Childhood Poems
In Memory Of Alfred Pollexfen
by William Butler Yeats
FIVE-AND-TWENTY years have gone
Since old William pollexfen
Laid his strong bones down in death
By his wife Elizabeth
In the grey stone tomb he made.
And after twenty years they laid
In that tomb by him and her
His son George, the astrologer;
And Masons drove from miles away
To scatter the Acacia spray
......
Nostalgia
by Billy Collins
Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called "Find the Cow."
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.
Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
......
All In The Golden Afternoon
by Lewis Carroll
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretense
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
......
77. ADHD
by Kea Campbell
I turn on the shower and my thoughts quiet to a whisper.
I start to undress as I ease my brain's exert.
My eyes avoid the mirror and I step into the tub.
My mind starts to wonder while reality falls out of touch.
I try to clear my head and focus on being present.
I re-feel shame for granting permission after his ceaseless exhortation.
My musings recall his unwanted hands on my skin.
My body stiffens in distress and the trauma floods right back in.
......
Cuts and Bruises
by Keeley Holden
When we are children life feels so slow
But now that im old-
I look at my arms and see healed cuts and the ghost of bruises i had long ago
On my right arm i see the grayish healed gash from when I cut my arm on a sharp shelf in our kitchen
On my knee i see the ghost of a bruise from when i fell off my bike as a child
On my face i see the scars of my acne from my teenage years
I look in the mirror and no longer see a child.
I see the person family shaped me to be.
Cuts and bruises healed by time and love
Cuts and bruises to remind me where i come from
......
The Young And Green
by Juliana Heathcock
Where is the girl I used to know?
The one that wasn't always on her phone,
That could make a friend wherever she may go.
What happened to the temper tantrums she would throw?
This new girl, I don’t think I like very much.
She doesn't like the way she looks, and she doesn't know who to trust.
She doesn't like to talk to strangers and only will if she must.
She’s left the younger version on a shelf to collect dust.
......
77. ADHD
by Kea Campbell
I turn on the shower and my thoughts quiet to a whisper.
I start to undress as I ease my brain's exert.
My eyes avoid the mirror and I step into the tub.
My mind starts to wonder while reality falls out of touch.
I try to clear my head and focus on being present.
I re-feel shame for granting permission after his ceaseless exhortation.
My musings recall his unwanted hands on my skin.
My body stiffens in distress and the trauma floods right back in.
......
Winter Girl
by CK Wendell
My winter girl
Forever filled with light on darker days
And my mind sees your hand in mine
Before we cross a parking lot
In the mud and the snow
With a constant sense of purpose
To always do the thing
That needs to be done
Before we lose the day
And that look that always knows me
......
75. Surviving
by Kea Campbell
Dinners should be a luxury in concerted cultivation households,
But it was the worst part of each day because of your praise-seeking tolls.
Sure, you fed my stomach and sought to found generations of culinary tradition,
But little do you realize that you fostered my appetite's detrimental addictions.
The dining room was a reformatory and I dreaded the table's restraints.
They left scars all over my psyche as you told me I couldn't leave until I finished my plate.
The taste began to dull but you commanded me not to be wasteful.
The culture of gluttony is under-stigmatized, and the conditioning of over-satiety is disgraceful.
......
73. Homecoming
by Kea Campbell
I'm back at my childhood's residence,
Except I was forced to be a child of adult-like essence.
I'm back in my chambers full of material blessings,
Except it was a trade off for lack of my handlers' emotionally mature presence.
Home has always been a location, not a feeling,
Because in this house, I must stay quiet to omit the mental beatings.
Home will always be known to mistreat me,
Because unless I am perfect, I'm subject to apathetic briefings.
......
