Children Poems

Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
...

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
...

When these graven lines you see,
Traveller, do not pity me;
Though I be among the dead,
Let no mournful word be said.
...

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, 'Speak to us of Children.'

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
...

WE who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told:
...

Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.
...

From Child's Garden of Verses

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
...

She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.
Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.
A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt
Someone she loved once passed by – too late
...

Part One


The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry.
...

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers---
And that cannot stop their tears.
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A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --
Children three that nestle near,
...

Tell all the truth but tell it slant,
Success in circuit lies,
Too bright for our infirm delight
The truth's superb surprise;
...

CHILDREN, ye have not lived, to you it seems
Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams,
Or carnival of careless joys that leap
About your hearts like billows on the deep
...

Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts
...

When voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast
And everything else is still
...

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
...

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --

...

listen children
keep this in the place
you have for keeping
always
...

Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder,
And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break,
Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder:
Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake!
...

The Little Wooden Dog
Alice and Max lived with their mother Margo, in a small Austrian village in the mountains and had lost their father to an accident when they were very small children and lived with their mother who was a seamstress and made all of their clothes because they had very little money to live on. They lived in a small cottage in a little hamlet called Wednesdayburg on the slopes of mount Ludivik which was named after one of the old Austrian Kings of long ago. Alice was now seven and Max was six years old and they always wanted a little dog of their own but their mother was unable to afford a real one because they only had enough money to live on as they lived quite a meagre existence as it was. So the children amused themselves as best they could and played with the other children in the village when they were not at school which was lower down the mountain.
One of their neighbors, a man called Alexis who was now getting on a bit and lived on his own but had always been a family friend and lived just a short way away on the edge of the village making his living working in the woods chopping down trees that would be used for firewood during the winter and he also made wooden toys and puzzles for the children at Christmas which was always celebrated in style in the village which all the children enjoyed. Christmas was coming and the children were excited as usual but they knew that their mother had very little money coming in from her occasional sewing she did around the village and taking in the odd lodger for a short while quite often through the skiing season. So Christmas would be a magical time as the love they shared with their mother, made up for any lack of presents.
Alexis would always look out for Margo and her children sometimes when she went out the back door of their little cottage she would find wood for the fire and the occasional item of food to help her through the week and even though she did not like to take it she had no choice so was grateful for whoever left it there but she assumed it was Alexis who she also had feelings for but was unable to tell him for fear of rejection.
...

Children of Persia
Some are the brothers of humankind
And own them, whatsoever their estate;
And some for, for sorrow and self- scorn
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crime cruelty
current enduring
child exploitation
child dice labour
...

Hearing the school children
I am reminded of my own days in the playground
Where I would laugh and play
Knowing how to keep aggressive kids at bay.
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ONCE THIER INNOCENCE HAS BEEN SHOT

One of my favorite qualities in children…of which they are innately blessed
is the enthusiastic, unbridles innocence…which they all possess.
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Children sing uninhibitedly when they're happy…like they haven't got a care.
Children will begin to dance spontaneously when there's music in the air.

Children will climb as high as they can climb…before they realize they can fall.
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BETTER…GRAND…GREAT

As a parent the first thing you discuss with your partner, your husband or your wife is the hope your children will be healthy and have a happy life.
...

"Jesus, however, said, "Let the little children
come to me, and stop keeping them away,
because the kingdom from heaven
belongs to people like these."
...

When we are children, if we're lucky, our parents form a team…they teach us how to love and show us how to dream….they keep us safe and warm and happy…they make sure that we're well fed…they are the ones, when we're afraid of the dark, who check for monsters neath our bed.

But the children of war…and their parents…are not so lucky because day or night…on the ground or in the air…how can parents protect their children when there are monsters everywhere?
...

Epigraph for a Child of the Holocaust
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
...