Childhood
It would be good to reminisce
of all that's lost from childhood afternoons,
can they return to me, I miss
those endless hours that are now in ruins.
It does return now, gently, still
perhaps in all the drops of a warm rain
yet we've forgotten what it will
remind us now of riches and no bane
of seeing and just living without care
like creatures yet as humans with no fear
and filled up to the locks of children's hair
a figure of a Thing, it would appear.
The shepherd's loneliness then, in the end
weighed down with endless distances today
and called as if ordained, touched by a friend
a lengthy thread of images, astray
in which it is no use simply to dwell
there is no memory for us to know
and to a stranger, childhood thoughts will tell
of afternoons, where life itself was slow.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (1906), translated by Herbert Nehrlich
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Related quotes
Childhood
It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,
for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely -and why?
We're still reminded-: sometimes by a rain,
but we can no longer say what it means;
life was never again so filled with meeting,
with reunion and with passing on
as back then, when nothing happened to us
except what happens to things and creatures:
we lived their world as something human,
and became filled to the brim with figures.
And became as lonely as a sheperd
and as overburdened by vast distances,
and summoned and stirred as from far away,
and slowly, like a long new thread,
introduced into that picture-sequence
where now having to go on bewilders us.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Lost My Childhood
Yes i lost my childhood.
And it will never return.
I lost the innocient life
which i used to live.
I lost the fairy dreams
Which helped me for sound sleep.
Yes i lost toy car which i paddled for long.
i remember those fairy tales my mom told me.
I was a small school kid once,
Yes, I lost those moments.
With every day passing i am losing it
And i know it will never return.
Its true that i miss those days
But thats what i can only do.
I wanted to become big
But i was never aware of this hell.
I lost that laugh, i lost that joy.
I want that childhood again
I want to be a boy.
But all i got is a loss of childhood.
poem by James yardy
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I miss my childhood
I miss my childhood,
Miss my mommy’s lap,
The lullabies that my grandpa sung,
The breakfast my granny prepared for me.
I miss my childhood,
Miss the brother-sister fights,
The way the small secrets we kept,
The days we dreamt of becoming someone big.
I miss my childhood,
Miss the friends’, who were never mean,
The teacher so caring,
The playground where we played for hours’.
I miss my childhood,
Miss my dad’s arms which did hold me and wrapped me throughout,
The chocolates he bought so frequently,
The wonder rides he took me to.
I miss my childhood,
Miss the tree where I sat for hours,
The teddy which was my life,
And the way you consoled me dad whenever I cried….
@copyrights reserved with Author.
poem by Jinal Oswal
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A childhood forgotten, A childhood lost
[NOTE: THIS POEM IS NOT TO BE USED ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY CONCENT. PLEASE USE THE LINKS IN MY BIOGRAPHY OR MESSAGES ON THIS SITE TO CONTACT ME. THANKS.]
I can't remember,
Skipping rocks on the pond,
My childhoods forgotten,
My Childhoods lost,
Going to the lake,
Sitting on the beach,
Playing with friends,
or dancing in the streets,
I can't remember,
The crash in the fog,
My childhood was forgotten,
My childhood was lost,
The doctor doing surgery,
Me getting pills,
I can't remember any of it,
None of it's clear,
I still can't remember,
How it is gone,
My childhood forgotten,
My childhood's lost!
Well I'm gonna end it right now,
I gonna kill myself off,
A childhood Forgotten,
A childhood lost
poem by Dani Baxter
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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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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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Childhoods End (live)
Track 9 _Misplaced Childhood_
And it was morning.
And I found myself mourning,
for a childhood that I thought had disappeared.
I looked out the window,
And I saw a magpie in the rainbow, the rain had gone
I'm not alone, I turned to the mirror,
I saw you, the child, that once loved.
The child before they broke his heart,
Our heart, the heart that I believed was lost.
Hey you, surprised? More than surprised,
to find the answers to the questions,
Were always in your own eyes.
Do you realize that you give it on back to her?
But that would only be retraced in all the problems that you ever knew,
So untrue.
For she's got to carry on with her life,
and you've got to carry on with yours.
