Most Viewed Childhood Poems (355)

As trees render leaves in Fall,\
Magic eyes watch Red Balloons bumping blue skies
While playground swings grow large spikes
And the sky is void of high flying kites.
pigeons mute their coo.
Gone is the man with his humoring bell
And all the slides go straight to hell.
Befor red balloons bumped blue skies
Tthe world tasted big
Appetites broad, smacking with gusto,
Pies of sod,
We painted the world we wished for,
Then the brush snapped in two
And Red Balloons bumping blue skies,
Mutated t a grayish hue. .
To melt the spikes,
to taste the world,
To hear the humoring bell
Unlike warm blood seeking a wind
We need only tap the child within.

Lingering within the confines of my subconscious, they still remain.
Pieces of faded pictures from past occurrences seem as though they took place in someone else's life.

It's dark and Baby's fast asleep
until morning when he wakes
he will play with his toys
and animal friend
his little teddy bear
who's so soft and cuddly
to the touch
with a very loving smile
and pretty dark brown eyes
will keep Baby happy for a while.

Then Baby puts it down again
picking up his little rattle
when it shakes it makes loud noises
that makes him very happy
Baby then looks around his cot
he looks for something new
he sees a shiny spinning top
as he pushes the little handle
it plays a lovely tune.

The day goes by, he's getting tired
it's time to go to bed
he'll sleep and dream of cuddly toys
until morning comes again.

We sit together on the bench, watching Nora play
"Look! Look at me!" she cries
Her little red head bounces and darts to and 'fro
She picks up a leaf, a stone, a dandelion,
Rushes up to us now and again, revealing her treasures
Small in stature, big in spirit, she dances across the lawn
We look at each other and smile,
Our eyes showing what our hearts know
Oh, what exquisite joy! Holding hands,
Watching Nora grow

Innocence,
What a beautiful gift.
It can never be destroyed.

I lost mine a long time ago.

Or so I thought.

But I found it again.

It was within me all this time,
One of my bestest friends.
Helping me to believe in goodness,
Till the bitter end.

I awoke and finally understood,
That the best things in life are free,
The laughter of a child, the morning sun,
A majestic old oak tree.

My innocence and freedom,
Are so very precious,
Worth so much more than gold,
It is something that I treasure deeply
And in my heart I hold.

Look deep inside and you will find,
The little child in you,
Learn to love this innocent child,
The way you were always meant to do.

What is homeless?
Shouldn't it be houseless?
I have a house
But a home can not be found
Does this make me a homeless too?

A frosty window pane
childrens toys and games
diamond smiles on icy xmas lights
shine on the faces of a huddled carol group
thay sing of peace and silent night

A liitle boy that no one knew stud closely by and hung
a line or two there voices echoed through a thousand
years his joy was shattered by the soldiers telling him to
move along and he turned and asked the woman
throgh his tears

Mama what is xmas without war
mama what is xmas without feara
and mama must we live with this distruction all the years

The little bunny
had a shiny nose,
a thing it could not
mend,
because its little
powder puff
was at the other
end.

most of time, clouds are, and were
have not see my kitchen ware, or dare to care?
just like the carrousel, up, and down, back and forth
undesired, under construction
belly's full, with no blend to be unblended
another day will count to this unfinished list
most of time, clouds are, and were.

The Screaming'

Piercing ! shrill is this sound corrupting the unbreakable silent stare,
of unmatched tormented bonds ,incarceration of the consciousness.
Blood soaked and razor edged barbs confining any visions of a futuristic glance,
yet still able to echo through winding ,dark chasms of reminiscence and helplessness.

I chance to dare my self some utterance in embroilment of my fears
though within this void am I cognizant of that which is forged of leather shackles
beyond starvation of love and banished to secluded worlds.
Hardly enough content in the isolation of numerous ,timeless and repetitious tears.

Blemish of scars that have scrolled they're torment deeply since long past flesh,
by one who would defy all of worth of me,and brandish the name of 'Father',but still
purchase a need to reinforce in me as of being nothing more than that of a 'Bastard'.
Holding me fast with bone crushing will, in so much fury, I dare not look into his face.

In violence of thunderous storms,strike upon bone,whilst under lightning flashed
rage.
Crawling on the crimson blood stained surface of which I am strewn aimlessly
across a broken and uncertain promise in shattered glass.
My archaic,self indulgent, chaotic task master throws me to an unforeseeable cage.
Without locks upon doors, are these walls without chains to abandon the physical
manifestations.

With all that has passed, my mind will seek a price for solace,but then should
solace afford of such a price within anguish of guilt.
In raptured cries of night unto which I release to all, who bear witness of torturous,
unrecognizable and unsighted revenge.
So then to my trust,not even to whom that may trespass against nightmare or dream,
Faulting the hurt of my own visitations of deeds that to me have been done.
I convene my search for reason ,but inwardly the soulless self will be in knowledge
that 'Forever will I scream'