Explore Poems: Children Subjects

Obsolete is absolutely useless
although in the past
he was reasonably handy
time—it kept on ticking and…

Brown.
 Nutmeg brown.
  Sharp, redolent nutmeg brown. Nutmeg for gingerbread,
allspice for cider:
Grandma…

Crunch! We walk through fresh new snow
that sparkles on the frozen ground.
It’s peaceful here among the…

oversized
passportsthat let us
travelanywhere
anytimeand keep on
dreaming

I pass between lions
guarding what's inside:
bound gems to open,
endless words that sparkle.
I read till…

Arctic tundra,
Arctic tundra,
How does your garden grow?
With lupine seeds
And fireweeds
And bearberries …

Big and bold now, write your name.
Draw an arrow, then take aim
at a puffy heart: "Kim loves Kyle."
Doodling…

"Snug as a bug in a hug,"
says Gran, like she always does,
and laughs down my neck
with her smoky-mint …

If, even now, I am excited about it: every cow & horse,
every canoe on the surface of Pyramid Lake—…

Gazing at the sky, all cloud-strewn
A child wonders, Where’s my moon?

Child cries a river like a monsoon…

I remember first hearing rumors
of the atom. We are all made up
of crumbs, Q told me
when we were kids.…

Don’t. The past is overcrowded with the future 
closer than you think. You blink, that’s one 
eon; a yawn…

I don’t like similes.Every time I try to think of onemy brain feels like a vast, empty desert;my eyes…

Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry,
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk,
Or what not,
Which…

Set with raindrops, displayed
between the king’s mantle and the litchi tree,
was the cobweb I almost walked…

make
this world
a whole lot
brighter

when
I
grow up
I'll
be
a writer.
I'll
write about
some things
I know—

                    how to bunt
                    how to throw . . .

           ...

The mountain and the squirrel  
Had a quarrel;  
And the former called the latter ‘Little Prig.’
Bun replied,  
‘You are doubtless very big;         
But all sorts of things and weather  
Must be taken in together,  
To make up a year  
And a sphere.  
And I think it no disgrace  
To...

I always like summer
best
you can eat fresh corn
from daddy's garden
and okra...

Go to sleep my daughter
go to sleep my son
once this world was water
without anyone

For someone to read a poem
again, and again, and then,

having lifted it from page
to brain—the easy part—

cradle it on the longer trek
from brain all the way to heart.