The objects from childhood's house are becomming in time icons.
aphorism by Paul Louis Lampert
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Emoticons in my Life
Already In childlhood I had emoticons
of cry when I hungered and I longed for my mom
A lost toy is sorrow, the sting of ant is pain
A friend who went away left icons of despair
And then childhood I left onto adolescence
Everything around me began to have a sense
Emotions have causes so do emoticons
I myself cannot make my icons on my own
In my bachelorhood came the icon of frown
The incertitudes of love I could not understand
Came to me the icons of sorrow and despair
When in the field of love woefully I did fail
In the end I regained icons of hope and joy
when the heart of the woman that I love I won
Emoticons of anger in my manhood did come
Emotion I supressed, did not show everyone
Emotional outbursts I hid and overcome
Harmony and accord was foremost in my mind
I am now in old age, my smileys are few
The icon of laughter I now do never show
Emoticons are not for an old man to make
But dictated by God, icons I must accept
That always come with pain, ailments and body aches
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Even Objects Around Me
I almost want to ask you to leave my head
Living without you makes me feel dead
The reminder that I'm alone with you is everywhere
It's the kinda that will tear
My mind into pieces, but slowly, painfully, and quietly
That's how it kills me
Because you're even in objects around me
You've been in this house, so you can see
How things all around remind me
About times we've had
Or maybe just time and isn't that sad?
That's all you gave me to cling to?
What were you
Thinking? !
And yet I'm sinking
Drowning in my memories of you, that remind me of desire and love
That remind of hurt and the one sided nature
Maybe it's time to be mature
And just grow up but all around me I'm reminded of you
Even objects speak to me about you, even places in my house too
I can't get you out of my head!
Is this love or something else? !
We barely have memories but I can't let go of you
We barely have memories together but that's all you've got of me too...
Do you think of me, it almost makes me cry
To wonder if you do because you probably don't, why can't my feelings die
Especially when you don't feed them
Especially when you seem to avoid me like a saint to sin
How can I get away from you when even objects cry out against me
They cause me to see
That either I really love you
Or I just can't think stop thinking about you...
The only conclusion I can come to
Is that even objects around me love you too
poem by David Knox
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My Childhood Memories
Childhood memories are often steeped in mystery.
The older we get the memories exclude
sometimes things we might find painful as we journeyed on.
I tried to visualise my childhood as a happy one,
though I know in my heart it was a very much lonely one.
Not only was I shy, but I never mixed very well.
I spent so much of my time nearly always on my own.
The only exciting time I can remember
was one summer I spent with friends of my father
whom I referred to as Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim.
For the two months I spent with them
in a small town called Allison
hold some of the best memories of my childhood.
It was away from my parents
and into someone’s house that cared.
I went fishing every day
in the stream at the end of the garden,
made many friends
and had one of the most enjoyable times
of my childhood
that will always live within me.
5-6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Childhood Faded Away
Childhood Faded away,
to a far away land,
simple, so simple were we,
Days of Play,
Going our Way,
Having fun, no care,
for another day,
time for us stood still,
playing king of the hill
Childhood Faded away
thinking of another day,
summer time was fine,
when friends were kind,
swiming holes were filled,
our hearts were thrilled
Childhood Faded Away
to a time that makes me sway
many years have passed away,
since childhood faded to another day,
Childhood Faded to places,
UNKNOWN TO US
floating somewhere in time.
wrote 1-15-07
That Was My House
(I had spent my childhood in Kashmir/India.)
Once upon a time
that house
housed my home
narrow lanes led to outside roads
which I used to roam.
Once upon a time
that house
woke up with temple bells
loud prayers stirred the souls
with blowing of conch shells.
Once upon a time
that house
had an open window
cool breeze refreshed me
with the chirrup of a sparrow.
Once upon a time
that house
overlooked the river
I could jump and swim
like an expert diver.
Once upon a time
that house
had a long kaeni (balcony)
made all the children play together
by tough grand old Kakni. (grand mother)
Once upon a time
that house
basked under the sun
warmth spread to people around
everyone used to have fun.
Once upon a time
that house
witnessed many celebrations
gupp bacche/bhand and melodious Henze*
were hallmark of jubilations.
That house, like a dream to me now
and may remain that for ever
its indelible impression, admit I must
can never be erased, my dear.
-----xxxx-------
* dancer/singers and singing of wedding rhythem.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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Childhood Is...
Childhood is hanging your pictures on the refrigerator, and tea parties you always have to cater.
Childhood is chasing butterflies and picking flowers,
playing with blocks and making towers.
Childhood is hating nap time,
and thinking everything is always MINE
Childhood is crayons and coloring books,
Playing hide and go seek in all the right nooks.
Childhood is falling asleep to your favorite lullaby,
wishing you had wings so you could soar into the sky.
Childhood is only crying over a scrapped knee,
or being stung by a bumble bee
Childhood is thinking boys have cooties,
or your mom making you wear itchy booties.
Childhood is ruining mommy's new leather,
and making friends and keeping them forever.
