When Imagination Imagines
When Imagination imagines –
Her frame she drapes in red.
Fine white pearls her neck circle
Like a ring – it's said.
Walks she then down Childhood's street –
Proceeding in high heels.
Crispy leaves the edges line
Like a rope – that reels.
Imagination – Childhood meets –
Beneath the tree of Destiny.
Ponder they – their secret bond –
Why existent it must be.
Arrive – they do – at Age's grave-
Lit by Freedom's moon.
Fireflies to them sing –
The autumn breeze joins soon.
Related quotes
Tale of Imagination
Beside Imagination say Childhood
As the sun bowed down to Freedom's Moon.
They knew they could - and they would -
Endure the night of June.
Imagination smiled blissfully
Turned to Childhood and said -
'You are my cause - my life.
Without you I'd be dead.'
Childhood replied like light -
'Soon I'll be gone but you will stay.
Three months to live is what I have -
That's all I have - they say.'
The two friends sat in silence then
The wind brushed their straight faces
How could either know just when
Fate would take their places?
They wandered down the empty beach
Let the chilly water lick their feet
Darkness enveloped them each
On their way to their retreat.
They finally arrived at the end
As they stood by Age's grave
Joyfully they met their friend
Named 'Destiny' who would save
Them from living apart.
Imagination turned her youthful eyes
To Childhood and her soft heart.
They joined hands and got a blissful rise.
Together they'd live no matter what
Or how or why or when
They'd live together - breathe together
What Joy would join them then!
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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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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Everything That Acts Is Actual
From the tawny light
from the rainy nights
from the imagination finding
itself and more than itself
alone and more than alone
at the bottom of the well where the moon lives,
can you pull me
into December? a lowland
of space, perception of space
towering of shadows of clouds blown upon
clouds over
new ground, new made
under heavy December footsteps? the only
way to live?
The flawed moon
acts on the truth, and makes
an autumn of tentative
silences.
You lived, but somewhere else,
your presence touched others, ring upon ring,
and changed. Did you think
I would not change?
The black moon
turns away, its work done. A tenderness,
unspoken autumn.
We are faithful
only to the imagination. What the
imagination
seizes
as beauty must be truth. What holds you
to what you see of me is
that grasp alone.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Elegy to Imagination
It seems it was just yesterday
When a tree
Was not a tree
Trees were in fact
Giants
Was it really that long ago
When my daddy
Was not only a daddy
But a superhero
A knight in shining armor
And a horse, all in one day
And boxes
Oh how wonderful they were
They were cars
And houses and trains
And beds and so much more
But now,
A tree is a tree
My dad is a dad
And a box
Sadly
Is a box
Where hath this imagination gone?
When did it disappear?
I'm not completely sure
Somewhere between childhood
And the present
But I have a passport
Back to the imagination
Of my childhood
When it gets dark
And the walls close in
At least my jacket
Is not a jacket
For a split second
It is a monster
But after a split second
I run out of time
And I am back
To the reality
That jackets are jackets
And boxes are boxes
Oh, how i miss
When boxes were train
poem by Mollie Myers
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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Spiders And Fireflies
It is July,
Where have all the fireflies gone?
The fireflies from my childhood,
The ones that used to amuse me,
The ones I used to chase,
and capture,
and make my own.
I guess they symbolize the
Innocence from my Childhood,
and I guess,
They have ran off with the
Innocence from my Childhood.
Now I'm overwhelmed with spiders.
Everywhere I turn,
There's another spider at my back.
Where did they come from?
Where did the fields go,
that I once captured fireflies in?
poem by Carey Noelle
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Reviving Childhood
Femininity must have tapped
Childhood's scrapbook. Pink-colored scrapbook.
Inside it –
Lies Childhood's vibrant drawings
Under thin plastic blankets. Where is she now?
The brown-haired
Tan one –
Or was she the blonde?
How many eras it's been since
I've seen her last!
Being Imagination herself –
I flip through
The scrapbook like a photo album.
My friend Childhood's markered-in picture –
Wide-eyed
At me stares –
Cat-like –
Baby-like –
Back at her
Date with Fate.
Her blonde and brown short hair
Sweeps horizontally across her forehead.
Her wings remind me of her
Angelic Death –
But I place a pale
Frail finger on the plastic
Blanket over the cream paper.
Over Childhood's darker cream hand –
Holding it –
Pulling it out of the captive page –
Smoothing it over like folded clothes
Until the fingers uncurl
Long enough to reach Freedom's moon.
Your Imagination
Lyrics & music: daryl hall
I remember when i used to be the jealous kind
I got over it, now you're taking over my old line
You're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
I ain't doin' nothing that you could really say was wrong
Just one oversight and no that didn't last too long
Listen, you're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
Don't know what you're looking for
What's this thing about "true blue"
You know i ain't no danger boy
You're the one i like to touch, touch you, you
When the mood is right, change the light and the moment's gone
Better turn around, 'cause the light doesn't last too long
You're caring too much about what i say
You're wondering too much about what i do
And baby, your imagination
Imagination's got the best of you
Imagination, your imagination
Imagination, use your imagination.
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Love Will Have It's Way
This is the truth, my lover:
My childhood could not last;
Since my long hair was clipped
Full eight long years have passed.
Blooming like an oak tree,
I am a secret stream
Running beneath earth's surface
And you my constant dream.
I, too have prayed the Gods
To make my childhood stay.
