Last Commented Childhood Poems (355)

She loves christmas, why?, her beauty is enveloped in the childness and wonderfulness
of it all, the sound of christmas songs, the lights that light the sky, the smell of christmas cooking, and the happiness in their eye, the feeling deep inside, of wondermant she cant hide and all it come to be, is the child she wants to be! xx

Paperboys route

Start at the shop where the newspapers wait
Get cracking or I'll be delivering late
Onto my bike heavy bag a swinging
Pedal like crazy to get the chain singing

Off on the route I used to follow
Down the hill and into the hollow
Start near the school, post one or two
Then the Police house this chaps new

Round the corner past the shop
Deliver the Herald the best of the crop
No one about this hour before daylight
Another two miles and the day will be bright

Feel in the bag only the Times remaining
Weathers changed its started raining
Last one through the letterbox today
Mount my bike and shout hurray

Only another mile homeward riding fast
Home for breakfast at last
Bread to be toasted in front of the fire
Butter and jam a taste to acquire

A nice brew of tea ready for the day
Pack my school bag no time to play
Back on my bike three miles to ride
Arrive at school where I'm really tried.

Even the bees are muted and the birds too ......stunned into silence by the burning sun........I'm glad to be alive to feel it .......on my skin and in my heart .. ..open now like a flower unfurling ......I allow myself to see time ,long past .........summers ,full of swallows ,fragrant hay of mostly meadowsweet ..............Im wearing that blue striped favourite frock....... .in a sunny photograph, we're gathered ,wooden rakes on our shoulders ........our shy smiles sunburnt faces from the 70s ......I'm there now hearing the murmur .......of low voicesand quiet ways.......I found violets beneath the hedge.. such joy in discovery......my garden today homes wayward violets harts tongue ferns .....beneath trees and planted rose bushes .....that summer childhood has returned.....through the unfurled flower of my heart .

Into this void
Off liquid one so small
From tiny dot
One thus grow
Two limbs Four limbs now grow
One choirs emotion
Motions the head one floats one drwells in the void of liquid life ones tail does follow as one swims about sound from outside are you ok babe sounds of mamma's voice
Soothing the pain of life
Ones tail shortens organs form
Are you male are you female ones choices of life begins
IES that see blind to life
ears formed voices heard for life
Time to turn one is born to the world of trouble and striff one learns your place the world become one of many

Sometimes on a summer
when the skies are blue
I think about those childhood friends
the birds that never flew

Dead and gone by accident
sicknesses we knew
I only hope they're growing tall
on some sweet avenue

Are you a vouyer to my past
To read my words
From my lifes journey
On my journey of life's toil
To find my hidden sole
my life
You read with such glee
To find that hint of me
My past my present
My future not told
I create these words from my heart
My words for
I can see
who i am but sometimes life hides this from me to the future life is hidden from me
On my ever ending posted life of me

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.

Jack Frost decorates the woodlands each year,
For traditional festive history,
In shades of silver and twinkling white,
His reasons steeped in mystery,
Shiny spider webs like garlands of lace,
Adorn the churchyard fence,
A place fit to welcome our baby King,
Or for souls seeking recompense,
I tracked his footprints in the white crunchy field,
Until strangely further on there were none,
He must have vanished with the onset of dawn,
And the unbearable warmth of the sun,
He showed his anger in the hungry birds,
In the leaves that darkened the skies,
Yet they defied him dancing in the wind,
While falling to a watery demise,
His breath I felt ...that icy breeze,
In this snowy Winter dream,
As I stumbled and slipped on the frozen pond,
I heard his giggles in the gurgling stream,
Tip toeing home now to light the fire,
I'm sure Jack gloats with glee,
I did'nt find him in person today,
But I'm frozen...he surely found me.

He must have been about a hundred
well we reckoned he was, me and Jim-Bob
when we seen him there
standing in the swishing grass
'neath the snow-caps
all wintered in
so we up and ask him, whats up old fella?
but he just stands there staring
staring like a hundred year old horse would
when faced with fools in a field
but we never known it

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?