#boyhood poems on Hello Poetry

E C Vadnais Aug 2016

Where is that little boy?
The one I saw riding down the grassy hill.
I saw him look down that hill,
Summon courage, gauge the drop,
Judge the moment before he might be lost.

Was he lost?
I saw him make the run,
The spokes of his bicycle flashing in the sun.
Twice he ran the hill, sharp right and
Sped along the river as if he could not be lost.

Was he lost?
While I was gone did he go?
Tell me no, though I know
Boys grow to be men
Not far from loss.

© 2016

#loss #wonder #memory #simple #boyhood

Kapil Dutta Feb 2016

Boyhood

...

Five million seconds ago in History,
was born a mind full of curiosity.

Carried around in the skull
of a boy mere fourteen,
with an absent self
glued to a skinny body.

He would ponder for hours,
about everything visible
through the sockets of his eyes.
Life, Death,
Mortals and their problems,
all alike.

The Universe for him was a grand magical experience,
with the existence of the magician its greatest trick.

His role in this play called ‘Life’,
he decided, was to uncover the truth
behind the curtain of illusions.
And mask the cracks
of this sculpture called Society
with his creative solutions.

As the years went by,
the boy would raise
castles out of thin air,
with tools made of
Fantasy and Imagination.

Little did he know that
the concrete of his structures
were diluted with innocent assumptions.

That is when Reality shot him,
with bullets made of Solitude.

“Wake up, you need to make money”, she said,
as she wreaked his empire floating on the river Naive.

She would adopt him as her own son.
And claim his ideal self, his new father.

Together,
they would cremate
his boyhood years
and carve him into
The Man He Always Wanted To Be.

...

-KD

Also read "The Man I Want To Be" for context : http://hellopoetry.com/poem/692212/the-man-i-want-to-be/

#life #living #future #death #imagination #society #fantasy #creation #mortal #boyhood

Samuel Preveda Feb 2016

(untitled)

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock
looking down into the turning water of the river below

Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests.

A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold
glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill
dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

Work in progress, frozen in time.

#memories #imagination #winter #glitter #running #water #rivers #imagery #boyhood #preveda

Jude kyrie Dec 2015

Going Home

The ghost are everywhere.
I see them under trees.
In gardens and ice cream parlors.
Going home after all the passing years
It is a haunted place
yet it will always be home.
The small English town
Lichen covered stone everywhere.
Even the cobbled streets remain.
Shining wet in the ever present rain.
Between the faded
old fashioned shops
on either side of the street.
A church clock strikes three.
As children jump from
the village school steps.
Like a soul returning to heaven.
I see a boy with his scruffy dog.
They are happier than billionaires.
The dog reminds me of my boyhood pet.
A scruffy mongrel running happily
with an even scruffier boy.
It is only another ghost.
But I think it is me.

jude
was born and raised in England
but has lived in Canada for many years.
whenever I visit England.
I get these emotions.
and for some silly reason.
still say I am going home.
smiles
Jude

#memories #reflection #boyhood #returning

Joseph Dazzio Nov 2015

Trials of War

There his men stood
With fear and uncertainty,
Questioning if their small regiment could
Defeat the great and mighty enemy.

"The enemy flaunts their might,
But what lies at their core?
For glory and honor we fight,
Virtues only God can adorn.

"Aye!" Returned his men.
"And we shall charge forth into this
Fire, only to reach the other side,
If eternal Glory you desire!"

"Aye!" Returned his men.
But as the Captain spoke, rushing
Forth like a herd of buffalo on
Stampede, the enemy came into sight.

"Fear not their numbers!
Fear not their strength.
Fear only the cowardice
That overtook the other ranks!"

"Aye!" Returned his men.
With the enemy drawing closer,
The Captain had a final word to rouse:
"Rally forth, men, and fight for

The House! fight for the Glory,
Fight as hard as your body allows!" Louder than ever,
Came "Aye!" from his men, their hearts
Swelling within as they saw him sprint towards

The sea of opposition, they all
Followed to the hardest, most daring
Battle in which they'd ever been.
Just then, the two houses clashed.

Left and right, men engaged men
In their own death clasps, some wrestled,
Some tackled with force, but none ran.
For they were married to this cause which they could not divorce.

Up front, some men caught sight
Of Captain, a true Achilles the enemy struggled to confront.
Cutting down men with something in his
Eyes, something great that the evil despise.

As they seemed to be overtaken, one
Final rally and one final push brought
Quite contradictory results to this Captain and
His faithful, courageous men; Victory!

Among the blood and injury walked
The true victors of that day,
With not only winning this battle,
But successful in fighting the War away!

As celebration ensued, the men mounted
Up their Captain upon a great stump
Who over cheers and praise, gave his
Victory speech among the clump.

"Men, what we have seen portrayed
Today was not my doing. The enemy
Was defeated in the course of your pursuing
Virtue through courage and temptation subduing.

But alas, victory is not always success,
And defeat is not always failure. Let
Us not be proud of this event today,
And not curse, but honor our fallen enemy's corps.

