in Aging Poems
Many, many years ago
When I was just a kid,
And I had just began to grow,
There's stuff I had and did.
Published: April 9, 2020
Growing up is inevitable. No matter how much we want to hold onto our childhood, life is going to move forward. At some point, our childhood becomes something we look back on instead of something we’re currently experiencing. Each generation’s childhood is marked with different characteristics. No matter how old you are, it seems that every generation believes life was slower and sometimes better than daily life today. This is a collection of poems about those simpler times. The poems are filled with sentimental longing for the days gone by. What fond memories do you have from your childhood? For a moment, take a stroll down memory lane and reminisce about the good old days. They might be just a memory now, but what a beautiful memory they are. They are a reminder of glorious days, the days that made you who you are today.
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in Change Poems
Take me back to those simpler times
When all I sang were nursery rhymes,
When stealing chocolates was my only crime,
When sleep used to come early, at nine,
This poem is very relatable. I remember always wanting to act like an adult and dressing up like one. Looking back, I should have enjoyed being a kid for as long as I could. Let this remind...
of days so long in the past
when I wished I would grow up so fast.
The childhood of a person might be a mixture of both pleasant and unpleasant memories. Mine is dominated by unpleasant memories, but I love to read and listen to the pleasant experiences of...
in Home Poems
Drivin' around to the back of the house,
Gettin' out, walkin' in, almost unannounced...
The TV's are on and so are Mother's beans.
That was beautiful.
So simple and plain and it turned out amazing.
The last four lines were gorgeous, amazing, beautiful!
Though time has passed and gave you struggles, you inspire me...
I am from morning dew cold against small bare feet
and birds chirping a beautiful song
From nature that sounds like the most beautiful orchestra
I've ever heard, opening my tired eyes to the world.
Today's poem that uses the "I am from..." line is an instruction I was given for an essay in a retirement center's writing class a while ago. I wonder if that's what prompted Patterson to use...
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