Last Commented Childhood Poems (355)

"Do you remember, when I was six, you told me I was a mistake"
you miscarried before me, but I took their place...

"you made it clear right from the start, my life would not be easy, your words of resent, so true and so stark"

"you beat me regularly, often within an inch of my life...but with each time i survived you came back harder, determined with hatred and blind rage, you cut me sharper than the sharpest knife"

"A young boy contemplating suicide, and wishing himself to die, born without love, or emotions, and with no family ties"

"And now, a man I have become, strong, sensitive, and working with the deprived, my own experiences ensuring that in your own childhood, you indeed shall strive"

"Now you seek me out with your welcoming arms spread far and wide, and why, because I have made my mark, a successful Author am i"

"I forgive you my mother and my father, but fold your arms now, hang them by your side, for that little boy you made suffer has long since died"

Hey little child, let me hold
You near,
Close to me, because of your fears.

let me kiss those tears, that are caused by
Pain,
Not by your weakness, wrongdoings or
Shame.

Those, the adults, that should have stood by
You,
Are the ones to blame,
Never,ever,
You.

They should have protected you, when you was weak and small,
Instead they neglected you, which made you
Fall.

So don't blame yourself little child,
For I understand you and am your guide.

To tell you that you too can regain,
Something that was taken from you, through torture and pain.

Let me kiss those tears,
From your beautiful
Eyes,
And let you know that, you can finally
Sigh.


A sigh of relief.

Be free.

Untitled.
I left myself last night
to try to find myself
a long time ago.

When I found her,
I saw her sitting alone
empty room,
lost in another daydream.
I knew her thoughts;
they had once been mine.
She was caught up in her
thinkings of you.

And, oh, I tried to tell her.
Oh, I tried to help her.
Oh, I tried to warn her.

But young love...
young love never hears anything
but the voice
of its lover.

She turned and
looked at me,
looked through me.

I remember thinking
how happy I was,
in love with you.
She left me
to go tap on your door
to slip into your room
to feel you touch her
and sigh.

But, oh, I tried to tell her.
Oh, I tried to help her.
Oh, I tried to warn her.

...But I was young
...and I was so in love.

Hey mom and dad.
I
Love
You.
But I wonder
If you,
Love
Me too?
Then,why do you scream
And shout at me
The way you
Always do?

Don't you know
That I can listen
Exactly like you
Want?
But I don't understand
Anything at all,
When you rage
And rant.

You poke your fingers
Between my chest,
And push me till
I fall,
I start to cry and
Put up my arms,
And shield myself
From your
Blows.

And when you've finished venting
Your rage,
You look at me
In disgust,
And say,hey girl,
Stop crying like a wuss
get up and
Wipe that blood..

So up I get and do what I'm told,
But I don't understand,
Why a seven year old,
A little child,
Needs to be all grown
Up
And act like a man.

Alone in my room,
I hug my knees,
Wishing I was dead.
knowing that tomorrow
And forever and forever
I will again be smacked
On my head.

And mommy you just silently watch,,
When he harms
me,
No hugs, no kisses, no are you ok?
I feel like you hate me,

So one day when I'm older, when I'm big and strong,
I'm gonna tell
You,
mom, your just as
Guilty
You too did me
wrong.


But I still love you.

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.

I made a box for myself
of metal and glass
Each day I peer out
and watch my life pass

In the box in my head
I'm only ever me
The self that I hide
that only I see

My tearstained face
surrounds my soul
this box of fear
or perfect control

The glass made of rules
that I yearn to crack
but the world's too vast
too full of what I lack

But someday I'll grow tired
of the role that I play
As I act out my part
of living each day

I'll crash through the walls
and with blood on my feet
I'll stand in the sun
broken and complete

imaginary old fable tales days of our dreams dreams that are real think thought thunder crashing like hail one by one we conquer this we live in a forest of brilliance with magical lifeforms and dreams that make a child as happy as a movie pineapple trees and dreams and lemon sky with elfs and even queens in our fable tale

BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears,— 10
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain,—
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,—
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;— 15
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,—
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!


By: Elizabeth (Akers) Allen. 1832–1911

I

We endured
that road like junkies,
homeless
emaciated
and hungry,
desperate
for the healing
the road had promised to provide.

We craved
body and soul
the blood in the land
and the salt in the sea
as if seduced
by a promise,
then we destroyed
and created
what was raised from the earth.

We thieved
and maneuvered our wares
like Phoenicians
at market in Tripoli;
we invested
in illusion,
worked it into our systems
like the dreams of fatherless children;
and we orgied,
orgied in barrels of fermenting wine,
orgied in blackberries, muscle shells, and the sands of time,
orgied to escape
the prison of our skins.


II

In time, we became adept
at betrayal.

Again
and
again,
like supplicants
bathed in blood,
we sacrificed
our offerings
to the Gods of Prospect Road,
yet
they remained
desperate
for the healing
the road had promised to provide.

We consulted
the high priests,
the wise
and ancient
dealers,
and learned
with reverance
that they were alot like us:
desperate
for the healing
the road had promised to provide.

We fought
for the birth of our emergent selves
and like a harvest
of winter wheat,
we were winnowed
in the winds of generations:
our husks lie broken
on the shores of Prospect Road.

We loved
like angels
and gave it our all,
we received nothing
and everything
from the road;
we carry it
each of us
like the smoldering remains
of a youth lived.

And when
the wind blows
across the granite
along those shores,
placed there as if by gods,
the debris
along Prospect Road
swirls
and rises aloft
into
grey
memory,
as if
desperate
for the healing
the road had promised to provide.

dream little ones dream let happy days show the way let innocence stay just a little longer you are the heart of the world children oh children from all parts of life stay young and let the happy sunshine in you are the hope of are time newborn to one hundred and fifty children oh children you are the heartbeat of life