Little Women
little women of my childhood gravel lane,
fill out a part of my memory of
linked-wooden houses built on stilts.
their crowning glories still so vivid;
how they flipped like a pendulum from
shoulder to shoulder as they ran;
those different-styled hair
each carving a story and character in
my own little women world;
straight, graceful tresses,
shoulder-length lioness-styled crown,
and their varied-toned skins;
fair, dark, palsy so many different shades
in one family, it's a wonder how genes work.
all these differences held tight by a love
that flowed so abundantly from shy mom and salt fish market businessman dad.
how they had run helter skelter
from their games of rope jumping, hide and seek, hopscotch, ....
for home when they saw daddy
strolling home with his straw basket round his elbow, the dollars and cents of the day to get the family runnning.
his subtle gentle smile that hid a world of love for the frightful children in his presence.
the children who all earned
much favours from their
keen attitude towards studies
and those paper bags they
so skillfully folded and
gummed for daddy's merchandise
as well as for friends
to earn those extra cents
to get tickets for the
next famous epics from
hong kong, taiwan.
brother fell in love with one fair one
in his upper secondary study.
a puppy love that soon turned sour.
my childhood lane's
only broken heart story.
my childhood lane
how every inch is still
still filled with
experiences sweet, sour, bitter,
a part of my life
that runs like a cartoon movie.
those childhood characters
I wonder whether
they could spare some time
with me to to walk down
those cement blocks and
tarred road
that have overtaken
the scenes but not the soul.
i wonder could that be their best days too?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Strolling down memory lane
Strolling down memory lane
Where the colors begin to fade.
Strolling down memory lane
Is where I want you to come along.
Strolling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind.
Strolling down memory lane
I won’t be afraid.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not lacking in color.
Strolling down memory lane
Is not a big bummer.
Strolling down memory lane
Not a storm in sight
Strolling down memory lane
is joy without bite.
A memory that I have created in my mind,
Stands the test of time.
Memories are like dream, a reflection of the past.
My memories can kiss my…
Ask me no questions I will tell you no lies.
poem by Taran Burke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do Children Want To Grow
Why do Children
of now adays
Want to grow so fast
to look grown up
to think grown up
But still be a child at heart
I would live my childhood
OVER again just to be a child
to have pure heart
Pure minds, pure dreams
Instead of a childhood of distain
To play without a care
And see the magic of Mother Nature
And use imagination
To dance on rainbows
And white fluffy clouds
To play hide and seek
In the candy land of our dreams
To ride on unicorns
And sprinkle fair dust
To take a flight in
A midsummer dream
Why would children of today
Pass all this by
Just to be grown up
In a world like ours
Why lose the innocence
Of childhood sweet dreams
Just to rush into
The uncertainty of life
Why bypass your childhood
Just to be an adult of today
only to yearn the loss
of you childhood of yesterday
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Travelling down memory lane
Traveling down memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Traveling down memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Traveling down memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Traveling down memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Traveling down memory lane
is love & pain, fun with friends.
Traveling down memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Traveling down memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Traveling down memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
poem by Ralph Acosta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I miss my childhood
I miss my childhood everyday
This missing increases day by day
I miss those days of happiness
which were full of joy and naughtiness
I miss my grandpa's magnificent love
I miss my grandma's food serve
I miss my village and my darling home
Now I am sad and alone
I was used to go garden daily evening
where I see the day changing
I play their with my friends
who were perfect in that and were legends
I miss stealing of mango from trees
I miss those mountainy friendly trees
I miss play of hide and seek
we hide on guava's great peak
I miss my fields and ponds
I miss that sweet smell of my lands
I miss the scolds of elders
I miss my village builders
I miss my grandpa's old shoulders
I miss my village's brave soldiers
I miss my cow's sweet milk
I miss my cranky and playful tricks
No one can return my childhood
And that hunt for fruits in woods
I have left my childhood very far
But I need life like that with no bar
I am hungry for that love of village
my hunger becomes more with age
In this world of stress and worries
I want back my childhood glories
Life is such a name
That plays with everyone, a different game
But in every game there is some hopeful ray
I miss my childhood everyday.
(27 march 2010, Lucknow)
poem by Shashank Dwivedi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memories Of The Roeside
Scenes of a childhood,
Long years ago,
Surface in memory as vivid as snow:
The Mullagh, the Dogleap,
The Wet Wood and the Dry…
Memories of the Roeside
Bringing tears to each eye.
And where are the friends
Of those days before?
Do they share the fond memories
Which I have in store?
