The Author's Early Life
I will write a sketch of my early life,
It will be of childhood day,
And all who chance to read it,
No criticism, pray.
My childhood days were happy,
And it fills my heart with woe,
To muse o'er the days that have passed by
And the scenes of long ago.
In the days of my early childhood,
Kent county was quite wild,
Especially the towns I lived in
When I was a little child.
I will not speak of my birthplace,
For if you will only look
O'er the little poem, My Childhood Days,
That is in this little book.
I am not ashamed of my birthright,
Though it was of poor estate,
Many a poor person in our land
Has risen to be great.
My parents were poor, I know, kind friends,
But that is no disgrace;
They were honorable and respected
Throughout my native place.
My mother was an invalid,
And was for many a year,
And I being the eldest daughter
Her life I had to cheer.
I had two little sisters,
And a brother which made three,
And dear mother being sickly,
Their care it fell on me.
My parents moved to Algoma
Near twenty-three years ago,
And bought one hundred acres of land,
That's a good sized farm you know.
It was then a wilderness,
With tall forest trees abound,
And it was four miles from a village,
Or any other town.
And it was two miles from a schoolhouse,
That's the distance I had to go,
And how many times I traveled
Through summer suns and winter snow.
How well do I remember
Going to school many a morn,
Both in summer and in winter,
Through many a heavy storm.
My heart was gay and happy,
This was ever in my mind,
There is better times a coming,
And I hope some day to find
Myself capable of composing.
It was by heart's delight,
To compose on a sentimental subject
If it came in my mind just right.
If I went to school half the time,
It was all that I could do;
It seems very strange to me sometimes,
And it may seem strange to you.
It was natural for me to compose,
And put words into rhyme,
And the success of my first work
Is this little song book of mine.
My childhood days have passed and gone,
And it fills my heart with pain
To think that youth will nevermore
Return to me again.
And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o'er,
And not criticise as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.
poem by Julia A Moore
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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
Dear Love, Do You Remember?
Dearest one, do you remember,
As we sat side by side,
How you told me that you loved me,
Asked me to be your bride.
And you told me we'd be happy,
Through all the years to come,
If we ever would prove faithful,
As in the days when we were young.
Oh! how well do I remember,
The kind and loving words,
And now as I sat dreaming,
The thoughts my memory stirs.
But the days have passed before me,
And the scenes of long ago,
But I can never forget the
Days that have passed o'er.
Oh! how clearly I remember
The days when we were young,
How we would tell to each other
Of happy times to come,
And as we would sit together,
That dear loved one and I,
Oh, sat dreaming of the future,
And childhood days gone by.
Dearest love, do you remember
The first time that we met --
Our youthful days have gone, love,
I hope you love me yet,
Now we are growing old, love,
Our heads will soon be gray,
May we ever love each other
Till from earth we pass away.
poem by Julia A Moore
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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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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
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My Childhood Faded Away
My childhood has faded away
In those days I had no bills to pay.
I close my eyes and remember those days.
Childhood dreams filled with love,
Hide and seek, my baseball glove,
No heavy chains,
Warm summer rains.
Fiery dragons, flying high in the sky,
Pirate ships, Captain Bligh.
Munching sweet apples,
Candy peppermint,
Rosy red cheeks,
Innocense.
Long ago, not by chance,
Under my bed, monsters danced.
Through the years a backward glance,
Wishing I had my bell bottom pants.
Eyes so bright,
Flying a kite,
Birds singing cheeful songs.
Quiet days, star filled nights,
Winter snow, on frozen lawns.
I wish that I was back today,
But I've put that life far away,
My childhood moments that I recall,
Childhood years, were the best of all.
poem by Philip Lore
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Swallows in the summertime
Swallows in the summertime
The swallows have returned again,
Reminding me of those halcyon days of my youth,
Many years have passed since those blissful days,
I would spend many happy evenings watch them dart around.
The swallows always return each summer,
Spreading their joyful wings over England's green and pleasant land,
Every summer I wonder how many more times will I see the return,
Although it's summer again, I ‘am approaching the winter of my life.
When the swallows return again next year again,
I wonder if I will still be here to see them again,
Flying on the wing under the clear blue skies of summer,
If I ‘am, I will sit by the babbling brook and watch their dance once more.
If I see the swallows return once more,
I will remember those summer days of long ago,
When I was a lad and the countryside seemed to go on forever,
And in my mind I will be young again.