So I see it's me, I can do anything
And still the child,
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction
And I found direction.
There is no Childhood's End.
There is no Childhood's End.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Oh lead me on.
Hey you, you've survived.
Now you've arrived,
to be reborn in the shadow of the magpie.
Now you realize, that you've got to get out of here.
You've found the leading light of destiny,
burning in the ashes of your memory.
You want to change the world.
You'd resigned yourself to die a broken rebel,
But that was looking backward.
Now you've found the light.
You, the child that once loved,
The child before they broke his heart.
The heart, the heart that I believed was lost
So it's me I see, I can do anything.
I'm still the child.
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction, and I found direction.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
I am your childhood friend.
Oh.. lead me on
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocence was stolen
You stolen my innocence
As a young child
The painful memories
Filled my childhood with
Tears, hurt, and pain
The unbearable pain
The hurt
You put me though
You lost nothing
You gain power
I lose my innocence
Lost my life
Lost my happiness
Gain nothing but pain
My childhood forgotten
My childhood lost
My childhood stolen by a man
that was my moms friend
You voilatd me
You molesed me
More then I can count on my hands and feet
You took the innocents out of the child
And left pain
poem by Tiffany Johnson
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Treasure N Time
O' treasure of my heart simply linger...
Where sweet memories have gone astray
For, i need desperately to see your image-
Through these lost neurons of yesterday;
Your absence leaves such an abyss
Nothing to grasp in this void called living
I am dying a thousand little deaths daily...
No return for the love i am giving;
Treasure of my heart remind me
How to be ever so humble in my need
Splash your image 'cross my psyche
I shall follow where ever you lead;
I have missed you ever so deeply...
And my hours are filled with unending fears-
The clock of life 'tis ticking rapidly
The second hand 'tis spent with my tears;
December 4,2011
By: Theodora (Theo) Onken
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Beautiful Ocean
Blue gill in the lake of my childhood
Underneath the burning sugarcane of my childhood
Which I never truly saw:
Nor were there stolen bicycles in the canal,
Or rabbits holes to housewives bedrooms
I could not even interpret what I thought of you
Lost in the scars and sweats over all of
Those meandering afternoons the visions of
A Cyclops introduced to the kaleidoscope you
Can tell he is enamored and his senses
Have been turned it pigs, and yet
The beautiful ocean opens all around him like
A flower the rest of the heroes escape into
Her classes- and he doesn’t even care.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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I Sit At My Desk Alone
I sit at my desk alone
as I did on many Sunday
afternoons when you came
back to me,
your arms aching for me,
though they smelled
of other women
and your sweet head bowed
for me to rub
and your heart bursting
with things to tell me,
and your hair
and your eyes
wild.
We would embrace
on the carpet
and leave
the imprint of our bodies
on the floor.
My back is still sore
where you pressed me
into the rug,
a sweet soreness I would never
lose.
I think of you always
on Sunday afternoons,
and I try to conjure you
with these words
as if you might
come back to me
at twilight
but you are never coming back
never.
The truth is
you no longer exist.
Oh you walk the world
sturdily enough:
one foot in front
of the other.
But the lover you were,
the tender shoot
springing within me,
trusting me with your dreams,
has hardened
into fear and cynicism.
Betrayal does that
betrays the betrayer.
I want to hate you
and I cannot.
But I cannot
love you either.
It is our old love
I love,
as one loves
certain images
from childhood
shards
shining in
the street
in the shit.
Shards of light
in the darkness.
poem by Erica Jong
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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
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My Innocent Childhood
soil soil and soil, , playing in the soil,
No fear of disease, no fear of toil.
What a wonderful days that was,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Only friend no foes,
no thinking of what dont and what does.
No fear of future, no thinking of present,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
What was the past, leave it, it surpassed,
what has to happen, lets face when it comes.
Future planning! What is this?
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
Play was religion and play was God,
only thing which gave fear, was my fathers rod.
Crying crying crying a lot, then said love you pappa,
i always remember my childhood, my innocent childhood..
poem by Zeya Mallick
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Spiritual Incarnations
Dreaming of early childhood
time cast cycles presence back
penetrating sight soul seeing
eyes absorbing orbs watching
window into interaction wordless.