Do they think of the Marshfield,
The old Wireless Lane,
Nicholl’s Brae, The Flat,
And the high Rock of Kane?
Do they recall the summers
By the Wee Rock at the Mill,
Or the sports in the Avenue
With many a thrill?
And what of the ‘characters’-
Ah, too many to relate;
It being good fortune
To share partly their fate…
Oh these memories of childhood,
Of school- days, of youth,
I cling to like life, as precious as truth.
And to those still living, my friends of the Roe
I drink you a toast to times long ago.
poem by Liam ó Comáin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In the Land of Childhood
In the magic land of childhood,
Where all children fondly dwell,
There’s a pocketful of daydreams,
And a story sweet to tell,
A land of true believing,
Where each happy child stands tall,
And a million golden moments,
Where life’s tiny sunbeams fall.
Childhood holds a place enchanted,
Where no grownup can invade.
There’s an ignorance unequalled,
That just never seems to fade.
There is laughter soft and gentle,
With a hope that’s running wild,
And a world of dreaming,
In the heart of every child.
I am sure the children are loved,
As he gazes from above,
Lending peace and special meaning,
To these ting bits of love.
Pleasant barefoot days in summer,
Fantasy and joys untold,
In the magic land of childhood…..
Silver raindrops-sun of gold.
© S.E.S
poem by Sara Stowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Christmas Song
She was his girl, he was her boyfriend
Shed be his wife, and make him her husband.
A surprise on the way any day any day
One healthy little giggling, dribbling baby boy
The wisemen came, three made their way
To shower him with love while he lay in the hay
Shower him with love, love, love
Love,love,love
Love,love was all around.
Not very much of his childhood was known
Kept his mother mary worried always out on his own
He met another mary, who for a reasonable fee,
Less than reputable was known to be
His heart was full of love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love was all around.
When jesus christ nailed to his tree
Said oh daddy-o, I can see how it all soon will be
I came to shed a little light on this darkening sea
Instead I fear Ive spilled the blood of my children all around
The blood of my children all around
The blood of my childrens all around.
So Im told, so the story goes
The people he knew were less than golden-hearted
Gamblers and robbers,
Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers
Like you and me, like you and me
Rumors insisted that he soon would be
For his deveations taken into custody
By the authorities, less informed than he
Drinkers and jokers, all soul searchers
Searching for love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love was all around.
Preparations were made for a celebration day
He said eat this bread but think of it as me
Drink this wine and dream it will be the blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
The blood of our children all around
Father up above
Why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love, love, love
Love, love, love
Love, love is all around
Father up above
Why in all this hatred do you fill me up with love, fill me love, love, yeah
Love, love, love
Love, love, and the blood of our children all around.
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Those layered Cakes
yesterday i passed by
my childhood stall by the road;
what an experience it was!
that woman in her 30s i used to see,
now only her creased forehead and face
to add another dimension between us.
how sweet her layered little squarish
suntan cakes still tasted;
those layers that i peeled off
piece by piece to savour their charms.
and as i peeled the women gave me
that more mature and
deeply heartstirring smile
that tore through the distance
between us as if each layer i had peeled carried a story of her own life.
those years of experiences
now seen in phases,
like the layers of her cake.
the child in me leapt up again.
i left behind what
have separated us
to present the innocent smile
we used to give each other.
momentarily we lived
those days when i was a child
and she a young woman.
those childhood years
when we saw people as what they were.
those childhood years
when our smiles, love
were a fountain spring of ourselves
until the days when growing up
added different shades
of feelings and thoughts
to our relationships.
i hate the layer
those creases and wrinkles
laid in me.
i prefer to see them
as a child
where she would probably be
the wise woman in some cartoon film.
how those cakes would never
be the same again.
how i loved those pink and white layers,
the pink and white that had always
carried a fairy tale behind them.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Childhood Revisits Me
The childhood days of my life so gone, unforgettable days
The childish fights in the end I sure did get my way
Innocence and freedom the world seemed to be fair
With happiness and no worries not a single care
Love was pure, always there and I do so clearly recall
The many celebrations parties endless just on a call
When sorrow knocked on my door came in gifts a plenty
Smiles that never did fade away and with kindness a many
The freedom of pictures, the many famous stars on my wall
The fridge with chewing gum. chocolates and that's not all
Collecting butterflies and fish, picking flowers for my hall
The many impish doings laid for the brothers to trip and fall
Sore knees, sprained ankles and wrists playing hide and seek
Stung by bees and the catapult by the boys we didn't freak
The cycle race. cricket matches, fun and frolic it was till into bed
Enjoying mum's pastries and cakes it was always a grand spread
Our favorites never denied as we each had a special taste
Always planned with décor, love and care it never went waste.