Childhood finally ends,
When you start to grow up,
And not having to drink out of a sippy cup
poem by Shenika Vermaak
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Childhood is calling
Come on people move
For childhood is calling
time to get up and groove
there is no time for stalling
Enjoy the warm sunny day
and chase all of your blues away
this is a day that is so enthralling
listen, as your childhood is calling
old men sit and are soon recalling
and slowly as their hair is graying
they hear the siren song of youth playing
saying that their childhood is calling
the time is slipping away so quickly,
so run fast and catch the dying sun
for childhood is calling
and your life has just begun
JPM 1/4/2008 - 1/11/2008
Bedroom Karoake
Pink Champagne & I
love your hair...eh?
With a hairbrush
I sing
(prancing like a prat)
doing Rosemary Clooney
doing her thing.
Come on a my house... my house a come on
Come on a my house...my house a come on
Come on a my house...to my house
I’m gonna give ya candy!
You in stitches
having never seen a naked man sing
an old 1950’s song
from his childhood.
I have never seen
a naked woman
laugh so much
You snatch
the hairbrush
& tantalisingly turn the song
into improper suggestion.
Come on a my house.. a my house
I’m gonna give you
Everything...everything...everything!
I come...I come!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Your Childhood
From birth to five, you're learning
From five to ten, you're playing
By the time you're fifteen
You're never wrong
But then you turn around
And it's all gone, your childhood
Now daddy knows what he's saying
You're in my arms and i'm praying
That i'll be given the strength and time
To make yours just as happy as mine
Your childhood
Every morning
Your crying ends my sleep
I kid on i'm angry
But it's not a feeling i can keep
There's no light outside
I don't care 'cos i know it's true
That in our house
The sun shines out of you
You've got your mother's looks
Your're a beautiful little girl
You'll break boys hearts
All over this world
Then one day you'll walk out the door
And i know you'll break mine
You'll break mine
From birth to five, you're learning
From five to ten, you're playing
By the time you're fifteen you're never wrong
But then you turn around and it's all gone
Your childhood
So you're trying to talk
Any day now you'll walk
You'll be running around
Make me act like a clown
'cos i live and i breathe
For my little girl
Our little girl
The most important thing is this whole wide world
Now daddy know what he's saying
Your in my arms and i'm praying
That i'll be given the strength an time
To make yours just as happy as mine
Your childhood
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cooked
What's the use?
Give it best;
Cut her loose;
Have a rest.
Hope is dead;
Gloom collects,
Nuff is said
Cook objects.
Moth and rust
Hither lurk;
All is bust,
Knock off work.
Nation's great
Architects,
Clean the slate;
Cook objects.
Oh the schemes
That we planned!
Dreaming dreams
For the land.
All in vain.
Hope neglects
To remain;
Cook objects.
Navy; what?
Army too?
Blessed rot;
All is blue.
It's all one
Who protects.
dropp your gun;
Cook objects.
Let her rip,
All is up.
Have to sip
Bitter cup.
Tear your hair
Woe connects
With despair,
Cook objects.
Fellow Aust
Ralians,
Trouble's crossed
All our plans.
Seek the tomb;
Fate selects
Us for doom.
Cook objects.
Death marks us
For his own.
(Grisly cuss.)
Our head-tone,
With a laugh,
He erects.
Epitaph
'Cook objects.'
dropp a tear;
Heave a sigh;
End is near;
Say goodbye.
Sell up home
And effects.
(Dismal pome)
Cook objects.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Len Webster's 'Childhood Is...
Childhood Is
when the world to come
is an adventure to be met
Childhood Is
running and hiding
peeking around blind corners
hoping you have been followed
Childhood Is
ducking and diving
dreaming of being in the best
football team in the world
and scoring the winning goal
in the Cup FInal
Childhood Is
being the perfect person
(or not being caught out
when you're not being
the perfect person)
Childhood Is
a mass of contradictions
you don't want to unravel
Childhood Is
a nice cosy bed,
clean sheets
and Mummy's kisses
poem by Len Webster
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Memories are the icons of time lost.
Mircea Eliade in The Novel of the Nearsighted Adolescent (1928)
Submitted by Elena Gheorghe
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The pottery
In the common clay,
Transformed by modeling
I imprison my idea.
Every time you pass,
You stop to look
For a moment,
At my art objects,
Delicately modeled in shape.
They gain color in light.
Many potters expose objects
In that place,
But you know which are mine,
Even without my signature,
I think only of you
When I make them to appear real.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Memories of Childhood
memories so many,
arent they sweet like honey?
i remember my childhood days;
when me and my sister lazed.
the time when i rolled in mud,
or; the time when i fell down
the time when i saw a meteor,
or; the time when i went to school.
the time when i threw stones at cows,
or; the time when i was chased by a mouse!
old memories are filled with fun and joy,
things to be remembered and loved.
and; time came for me to grow up;
to sit in the armchair;
to remember............................
(stuffed in my mind)
my childhood memories.
poem by Aparna Subramanian
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
Childhood Dreams
Sunlight peeps thru closed curtains
like a sleepy child, nodding in - out
yet you sleep. the wave of pre-dawn
passion, renaming lost childhood dreams
I often wonder about some childhood friend,
how at the time we were pardners, for life
what has become of him? is he sitting
somewhere with a cup of coffee?
I touch your skin, to gently introduce you
to a new day, and you with a smile, say
'I was just dreaming about you' thus
leaving my thoughts of childhood friends
poem by Joe Howell
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That is the great distinction between the sexes. Men see objects, women see the relationships between objects.
quote by John Fowles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mathematicians do not study objects, but relations between objects.
quote by Henri Poincare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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