Dreaming hair white in first childhood
little old man steps walks past memory
hair not yet length teenage dusty blond
those who walked this earth life before
return new incarnation in effort purpose.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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If You Forget Me
If you forget me
Who ever you are?
It will mean nothing to me
Who will go on living
Having forgotten the purpose
To a life
That drags heavy footed
Through grey streets
If you forget me
Just remember,
I have already forgotten
You,
And if you remember this,
Please remind me,
So that I will stop posting you
A christmas card
Whoever you are,
We who are strangers
Who go on living
Because we have forgotten
The pointlessness to our lives
Or why we wear sensible shoes
At a certain age
Or why some eat cereal
While others go empty into the morning
Why where how?
If you forget me
Remember to remind me that,
I have already forgotten you
Then I promise to stop sending you a christmas card
Or wishing you a happy new year
And if I have forgotten that you who are living
Have died and are now dead,
Then forgive me for sending you all those post cards
Without a return to sender
I may have simply forgotten to read the small print
On the invite card
Or maybe it rained
or I had a cold
Or was too busy forgetting the day of the week
And the pointlessness to my existence
Which when forgotten
Along with you, my friend,
Is less bleak
Infact it is quite pleasant
Okay
So let's just forget the whole miserable affair, okay?
poem by Yvette Smith
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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
Trains Of No Return
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
LO'EL ANI AKRO ANENI
AVKA BACHOL LAILO ANENI
TEN TAL UMOTOR ANENI
HO, ANENI
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
LO'EL ANI AKRO ANENI, ANENI, ANENI
SHAM ZA'AKU KOLOT ANENU
BA'ARU OROT ANENU
HU LO YESHAKER
KOL HA'OR, KOL HACHOSHE
SHE YOFER MIKOL RA'U EICH
DIN HA'ELOHIM MOLECH
HEM GAM ME VAKSHIM
YEH, YEH, we need the rain,
YEH, YEH, to wash the trains,
Endless nights,
Tortured days,
Trains of no return.
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
Don't let them grow again,
Oh, no, not again!
Don't let them roll again,
The trains of no return!
YEH, YEH, we need the rain...
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Madge
Old Madge who is in her late eighties is suffering from failing sight
But her memory it is flawless and she remains lucid and bright
She has vivid memories of her childhood which she feels happy to recall
I've had a good life she will tell you but my childhood years were best of all,
Her two great grand daughters are in their mid teens she says them I often do see
They are kind and lovely young ladies they always have been good to me
Her husband Tom died ten years ago they were married for fifty years
His end it was so slow and painful and memories of him still move her to tears
But she has got on with living life she says we cannot dwell in the past
The present is all that does matter though nothing in life seems to last
She surely is an inspiration the Madges of this World are rare
And though her sight it is slowly fading she is one unburdened by care
She always is happy and cheerful and she looks younger than her age
And from her life experiences she has learned much she surely is a female sage.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Enough Just To Know!
what is change?
a radical move to
the right or left?
a leaving of the past,
and all its baggage?
a fresh coat of paint?
a new lover?
the death of a friend?
seasons pass to seasons,
and then return...
changing, or evolving?
maybe an endless cycle!
where are we going?
do we know?
do we have to go?
will it be better or worse
when we arrive?
what are we looking for?
are we the picture,
or the paint not yet dry?
whose hand holds the brush?
and who is the painting for?
is it change we seek for?
or a return to something long forgotten?
must we create again and anew?
or is something there that we have lost?
does the wind know or care
where it came from,
and where it is going?
or is it enough just to know,
just to be, the wind?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sunday Afternoons
I sit at home
at my desk alone
as I used to do
on many sunday afternoons
when you came back to me,
your arms ached for me,
and your arms would close me in
though they smelled of other women.
I think of you
on Sunday afternoons.
Your sweet head would bow,
like a child somehow,
down to me -
and your hair and your eyes were wild.
We would embrace on the floor-
You see my back´s still sore.
You knew how easily I bruised,
It´s a soreness I would never lose.
I think of you
on Sunday afternoons.
poem by Erica Jong
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