Children Poems | Poemist

Popular Children Poems

American Primitive

by William Jay Smith

Look at him there in his stovepipe hat,
His high-top shoes, and his handsome collar;
Only my Daddy could look like that,
And I love my Daddy like he loves his Dollar.

The screen door bangs, and it sounds so funny--
There he is in a shower of gold;
His pockets are stuffed with folding money,
His lips are blue, and his hands feel cold.

......

A Timbered Choir

by Wendell Berry

Even while I dreamed I prayed that what I saw was only fear and no foretelling,
for I saw the last known landscape destroyed for the sake
of the objective, the soil bludgeoned, the rock blasted.
Those who had wanted to go home would never get there now.

I visited the offices where for the sake of the objective the planners planned
at blank desks set in rows. I visited the loud factories
where the machines were made that would drive ever forward
toward the objective. I saw the forest reduced to stumps and gullies; I saw
the poisoned river, the mountain cast into the valley;

......

Exposure

by Wilfred Owen

I

1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.

6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.

......

Prayer Before Birth

by Louis Macneice

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me

......

Mother Of God

by Bernice Hooks

The mother of God was great with child;
While she carried our Saviour so meek and mild;
A woman of virtue never knew a man;
Until after giving birth by Jehovah's plan;

Conceived by the Holy Spirit in the seed of a woman;
Jesus was both God and man as he trod the land;
Son of a carpenter, prophet, priest and King of kings;
Because Jesus is God who created everything;

......

Recent Children Poems

Where's Sam?

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Mary Davis dwelled on a fruit farm, adoring the company of animals.
Most beloved was sociable Sam, who made her giggle, like bubbles!

Whereas Mary was seven-years-old, Sam, her lamb, was still a baby,
Given to Mary by best neighbors, when they played in orange daisies.

Sam's white fleece was soft and fluffy, like a mound of feather pillows;
Like clouds of endless, turquoise skies, blown by breezes, into billows.

Sweet-natured Sam and Mary's bond, was special. Soon inseperable!

......

Silver and Gold

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Johnny MacAlister was six-years-old, young enough still for wishes,
Baby sister, Rosie, was all of three, all giggling and adorable kisses.

With fond, indulgent parents, the family was content in their home,
In a town, sleepy in sunlit day, where a scarlet cock used his comb.

Johnny played with Rosie every day. He loved to get her laughing;
As if a gaudy parade of jesters and clowns, chanced to be passing!

Forget-me-not days brought fast friends, in fruitful times of flowers,

......

The Rose of my Heart (for H&H)

by Lee-Ann Azzopardi

You're the rose of my heart
That continues to grow
With my tears to grow
With my tears, I'll take care of you
You will rise among the artifical ones
Tall and beautiful
As I puck you out
And put you in my buttonhole
Yr scent fills the room with youth
To dream yr smile is my guest

......

You're My Deep Breath

by Frangipani Rhett

Today my child slammed the door too hard
And I took a deep breath and thought of you
You set the standard for how to show love
And so I shifted towards compassion

Last Sunday I met up with a friend for coffee
And she talked for so long, I got bored
I took a deep breath and thought of you
And remembered the presence you gave me

......

Horcruxes

by Peter Quitadamo

Having children is like having horcruxes.
Part of me is out in the world away
From my protection and each day I worry.
Will someone find these disconnected parts
Of me? Will they treasure them as I do?
Will they hunt them down to get to me?
Each wound on them burns me with lightning.
I wish I was still Tom Riddle; simple and whole.
Yet like Harry, I would give myself for these.