Childhood dreams dancing on the streets making great friends
Breezy beaches, watching the trains, childhood days soon it did end
Memories many, the chats with dad, mum, siblings runs through my mind
As the days of my childhood visits me my eyes wet and I go blind! ! !
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Childhood Was Robbed
A man whom I trusted,
A man whom I loved,
A man whom I cared for,
as a father, I thought he did a good job.
But then my childhood was robbed.
He turned violent.
He turned cruel.
His kindness certainly took a fall.
I was innocent.
I was free.
But he took all this away from me.
Why did he do it? I don't understand.
He certainly had the upper hand.
My mind is mixed up,
my feelings are sore.
Will the pain ever go away,
or will there be more?
He hurt me so bad, it's hard to explain.
He physically hurt me, which caused me much grief.
My childhood was robbed
Where's the relief?
He would raise his hand and clench his teeth,
in my family, there was no peace.
He ruled the family with an iron fist,
the result - my childhood was missed.
Now. Later in life, after all the pain.
I have to re-live it again and again.
He must pay for all he did,
because you see, I was never a kid.
So now, into court I have lobbed,
to tell the world....
Why my childhood was robbed.
poem by Trinny Trin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Many Years Into Yesterday
On the banks of the Mississippi,
we fished for catfish
with a bent pin on a string.
We sat in ragged trousers
patched and tied at the waist with string.
We watched the paddle steamers gorged with passengers
waving as they passed our way.
In those summer days of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
With innocent eyes,
we watched the world turn.
Saw the sadness in our daddy’s eyes,
watched the sweat run over his ebony muscles,
and heard him cry in our mammy’s arms
when a day’s work was done.
We saw the boss man whip him
under a blazing sun.
Saw the scars on indignation across his back
and heard the mournful songs they sang
at the closing of the day
in the summer of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
Then the world turned harsh and bitter.
At sixteen, they stole your virginity
and they also stole my soul.
Worked us like cattle
from sunrise until sundown.
Tried to break our spirit
and drive us deep into the ground.
The paddle steamers still chugged
through the muddy waters
as they did in those summer days of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
With manhood and womanhood reached,
we were sold on cattle market day.
New masters were found
and we were used as breeding stock
as our daddy and mammy were
in those summer days of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
My scars of indignation
are burnt deep within my soul
that they made a rebel out of me.
In silence, you will mourn your brother
now hanging from a tree,
and always remember our times together
in those summer days of our childhood
many years into yesterday.
13-14 March 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at the familiar house I call home
I am back home, sweet home after the journey
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at Daddy's children, full of expectations
The young man with soiled hands, still jumping on Daddy
The young lady wanting to tell Daddy all the stories of school
It does not matter that Daddy is tired! Daddy is always daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I know I have to travel again from home tomorrow
I may go to the nice places, be they palaces or hotels
Marble floors sparkling with reflections of cleanliness
But they are not as homely as home with daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at everybody wanting to know about the trip of daddy
Everybody wants to know what daddy has brought
Everybody is happy to see daddy home
Daddy is always strong, no tiredness even when tired
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Diary...of a Travellers Mind
A Diary Of A Travellers Mind
The world is a stage... where we perform an act,
and then to situations we blindly hastily react.
When our share is done we have played our part,
Either by breaking or mending a tattered heart.
Our childhood playmates with time all drifted away,
The shrinkng world bring them back some way.
Childhood memories come to tenderly play,
Innocent days of joy that never slipped away,
Sharing a smile that is extended so generously.
Wiping away controlled tears now flow effortlessly,
The many a tears and fears soon will see its end.
......when to the angels call our soul will lend,
The best we make, with sweet fragrance it must be
To the values of life which should be a priority...
Memory is a special diary that we carry in our hearts
so warm and gentle and wish it will never part,
Of the Wonder Years we shared with friends, loved ones
A treasured journey under God's glorious golden sun
poem by Shirani Ibrahim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost Innocence
Lost innocence!
with kind of naughtiness,
where to find childhood days again?
As we jumped, danced and made paper boats for enjoying rain.
In those days,
mumma's lap and daddy's shoulder were best to sit for games and plays.
Where? dear readers! where we have lost that fun and enjoy,
Where our dolls and car- scooter were our favorite toys.
We reach in the world of various tensions,
And lost special care and those particular intentions.
As now we are grown up,
And we reached in the world where our carrier got start-up.