By Christopher Tye
poem by Christopher Tye
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Return my Childhood
If I get a chance to bargain
Will ask the Almighty again;
‘O God! If thy really could
Give me back my childhood.
I want back my those days,
Innocent acts and plays,
Tricky games and cycle race,
Showing friends masked face,
Digging pits in soil of land,
Drawing sketches in the sand,
Running after the butterflies,
Watching planes in the sky,
Playing with the puppy,
In parties becoming happy,
Hopping in the streets
Going to buy sweets,
Doing things not known to me,
At times crawling on knees,
After school watching cartoons,
Little sleeps in the afternoons,
Doing independent activities,
Free from all responsibilities,
Free from all kind of tensions,
Asking confound questions.’
Childhood is morning of life
From here life begins thrive;
No hardness, no tough heat,
Childhood is innocent n neat.
‘Return my childhood,
O God! if thy could.’
(c) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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7. Childhood
It was hard when I tried to think back
To remember the bad and the good
Reliving old memories I thought I’d forgot
Way back in my early childhood
My brain started sorting out data
So much how did one childhood cope?
I lived for today’s not tomorrow’s
All new days were full of fresh hope
My winters had snow covered pathways
So deep my poor frost bitten toes
With cotton wool coatings on rooftops
Where long slender icicles froze
In springtime’s the weather was milder
Like frolicking lambs we would play
Hide and seek, football or cricket
Would keep us amused through the day
By summer the sun stayed much longer
And gave off much more of its heat
Sandcastles, seaside and hotdogs
Where often a late weekend treat
Each autumn saw changes in colour
Leaves turned brown with much less green
Days got much darker by teatime
So outside no children were seen
Once again back round to winter
The rough weather fading my tan
My childhood became one year older
With seasons back where they’d began
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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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
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Parents In Our Life
Our life is a secondary school,
where we sometimes become fool,
Parents are so good,
They care us from our childhood,
If we are sometimes not well,
there faces of heart naturally swell.
house made by them is like my indian land,
in our life they have a higher position to stand,
We respect them the most,
For them we are always small,
Our parents are so good,
they care us from our childhood.
poem by Aastha Poddar
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The Uncertainty Of Memory
my childhood
yes
MY childhood
as i am fixed
here
the line is dead
oh for a diary
but no one had told me
and no one had said
then
and all those days
kept from the ink of a pen
an itch not scratched
only shuffled faces
in a box
but do the words match?
and do the lives stitch?
together
i am set
to this life
now
and those thoughts moved away
some time ago
from this fractured memory
frame by frame
inventing days to remember?
oh for a diary
just a simple
cardboard box
full of MY days
a book for each year
but maybe it was just
so fucking dull
i try to fill up those spaces
inside this solid warm sparking mass
of my thinking
teased into every corner
of those years
in this place where it all goes on
this well-used filing cabinet
and the lost details
of my childhood
yes
MY childhood
i TRY to be there
i fail
to really be that boy
In my head
at four or five who knows?
the teachers hand
my mothers smile
my sisters face
the house
that boy of seven i was
Elm Park Essex 1961
who was kicking balls
and raiding fridges
for something interesting
and two biscuits made me smile
every day
and of course
the lemonade
on Saturday
and those times of
holding wooden guns
my father had made
lovingly carved
from the noise of his shed
HIS place
he said
in a small bedroom
i moved
too cold in winter
ice inside the window
so downstairs
by the fire i sketched
other worlds
on that white space
killing with a well sharpened pencil
before the uncertainty
of memory
before the correctness
of politics
poem by Tony Sweeting
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Winter Days Why Do You Came!
Snowy winter days once again came!
Ah Winter days
how did you came?
Haven't you met through your road crying summer days?
Haven't you met through your ways crying Autumn days?
Ah snowy winter days
Haven't you met your friends
Through your road
while you were coming here
Ah sweet summer days
They left us in vain
They Saw our pain
Even the sun above cried for children's ache
First time through my life time
I knew even the sun above has a heart.
While unfortunately human beings didn't have!
Ah chilly winter days how could you come here?
Haven't you met through your road mourning Autumn days.
They were broken when they left
As i know you are friends.
If you ever met them there
They would tell you about our aches.
How pain we've passed through
They saw and they felt
They went home crying all alone
Ah snowy cold winter days how could you come here?
While our world is bared it's clothes
And humanIty is bared of pity as well as the mercy
Poverty huged the cold and has wrapped our world
Ah, how much pain can we bear yet!
