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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Related quotes
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
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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Rondeau Reclimbing Childhood Tree
In rhyme reclimbing childhood tree we try
to paint trunk soaring through dark clouds to sky
as tot from cot in garden grot advanced
upon strong branch in innocence. Dream chanced
reclimbing childhood tree.
Tot tottering trotted to Spring sprig so spry
that, tempting, seemed to beckon on the sly:
imagination is thereby enhanced,
reclimbing childhood tree.
Child's venture wild seemed Everest so high,
as on a whim adventured, - tree limbs fly
towards the heavens where their branches danced.
Sage in old age keeps image deep entranced
recalling day way up above grass dry
reclimbing childhood tree.
19 October 2011
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Weep For The Past
When I would go running to father for hugs
and admiring Nan's collection of teacups and mugs,
When I would pick daisies from the lush garden grass
and go with my mother to morning Sunday mass,
When I stored collections of shiny coloured stones
and the dog collected and buried his long juicy bones,
When brother would kick his football all day
and I would sit happily in the garden to play,
When I would paint pictures of my childhood and me
and now I weep back to where I loved to once be.
poem by Pensive Phoenix
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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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Late autumn
The yellow veldt, the skeleton chestnut trees
specs of orange-red aloes in the kopje
are near to the old white house
and in the late afternoon shades draw long lines
while I walk up to the house on the red-brown dirt road
and most of the flowers in the garden are stripped bare
but a few irises are flowering yellow,
purple and cream brown
and the sky is dull blue and the early evening cold
is already on the wind that is rustling everything
and after years I open the garden gate
are coming back to my childhood home
stripped from illusions,
and I am bare from the childhood innocence
but full of hope
and looking through a mature man’s eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.
quote by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden, The
do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
There's a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesn't lie.
He doesn't wait for love to hold on to
He doesn't lie. he doesn't wait...
Johnny's in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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When My Childhood Dies
You see it in the my eyes,
The walls are built up on me.
Delightness will replaced my guiltiness,
When my childhood dies.
Afraid to show surprising face because of my shame of be young and dumb.
It's best to hold your tongue,
When my childhood dies.
Uniqueness deemed unwisely on
One’s life must it fit in.
And wear a different skin,
When my childhood dies.
Behind adult disguise,
A too tight gown.
All naturalness shut down,
When my childhood dies.
You see it in the eyes,
At nine or eight.
Before, if that's their fate,
When my childhood dies soon.
poem by Evevona Plummer
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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
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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The Garden
The Garden
By: Adam M. Snow
The garden blooms to your delight;
to and from this very night.
When you are but one;
this garden blooms until you're done.
Keep that in mind but out of sight;
this garden is full of roses so white.
Open up and let shine the sun;
for Springtime has only begun.
Show off your garden so bright;
for there is no need to fight.
Now go on, no need to run;
when you're in your garden my son.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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On Child Labour
Childhood years are something we treasure,
But there are those who have not achieved this pleasure.
A childhood they could not savour,
As they had to do rigorous child labour.
Can there be a gamble of greater sorrow?
Than giving up your childhood,
For some food for tomorrow....
poem by Sameer Daniel Gardner
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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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