Different ideas to earn are flowing in our minds,
But the innocent that we have lost is somewhere still binds.
We all have child inside our heart,
Who can shout, cry, laugh with same innocence and art.
But such innocence is lost somewhere,
And did you find that naughtiness of mine there?
poem by Tanveer Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Taking You Down Memory Lane
.
It is time to take you down memory lane
With the hit t. v. series “Spanky and our gang”.
They were on for many a year
They gave us laughter and a few tears.
There was Spanky, alfalfa, buckwheat
Froggy and Darlene, and we can’t forget
The teacher Mrs. Crabtree.
Alfalfa with his one strand of greased up hair
Standing straight up - two pounds of grease
And still not enough.
Spanky was the leader- he was short and round
Any problems, he had to be found.
Buckwheat was the daring young guy
He would do anything for a ride.
Then there was Froggy - his name says it all
Like a frog his voice did fall
Darlene with her shoulder length hair
And the voice of an angel from above
Had the “ our gang” all in love.
OH! The t. v. series that we used to watch
Like “ I love Lucy” and “ the honeymooners”
And “our hit tunes” with all the crooners.
What about “ Laurel and Hardy” and
“Abbott and Costello”
The two most comical fellows.
This is the trip down memory lane
And you know it’ll never be the same.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Childhood Revisited
memories of childhood...
such a wonderful, hazy, warm feeling,
special memories, filled with love
come welling up, and send my senses reeling,
aromatic fragrance, wafting up from the kitchen,
aroma of my mothers cooking,
father getting ready for work,
how handome he is looking,
I'm ready for school., hair plaited,
clutch my little, sisters hand tightly
bags perched securely on our backs
and off we go, skipping lightly,
lessons and studies, dilligently done,
supervised by dad, but always fun,
carefree, happy times were those
one could do, what one chose....
the familiar house, and the close kinship
so many friends, and closely knit friendship,
no cares, no worries, they were not for us,
only love and protection, and a special fuss,
what wonderful years I can never forget
a happy childhood is an important asset
and now we are grown........
only memories are left....
when we are feeling down, or nostalgic,
just go back to those magical years...
relive those times, that sparkling innocence,
that time, devoid of from doubt and fears
oh childhood...so quickly did you fly
your very memory makes us sigh...
and remember.and smile, and feel content
for the Godgiven wonderful years, so well spent...
oh childhood, I hope I have been a good mother,
what I learnt from you, I hope I have given another,
a treasure for my children, to recall, and to cherish
a treasure to revel in and sustain, when we perish.
poem by Arti Chopra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Standing On The Threshold
Standing on the threshold
Of the growing responsibilities,
I stare and peep out of mirror,
Mirrror of shadowed soul,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The innocent dreams behold,
Through imagination, the colorful world,
And try to seek some answers,
The answers may be right or wrong.
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
When decency couldn’t be hold,
And being jealous was not off beam,
When there should be a crowd,
Crowd of plays & players around,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
There were fairies in stories, told
Which looked real & with soul,
And we used to build our own home,
Home exactly like of fairies land,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The hands gradually gets fold,
With my fingers in it hold tightly,
For guiding me all the way,
The way that is now lost,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
The smile that was clear & bold,
Has now turned very wintry,
The unconditional loud laugh,
Now laughs loudly at me,
I look and rejoice my childhood,
Standing on the threshold.
poem by Sudha Pandey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hopscotch
Hopscotch
In a train going back home
A thousand scenes hurtling back
Those smug village lanes
So much missed
My doggie, Childhood
Friends and the hopscotch game
Those tiny legs
Tottering and
Picking up stone
From hastily drawn squares
Three hearts and six squares
Our childhood cheers!
Time stole the scenes
Yet they live on
Yes, at the back of our mind
Three hearts, three stones
And six drawn squares!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children's Day in India,2012
Being a child is what all love to be;
And when adult, we know we can never;
Childhood was best and everyone agrees;
But do children have freedom they deserve?
The smaller family norm has done great harm;
The child is neglected right from its birth;
It wallops in its faeces and urine!
It has to study when 'tis age to play!
What selfishness fills hearts of most adults!
They spare no time to watch the bud blossom;
World's children pine for love and yearn for care;
They are denied their rights when still in womb!
The crimes against children are on the rise;
Children are used, abused and not amused;
No nation thrives if children stay enslaved;
Let parents love their children sincerely!
Children are living wealth of nations prime;
Children are priceless gifts from God above;
Children are future parents and leaders;
Children need to be kept healthy, unharmed!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-11-12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!