Ah, poor souls are in pain till the vein!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Children Playing
Children playing in the street
Dirty face and dirty feet
Skipping ropes and singing songs
This will last all summer long
Fresh air as there playing out
Keeps them fit as they run about
Games they play I know so well
As my journey back to my childhood dreams
Remembering the days no money about
All us kids just played out
Ancient games our parents would play
I still remember to this day
Skipping ropes tug of war
And playing tag I adored
Playing out from dawn to dusk
Happy were we school was done
Dinner time what did we care
With so many friends out there
Mum calls us in its getting late
And homely food on a plate
Slept like a log without a doubt
My energy all burnt out
Just what will tomorrow bring
Our gang is talking about building a swing
These pleasant days I remember well
Because many times in my childhood dwell
To see a smile on a Childs face
The world is a happier place
07 09 2010
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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Good Ole Days
Oh, the good ole days,
why can't this day be,
the good ole days
thinking of those days,
long ago, when old age,
was on the horizon,
childhood just a step behind,
yesterday just a memory,
childhood memories when,
oh, so carefree
today the present,
will be those good ole days,
when old age is upon us
we once again wished we
were back in time and,
oh so care free.
wrote 12-31-06
Lovelist Stage Of Life
Childhood is the loveliest period of life.
It is full of mother's love, father's pamper and teacher's blessings.
Unaware of the worldly problems.
No tension and no worries, freedom everywhere.
Freedom to laugh, jump and play.
Lovely are the childhood days.
Lessons at school are interesting but sometimes boring too.
Gatherings at assembly hall in the morning,
watching nearby friends and teachers with squint eyes during mornings prayers are lovely too.
Above all, the bed time stories of mother are very exciting.
It takes us to a fantasy world.
Lovely are the childhood days.
poem by Sarada Panda
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Never could you hide from...
1. Never could you hide from
Years, passed in turn.
Childhood is left for
Adult's life by all.
R.: But the school desk
I'm dreaming,
And the school books
I'm reading,
I remember all the teachers
One by one.
And the freckled girl is crying
From my childhood, when I'm
Trying to recall in mind the old time.
2. If you know, the childs
Try to grow fast,
Being in hurry
Turn to man, at last.
R.
3. We feel being tighted
In the golden age,
But we long for childhood,
When it comes to end.
R.
song, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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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
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Summer Days of Yesteryear
We often live surveying the past
as a summer season comes around,
and selecting the days of living freely
in our memory will be found.
We scrutinize the events of other Summers
experiencing great pleasure and delight
that once we knew when we were just
youngsters when life seemed to be all right.
Through the fading days of yesteryear
we filled our life with many dreams.
From childhood days to adulthood days
it was just a natural step it seems.
We miss the thrills that once was ours
the days we felt were always free.
We live it over each Summer time
and always remains a pleasant memory.
Too swiftly is the flight of time,
Though plentiful be the exuberant ways
that lead us down memory lane
to the scenes of other Summer days.
Though another Summer season shall end,
One wish for all of you we hold
May Summer always bring an abundance
of joy and memories a hundred fold.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Children's Special...
Every child is born with a gift,
and there is a day to celebrate it.
A child is your treasure given by God,
Be blessed so, and pray to the Lord,
for that child gives you happiness,
Gone are your day's of loneliness.
Childhood does not last,
Every child remembers the past,
It depends on how you groom,
Give the child more than a room.
A child carries an ocean of innocence,
not knowing it's consequence,
does a deed that is not desired,
Many parents have always admired.
Thinking of a day for children,
is a wonderful thought,
Cherish every moment of what they have brought,
to you with their playful minds,
which do leave a trail of joy in your mind.
Remember your own childhood days,
make it more than special today,
make the children feel how good you felt that day,
when you celebrated the children's day,
in your childhood days.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Our Childhood Reminiscences
But this is how we were when kids;
And this is how most passed childhood;
We dressed and played all kinds of games;
We never knew what risks, life brings.
Our childhood life was best of all;
Our parents met our every want;
What love they gave, we can’t repay;
Our lives went off in dreams and play.
Those pleasant days cannot come back;
The memories are evergreen;
As children we were angelic!
Oh, what a change when now adults!
Those were the days of real joy;
A little pain was there, sometimes;
To most, it was a care-free life;
We wish but can’t go back in time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-27-2007
poem by John Celes
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