"garten" poems
My childhood was alluring days,
I miss those days in many ways.
I was so adorable on those days
And delightful like sun rays,
When I was a child,
My heart was painted with full of colours
And filled with beautiful imagination.
The whole world was like a pearl to me.
It was the most happiest days of past.
But I miss those days in many ways.
I played with my childhood friends and brothers.
I played with different types of toys and flowers.
They are like my lovers.
My life filled with happiness and joy.
Those days was heaven for me.
First day my mother left her hand,
She went away with a crying face
It broke my heart in many ways.
It was the first step to my kinder garten.
It was a new atmosphere for me.
I cried and played with ***** mud
And mud caked to my new shoes.
I miss all the fun and beauty of my eyes.
In my childhood i wished for many things.
Now I wish ,I want my funniest childhood days.
I realise they were the big things to me.
All are going through many stages in life.
The day I found my little tricycle in the backyard.
My mind run backward fastly.
Like a super car and all my memories shuffled,
Until I reach the memories of evergreen childhood.
Childhood is the best or world to all.
Everyone want to be a child atleast one day.
I want back my lamp,
To remove the darkness of world.
Music is inside in everyone's heart,
But It won't show out in some case.
Like childhood memories are inside us,
But still it keep fade in our heart.
Never stop playing, screeming, laughing,
It will carry your childhood with you.
We never and ever become older,
We all have an endless breathing and stages.
It can't take back and go back.
Look the world with child eye.
It seems more beautiful than anything.
Reminiscence of childhood were the dreams
That stayed with you after you woke.
Childhood is being carefully held like a glass.
My anguish wishes to be a youngster,
I want my souvenir back and
Blow it Up into a bubble and live inside it forever. ?
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
After the painting by Fritz Von Uhde (1848 – 1911)
Sophie is twelve
Hanna thirteen
dear pinafored girls both
home from school
this summer afternoon
they sit knee to knee
but far enough away
from mothers’ chatter
at tea on the terrace.
The girls have gossip of their own
to share and talk is ten
to the dozen (and more)
whilst Hanna turns the pages
of a story book (with pictures):
a woodcutter’s daughter
a handsome young squire
ensnared with love
by a magiced white owl
there’s a castle by a lake
an endless forest dark
a mountainous domain
so far away so long ago.
Poised in the doorway
of their teenaged years
our girls imagine
the courteous attentions
of uniformed cadets
who one day soon
may very well sit
at the garden table
in the dappled shade
and silently gaze with longing
on their oh so delicate charms.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
Take me back to Tennessee in the Garten of Kinder
The border of the south where there's barely a winter
And when there was, the snow was stolen
From the boy next door who wanted some snowmen
Take me back to the eggs on the floor where she slipped
But she was okay after Mommy's forehead kiss
Take me back to the little things that made it all okay
Take me back to that fight we had every other day
Because we loved too much to keep up a fight
So we took some breaks for one day or a night
Take me back to the "friends forever"
Forever eternalized:
Misremembered
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:17 AM UTC
Two Lost and Found butterflies.
Tears rolling down.
The most rewarding scenery is the landscape of the lovers innermost feelings and emotions for each other and both twin butterflies.
Surely a twin's true love that never failed, even bottled in a dark dungeon- it still holds evidence of greatest reigns plotted since eges past.
Like a diamond polished, unworned by its true queen.
Its still a diamond grown in greatest friction and much heat.
A fire burning for the longest time.
Yes it may now be in the finger of the greedy liar divider murderer
on speed.
The evil trashing defamatrex
Is still a great Impostor
****** a true queen bee's,
first landscape pradise.
Forgive my metaphorical poor grade here.
I am still no poetess
Just a tragic true life kinder Garten observer of sorts.
A possible self portrait of loss and undying grief
Drowning in true events that inexplicably give me life worth living.
Its essence,the magic of true love, lost and found, found and lost,
And against all odds,retained wiithin its infinite truth
poweted only by eternal love and gratitud.
I remain in love, my beloved's
pure loves ashes,
that heals me to my core
And I'm no longer lost nor alone.
My lonely thorny crooked path,
i have left behind.
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By: Karijinbba
Mr and Mrs Andrews the oainting.
Rddbba All Rights Reserved.
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 11:20 AM UTC