream from sifted dirt and sand
And sought someone to taste our own special brand
He was my next door neighbour and as a young boy
Playing together as children brought us great joy

Mum what’s a Covid virus ?
My friends are all afraid,
We have to keep our distance,
And it’s so long since we played.

We need to meet so badly,
We’re just sick of being refused,
As we are only six years old,
And really quite confused.

So when can we return to school ?
To learn in our classroom,
To laugh and play together,
It’s not the same on zoom.

Why can’t we visit Granny ?
I’m told she can’t come here,
Each time we speak across the phone,
I hear her shed a tear.

I miss her hugs and stories,
That I’m her hearts beguile,
I remember well her countenance,
Though a mask conceals her smile.

I hope that she’s not lonely,
For that would make me cry,
And yet if we hugged Granny,
Does that mean she might die ?

I pray each night the vaccine works,
To cure the lock down pain,
And make the virus dissappear,
So we can play again.

my dad was a farmer
and so was his father
probably even the whole generations
of his ancestors as he remembered

he told me all of his past
how difficult and hard life was
he hardly had a full meal when he was young
nor had shoes and or clothes to go to town

my situation was no different
same hardships and same element
in fact I remember it probably was even harder
I knew it very well I will never forget

but love and kindness my parents were full
they never ran out of compassion for one and all
they never complained nor expressed any disdain
for our being the poorest in the whole town

looking at our state, it made me think
I promised myself and told my parents
I would go to school, I would not fail
and change our life for the better

and so I did, with the grace of our Lord,
worked the hardest filled with courage
it wasn't easy my road was full of challenges
but I hurdled it all and never gave up

so here I am paying a tribute to my parents
to my ancestors and to the legacy they laid
no matter where I am and no matter what I have attained
I will always be grateful to the land I came from,

the beautiful Philippines, and to my parent's farm.

I will go home...

Note: My daughter Karen who is my eldest have always convinced me tirelessly to go back home and I am now set to do just that. Her family has decided to go and settle there for good and I couldn't be happier for them. Since farming was and is always be in my blood, maybe, that is my Destiny that is yet to be fulfilled to the fullest. I love farming and I will never lose sight to my past no matter how poor I was. I am still the same, only older and wiser, I hope. Thank you Lord for all the blessings you bestowed to us especially to my parents and those that were once as poor as me, but made it better with the grace of our Lord.

A splash of rain on the window pane
I'm lying here thinking of you again
Sunday drives in our old Renault 5
Driving aimlessly around the countryside
Stopping for a walk, me lagging behind
The scent of honeysuckle in the air
We'd pick fuschia and place them in our hair
On arriving home, you'd prepare the tea
Then run a bath for my sis and me
We'd sit around and watch Glenroe
This Sunday ritual never got old
Though time has passed
And you, nor Glenroe are no more
I'll never forget those days
Does anyone, anyways?

You were highschool sweethearts..
She always came to your house
And sat on your bed, kissed you
As much as you wanted
How many times did you two
Sit on the pier and swish your
Feet in the water and laugh
Like children in the sun?
The sail boats, the smell
Of the salt lake and her
enticing smile melted
Into your heart like
A dream from heaven
Her name was Josey
You watched her as
She sat on her rich
Fathers yacht, her
Innocent smile burning
In your heart
But she was so
Young, and she
Could never know
How much your
Heart burned for
The fire of her
Affection
She slipped away
As many dreams
Do and you pressed
The memory of her
Into some lonely
Pocket of your
Heart
But years passed
And the tears of
Your youth
Sent this longing
Tear before your
Mind
The beauty of her
Smile emerged
From the warm lakes
Of the past
The sunshine of what could
Have been have become
Burning tears upon
Your face.
Cafe

Josey, you were sunshine in my soul..