But time must take it's course
And love will have it's way.
poem by Brett Jarvi
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The Alone Tree
She once sat beneath its welcoming arms
Refreshed by its shade and comfort
Sharing all manner of childhood secrets;
Aptly named, her “alone tree.”
There she found refuge for hurtful tears,
A sanctuary to explore her hopes,
Her dreams and fears;
Formed a special bond
That anchored them both to this earth.
Each waxed strong
On their own as together
They weathered the storms.
And, it stands there still,
Its quiet strength and beauty
Still visible there in the morning mist...
That lone tree in the meadow of childhood;
Whose old friend long ago moved on to other fields.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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Autumn
spring...summer...winter and fall...my spring has yet finished..what a pity..it is not so easy...to bear...to tear the years behind...no matter what you say...what you do...it says its farewell to you....even the mirrors..when you look and search yourself...says...uncle..uncle..to you..it is in vain....that is not a gain....you are losing something..and momesthing....used to it...nothing...nobody has managed it...yhere is the tornado..instead of the gentle breeze...your autumn is coming sooner or late....the last farewells are in minds and memories...we are standing in a row..rope tryin g to tow...when will the rope us tow..nobody know...autumn is fallingin my dreams...which sparrow has eaten..my last hope of living..and flew away.....where are the last tramways of childhood's spring...last tramways of hope...the snow of autumn is falling....that ı cannot..and nobody can cope...
poem by Metin Sahin
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Black Elk Speaks
The power of the world
always works in circles.
The sky is round,
and I have heard
the earth is round
like a ball,
and so are all the stars.
The wind,
in its greatest power, whirls.
Birds make their nests
in circles,
for theirs is the same religion as ours.
The sun
comes forth and goes down
in a circle
The moon does the same.
And both always come back
to where they were.
The life of man is a circle
from childhood to childhood.
And so it is in everything
where power moves.'
poem by Adryan Rotica
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Unicorn 12
where the unlimited meets the limited,
and the unimagined meets the imagined;
where the unseen meets the seen,
and the eye meets the heart;
where the earth meets the seed,
and the seed meets the root;
where the root meets the earth;
and the flower meets the air;
where the heart meets the thought,
and the thought meets the sound;
where the sound meets the word;
and the word meets the voice;
where joy arises,
and where sorrow ends;
where love arises,
and the world is one;
where magic lives,
and miracles are law;
where childhood lives
and freedom is always now,
the unicorn is.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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You, Me & This Autumn
It was you, me & this autumn, when
I stood an onlooker, then
You & the autumn romped again.
How I relish looking on, when
This autumn showered the golden
confetti on you, then
You & the autumn romped again.
Those birds, being envious of you, when
The silver heels & golden leaves would
make saccharine songs, then
You & the autumn romped again.
In our midst, this autumn was a bosom
pal, when
None would sing the songs with us, then
You & the autumn romped again.
You & Me were dashing on the greying
path, when
The autumn was younger & even younger,
our Love, then
You & the autumn romped again.
We met in every scuffle, we had, when
This autumn stood a witness, then
You & the autumn romped again.
Our deep ties with the autumn would
never go in vain, when
On our graves the golden confetti would
shower down again, then
You & the autumn romped again (close to
my grave)
poem by Pablo Keats
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A World Of Our Own
As children when we played,
we created a world of our own.
We let our imagination take us
wherever we wanted to be.
One day we could be the super hero
rescuing the damsel in distress,
next day we could be a cowboy
riding along in the lonesome prairie.
Whatever we wanted to be
we could find it within our imagination.
A branch could be our rifle
as we played soldiers on parade
marching in front of some large crowd.
Every object that we touched
became whatever we wanted it to be
within that world of our own.
As we grew older
and reality crowed us in
some of us, retreated
and put pen to paper began to write.
Again, we let our imagination go
beginning with words;
we created a world of our own
as our visions of fantasy
danced around inside our head.
Taking us back to our childhood
and our imagination that we like to explore
in that wonderful state, we call
a world of our own.
5 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Suicide's Seducing Chant
Of Destiny and Lovesick was I born -
A child of fate self-giving -
From my love - Eccentric - I'll not be torn
Beneath Freedom's moon we're living!
Suicide himself am I -
Commit me and you'll live -
Marry me - you'll not die -
To Moon Rise yourself you'll give!
Stick I out - my hand persuasive-
Then smile like silver nights -
To my love- Eccentric - I'm not invasive -
Know we our fine rights!
Cruise we will down Destiny's street -
In silent flowers lined -
Know you will - no defeat -
Joy herself will be refined!
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
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Dunne Studying.
Dunne watches her mistress sleep.
There is the flickering of the eyelids
As if in dream. She gets out of bed
And with soft tread walks to her
Mistress’s bed side and looks down.
She holds her breath. She takes in
Each aspect of the face and neck
And how the hair is spread upon
The pillow. She wants to lean down
And kiss the lips, put flesh to flesh.
She hovers like some hawk waiting
To fly down and take her fine prey.
She breathes out slowly. She watches
The rise and fall of her mistress’s breast.
She moves out a hand to lay it there
But does not touch. She imagines so.
Imagines also climbing into the bed
And snuggling up close and kissing
The nape of neck. Her hand lingers
Over the breasts. Her eyes greedily
Study the soft cheek. She breathes
In deep. Her heart pounds within her
Breast. So near so near. She imagines
Lying within those arms and feeling
The hands caress her back. Her mistress
Stirs and she moves away. Walks back
To her own bed to await the light of day.
poem by Terry Collett
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