Most Liked Childhood Poems (355)

Here lies a locked Door
For some to see
Only people
With knowledge of the Key

Life goes 'round in circles
And mine has traveled far
I can’t find my way back
For my home is in the stars
How long could love ever last
As long as my heart’s known
How I miss you sitting there
In an ol' parlor rocking chair
Next to the stone fire place
With your knitting basket
Stuffed with steins of yarn
That familair old stained
Yellowed mitten pattern….
To make green dragon mittens
With the red mouths inside
And ohhh those shiny golden eyes
How much you loved them too
Making them smile at me
A little puppet to cheer me up
How much you made me laugh
How much I miss your soft voice
Singing all those fairy tales
And funny nursery rhymes
About spiders and beanstalks
Giants and princesses
Even a woman who kisses cows
Always a happy ending
Many years have gone by
But how you are never forgotten
Nor your gentle love ever loss
Now it is I, Grams, who sits
In your old parlor chair
Smiling at your memory

When we were young, energetic, full of life,
On Saturday mornings, we were at Colaba
At our granny’s house, with uncles, aunts, nieces,
Stretching ourselves at the beaches,
Swimming in the Back bay waters,
Eating mangoes, basking in the sun,
Playing with shells, stones, pebbles, gun.
Sometimes, burying ourselves in the sand,
Remaining there for a long time,
With only our heads popping out for fun!

Noon time, there were afternoon siestas,
Dead tired after watching on telly fiestas,
Now, when clock strikes 5.p.m,
We have hot cups of coffee
With spicy cutlets, crispy nuggets
To pamper our greedy pallets.

By evenings, we get ready
To trot to Eros Theatre steady,
Screening Marx Bros., Laurel and Hardy,
Or slapstick comedy of Dean/Martin, Jerry/Lewis,
A laugh riot of our times gone by,
Till tears fall off our eyes!

At nightfall’s, we had wooden cots,
Laid out under Papal Trees and flower pots,
With the cool evening breeze blowing
Hearing fairy tales from granny at bed time
And falling asleep like a log!

Oh! Those were the days gone by,
Waking up one fine morning,
From a soft be into a luminous sunlight,
Feeling warm, well fed, well loved,
Well cared for a hug and longing,
Peace, silence, stillness, bliss,
Will those nostalgic days ever commeth?

__The End__

Sleep well my infant dear, gently rest
in your new world bathed with heavenly light;
Whilst I, with oceanic tears my grief invest,
for my infant dear, live in spheres of endless night,

Pray I therefor, your eyes grace a differing day,
annulling pain, which each earthy day did pass,
sad aching arms that once the loving breast did lay,
that unquestionable love, wherein the Motherly heart amass,

Thus, heart torn and wrenched, alone in morbid solitude,
empty the yearning arms, relegated to despondent shade,
wet the woeful eyes, yet love's vision still intrude,
for betwixt us both, corridors shall ne'er be slayed,

Nurtured I, your all too shorter days, sanctified no less
though sadly brief, lovingly proud, I happy bore
thee to my breast, my whole being did so address,
yet now in grief, wished that I could have done more,

I, in fruitful sorrow still your passing pine,
for our hopes and what might have been,
to daily watch the rich progression of the vine
amid the fields of life bathed in youthful green.

FROM THE DISTANCE,
I PERCIEVED THE SAVOURY FLAVOUR
OOZING IN CONTINUOUS STREAMS OF GREY,
LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL ORCHAD OF GREY HAIRS
THAT WORE DAD'S IMAGE OF AGE OLD WISDOM;
I FLEW THE BUTTERFLY STYLE
IN SEARCH OF THAT FLOWER OF WORDS
AND HE SAID TO ME SON:
LIFE FRAILITIES
ARE RUSTS ON A GOLDEN LACE
IN THE MOONLIGHT DANCE, UNWANTED GUEST
IT LEAVES IN THIER TRAIL
A POOL OF PAINS AND THE SAUCE OF TEARS SO SORELY FELT
TO MAKE AMENDS
DON'T DARE SUPINE
LET GO YOUR SWEAT, TODAY
THAT TOMORROW,
MAY PAY YOU A GOOD HOST.