But today men, we shall feast.
Let us rejoice in this jubilee, and
Praise the Trinity for the gifts of
Brotherhood, Virtue, ad Plentity!"

"Hurrah!" responded his men, and
With this speech, a great and long
Celebration ensued. One of
Friendship, joy, and delicious food.

Now today, the older Captain sits,
Musing over these past events
With a smile upon his face
And nostalgia resounding within.

Gripping his pack, he remembers that
Day. Once a boy, now a man of zeal.
Missing the simplicity of yesterday, he lands
On foreign soil for battle, this time, for real.

Covered in blood, his regiment is scared.
As shrapnel and rubble maimed his friends
He stepped up. "Rally forth men, today we win."
As they charged once more, the enemy killed them.

Lying among the fallen brothers
He led, he smiled and closed his eyes.
Resting his head, he muttered his prayers.
And as he died, victory was theirs.

Written on 10-31-15

#war #glory #victory #boyhood #virtue

Liam C Calhoun Jun 2015

William A. Irvin

Old Lincoln's creek comes to mind
when a dog's on my lap, a certain
song's a'whisper, a whimper, with
willows, and so much so, that the
once and promised immortality
evades, ever more than certainly,
more than certainty, when he'd said,
“hurry,” and I’d arrived too late.
And so I’d enter an empty home and
all that waits.

A ship hued red comes to heart
when the memories seem to spill of
only him. My legs were quite
weaker then, one plight, forgotten
and another one, my flailing hand,
with an only respite, offered rail,
and more frail, “hurry ******!” –
He'd said, “HURRY!” and I’d
encounter again, an empty home
and all that waits.

And so, the house regressed, if only
earlier, so too, the boy, with his,
“once-again,” first steps home;
weakened toe after bloodied toenail,
foot after foot, inch after inch, but a
reminder to the hunters that in time,
they too, can become the prey when
switches sundered touch and
tomorrow's maw’d gape, “forget;”
That was when, “hurry,” could be
assumed, would be assumed and at
ends, we’d never meet.

And so I entered the empty home
and all that waits.

#love #life #pain #father #thoughts #sail #superior #frail #boyhood #irvin

Joseph Dazzio Apr 2015

Boyhood

Do you remember when we were boys?
When mischief was our main profession?
With mud about our corduroys
Walking from the field in our football procession?

We chased and tried to catch the girls
Whom we presumed thought us cool.
We occupied our time in class with jokes
Or smoking cigarette butts behind the school.

Time the tax-collector troubled us not
For all the years of these days,
Time was when we ate and how our race
Told our speed, which meant a lot.

Work was gathering stones to build our forts,
Scavenging sticks to build a fire of sorts,
Setting a trap for some unlucky beast,
Or waking to see the glorious sun rising in the east.

I remember when, God forgive our souls,
We skipped Mass (more than once, I might add)
To eat teachers' kolaches and doughnut holes,
But more for the adventures we had.

When we ran in the forest, we were Injuns.
When we sailed on the lake, we were Pirates,
But now we're just drab grown-ups,
Our characters weak as sand; like Pilate's.

What changed in us?
What made this so?
Temptation leads to sin, plus
Sin corrupts the soul.

The good ole days.

#memories #boy #boys #innocence #childhood #reminiscence #boyhood

Aiséirí Bramble Sep 2014

The Rejection of Manhood

He woke, as before, a boy.
She told him he would be a man,
As his father was out cutting turf,
And his mother told him the story,
He had heard before by the fire.
No pages to this book, not a leaf.

When he was younger, this boy
Had once cut, alone, the turf.
But upon placing it in the fire,
He decided instead to burn the mother of the leaf,
And that he did not want to be a man.
He couldn’t tell himself her story.

He saw his mother, an aspen leaf
Trembling by the fire,
As what was deemed a man
Turned her blackened eyes into a story.
He had always resembled a boy
Even to his own son, who pressed his tear-stained face into the turf.

His father tried to prove the boy a man
But found instead that he was hardly even boy.
So drink hid him from the story
While the not-boy cried by the fire
Knowing that he could not touch his fathers turf.
It was not like a man to shake as if a leaf.

The not-boy decided again not to be a man,
And lying in the earth found a fire
Inside that showed him a story
He had told himself as a boy
In which those who were only leaves
Could not have their own turf.

He was not the only boy
Who did not understand “man”
None did, and instead told a story
About how only the strongest leaf
Would cut the turf
And that only women would tend the fire.

Boys do not cut turf.
Leaves fall and we still tell stories
Of how fire somehow makes a man.

#father #up #growing #men #violence #sestina #boyhood #turf

Loren W Ebeling Esq Aug 2014

12:06

Man that I am
Man that I was
Both are men
That I seek to forget

But here I am
The man I've become
The product of my decisions
Boyhood
No longer

But I take heart
For I am young
And mistakes
May be attributed
To youth

Yes I will learn
To be the man I'm becoming
And to make him a man
Worth being

It's funny how the deepest introspection seems to come at times when you should be asleep

#man #hope #up #growing #youth #potential #boyhood