This page is specially prepared for children poems. You can reach newest and popular children poems from this page. You can vote and comment on the children poems you read.
The Super Hostess
It was as a little child
And one who was very shy
That I first looked at the sky.
Soon enough I started wondering and asking myself
C K Rawat
‘Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, ‘the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
Chained To Inhumanity
Why does it feel am in a cage
Chained to my past can't free from it
Why have this shackles turned to be my doom
Why can't I get free why are the chain painful
Scars Have Past
Every day you see your Scars,
The scars that define your past,
The scars that define what you are,
The scars that will interfere with your future,
Another Of Those Curious Coincidences
On February 15, the House of Representatives passed a bill making it
unlawful to ship in interstate commerce the products of a mill, cannery
or factory which have been produced by the labor of children under
Alice Duer Miller
Why We Fight
This is the thing we fight:
A cry of terror in the night;
A ship on work of mercy bentâ??
A carrier of the sick and maimedâ??
Edgar Albert Guest
Act like them, you won’t make it
Appreciate their era, for who you are today
Griddles’ threaten your health, forgiveness heals
10 million budget function is nothing, for they are not alive
Here alone it makes me feel bad.
Mostly when i keep thinking about the plans we had, sad.
My heart is broken, no craft maker would even fix it.
"Oh, show me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!"
Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work in train.
They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in 'Fourteen
And entered them at the landward schools as though no war had been.
'No animal is half as vile
As Crocky-Wock, the crocodile.
On Saturdays he likes to crunch
Six juicy children for his lunch
55 Years Of His Existence.
There is blood, There is blood.
In that blood he sees 55 years of his existence.
Blood graces the white floor just as failure graces his existence.
He look long back in his life, He sees a 16 year old to love his loved ones forever.
He wears a long and solemn face
And drives the children from his place;
He doesn't like to hear them shout
Or race and run and romp about,
Edgar Albert Guest
Song Of Myself
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
The Female Of The Species
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Ode To Walt Whitman
By the East River and the Bronx
boys were singing, exposing their waists
with the wheel, with oil, leather, and the hammer.
Ninety thousand miners taking silver from the rocks
Federico Garcàa Lorca
Cover under the tree of white blood
Matching in pain and fear's
Sounds of Tear's on the black face of young and old, sold to sorrowful days
Who will go next? the question, but answer not given
Afe Tosin Shola
I am an alien
I live in a world where aggression and brutality are the codes
The people of this world find fun in watching people slowly lose their breath
Piol Tiek John
What We Needed.
What does our country need? Not armies standing
With sabres gleaming ready for the fight.
Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,
To bound the waters with an iron might.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The Old Huntsman
I've never ceased to curse the day I signed
A seven years' bargain for the Golden Fleece.
'Twas a bad deal all round; and dear enough
It cost me, what with my daft management,
I Asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;
He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season is here;
Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before,
And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.
Edgar Albert Guest
He never made a fortune, or a noise
In the world where men are seeking after fame;
But he had a healthy brood of girls and boys
Who loved the very ground on which he trod.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Two Old Houses
Away from mismatched buildings which seems to go on above the 7th heaven with perfect shape and structure yet with poorest enlightenment, there is a pretty yet petty little small town at the edge of the waters.
Away from cold hearts handling warm coffee sitting in crisp winter air, there is a town with warm hearts handling cold coffee in peaceful summer air.
A bit too far away from here in that pretty little town, there is a street with perfect enlightenment and finally in that street, there stands two houses proudly facing each other since 1987.
One house Is bold white and the other one is dull black with same structure, same kind of tulips in their garden which sway slightly in the same air as they nod each other greetings in the morning.
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
We have tested and tasted too much, lover-
Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder.
But here in the Advent-darkened room
Where the dry black bread and the sugarless tea
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,