The child sits in the sun drenched meadow
appearing to stare very intensely afar,
what captures the child's interest?
Nothing that is obvious to any of us.

He seems to be listening intently
is it to the robin who is singing?
The wind brushes across his skin
and he shivers as it touches him.

His mother quietly approaches
gently takes his hand in hers.
He clings tightly and nuzzles her
drawing in her scent to his nostrils.

The sad truth is that this child
is both deaf and blind
no sounds he hears
and no pictures he sees.

He is trapped in a silent world.
And will never see his mothers face.
yet he recognizes her scent
he feels the wind on his skin.

Do you hear me,im trying to speak
so very young,emotionally weak
my innner thoughts,my only voice
think in silence,its not a choice.


Got things to say,to speak my mind
will you listen,it would be kind
look out the window,and dream away
a silent soul,the mind will play.


Thoughts they come,and then they go
what will be next,you never know
a spinning top,a mind so full
imagination becomes so dull


Years roll by,its still the same
fears and thoughts,an endless game
a healthy mind,a vital tool
dont overthink,dont be a fool...

WITNESSING TO YOUNG BROTHERS ON THE STREETS DYING EVERY DAY SEEING TEARS FALLING DOWN THE MOTHERS FACES AT THE FUNERAL AS THERE CHILD HAD TO GO
UNHERD OF BUT SEEN WATCHING THERE ONLY SON ON THE MOVIE SCREEN ONLY THING THE
FAMILY HAS TO GO BACK IS ON MEMORIES AS THEY BURY THERE CHILDREN AT THE CEMETERIES DIFF COLOR OF A RAG DIFF COLOR CHILD IN DA BODY BAG YO MOMMAZ SCREAMING YO MOMMAS YELLING BUT ITS NOT HELPING YO MOMMAZ HUGGING ON TO THE CROSS THINKING OF HER BABY SON SHE JUST LOST..DIFF COLOR OF A RAG DIFF COLOR BROTHER IN A BODY BAG...PRAYING TO GOD TO FIND THE LIGHT AS THEY READ IN THE PAPER IN THE BLACK AND WHITE ANOTHER CHILD DIES IN A GANG FIGHT A COLD BLOODED HEART WHERE DID IT ALL START SOME OF THE FAMILY WASNT THERE AND SOME OF THE FAMILY DID CARE NOW U REALIZE SHREADED TEARZ THROUGH THE YEARZ HARD TO BE SINCERE WHEN U DONT HAVE NO FEAR RAISED FROM DA GHETTO TO THE GET GO JUDGE PRE JUDGE IT WAS ALL THE SAME THE SOCIETY PUT THE YOUNG FOLKS THROUGH THE BLAME BUT ITS ALL THE SAME BLAME A BROTHER BUT YET I STILL SEE YOUNG DEAD BROTHERS

morning light
summer wind
fading glimpses
soon begin

apple for the teacher
filled with delight
putting on your jacket
don't leave my sight

playing ball
sure is great
hit a homer
now race around to the plate

sept again
pile on the bus
dressed in your best
just like all, you could trust

nervous as hell
with a face full of pimples
its prom time again
ask the one with the dimples

wow what a journey
filled with laughter and joy
this was my tale
from an author named Roy

day after day
and nite after nite
I search thru the darkness
to seek out the light

flies on the wall
tics in my bed
what does this mean
visions of you in my head

sitting at the desk
pounding away
tap click tap tap
is what you hear all day

mother watching tv
naked and afraid I think
see the monkeys do their thing
boy they look like they stink

snow flies up north
without prejudice it seems
it don't care who you are
frozen car door! You scream

just another freestyle
theres nothing to it
its so simple that even
a child could do it