C is for Childhood

3 April 2019

In today’s blog, we have 18 short poems we would like to share with you. Each poem will be in the first person of a child or adult looking back on their childhood, or experiencing life as a child in a certain era, ranging from the 15th century to today!

Enjoy reading them, you may even feel some nostalgia of your own!

painting of a child reading a book


It was the best

It was the worst

Empire records and VHS

Let’s watch Aladdin this weekend?

OMG Pop tarts again for breakfast again!

Wow we love sugar, isn’t it sweet?

Hey Abby, you’re totally my best friend foreverrr

Tamagotchis and Furby’s

Both cute, if you’re deserving

Girl talk before bedtime

Don’t you remember?

Back home in Dad’s car

The Ford Taurus, where we did the macarena?

That dial up ring tone was the next thing I heard

When am I gonna get a Nokia phone like everyone else?

10p for a text, will I learn to save?

Reading goosebumps in bed with a torch was sooo brave

It was the best

It was the worst

I still gotta finish making that mixtape before it’s too late

black and white image of a mother and child


A chain of whispers we pass

My hands, clasped

A watchful glance, our faces painted merry

Soon, my fingers dance, strings that sing

Amusement I bring

Here vanity and content, equal

All day I follow, my true belonging brings sorrow

I’ve been told to watch my tongue

A jest, then rest

I give more, in return for less

To speak when spoken to

I linger unbeknownst to when I am due

line of people on their phones


A ring to match

Scraps, always scraps

Skin meets bone

To always talk of a wishful loan

Be made a mockery of for my speech

A pocket to beg from

But he asks to be put to rest

I can tell by the sorrow that takes his face

Outside there’s panic

A sickness passed through familiars

Pottage, grain

Drained and lame, posies strained

Sore skin meets brittle bones

Ashes, more ashes, to fall to the ground

We said goodbye to my siblings at the weekend

image of children looking through a wooden door


“You look golden!” Momma cried, as I twirled around in her rectangle shaped gown

“Can I try on your red?” I sighed

After supper, was the only reply

Daddy comes home and I weep, “I missed you, I missed you” then one kiss on the cheek

“Oh sweetheart,” he says “don’t you look mellow”

He looks to James, he’s meek. “Hello young fellow!” Daddy shrieks

James turns to me, his red fingertips ringed with black like soot.

“It’s my turn to listen to the show”, as he took the headphones from me, irritable, he looks.

All sat together, it’s story time

Momma and Daddy holding hands

“You can try on the red now, Betty Ann”

Delighted I sat in front of the glass

Life’s mighty fine in this land



Rich nor poor

Still gifts they bore

Caressed and cherished daily

To work on the tracks

Was the most important act

A ‘man’ must always remain intact

Times are quickly changing

child receiving a gift


A certain name haunts the streets

Carried by mouths, profanities they speak

Told to keep our distance

A dark dread lurks yonder the hills

Harvest awaits, great moans heard that the cattle won’t wake

A finger pointed towards the dark

A small frame, a kindred heart

A guide she was down the path

Misfortune struck thrice

Cattle lie like ice

Pa whispers a hex, she says, he says

The kindred heart, she lost her soul

Saw no more of her hollow frame

The cunning lost, her visitors dropped

Days grow old, just like stories once told

Sent away, but we shall stay

The name once carried, now true

Dragged and bound

Eyes taut and round

She lived not another day

painting of a mother and child


Call it what you like…..

Although it now seems

like a lifetime ago

The fondness I feel

And the memories that grow

Born then and not now

still plenty (yet) to do

There were Tupperware parties

and trips to the zoo

Decimalisation, had only kicked off

There was Glam Rock

Weird clothing

Like sandals with socks!

Ra-ra skirts, Jubilee

Parties in streets

Pyramid sales

and rare sweet treats

Starting at school

Then walking alone

Being all fancy

Like having a house phone

Wait…There’s more!

cartoon of two children reading in an armchair


Then boom, off to big school

Well, I went away

Missing my family

and having to stay

Bright colours of clothes

Music bizarre

on Top Of The Pops

watching boys from a-far

Feeling so grown-up

yet only a child

Homework and dating

Like being re-styled

So many fond memories

now shared more and more

both then but now

It feels like folklore!

Victorian image of a child


Thick as thieves they called us

They didn’t like it, the well off

You could tell from their eyes

The way they moved to the side

When I was smaller, unaware

Fair and dark had met at night

Whisper tips and exchange rights

I was taught in order to write

Ran from rich to be in poor

Friends here, rivals no more

Little mulattoes lived here, but sure

I watch and listen, too junior to join

To prove our pride

At times we hide

To start but still to grow

childhood toys


Through thick and thin was the words we’d all sing

In tune to the melodic sound coming from the west wing

Smoke lingered in the air, in fact in every room

Was there ever a time where that wasn’t a thing?

Numbers drawn on the floor

and the sound of a 1,2,3!

I was in the sky as the thick rope swung under me

Coming and going, to’ing and fro’ing

We’d smile happily and say “CHEESE!”

A piece of string but no key, “Hey, let me in please!”

Life was sweet, much like what we love to eat

All so dusty and familiar

Just like a tick-tock clock

And much like the queue formed on Wednesday afternoons

One by one a comb would run

Through thin and thick hair

One would say that’s quite a routine

Just like the waves from the sea, washes over my feet

My knitted swimsuit is pretty neat!

Through thick and thin was the words we’d all sing

ooh, I can’t wait to play run outs next week!

children looking through a window at the moon


Grown into a digital age

We prance around singing our favourite sounds

Watching moving pictures

Embarrassed to show

“You better not be watching anything weird you know”

I wish I looked like her

She wishes she was me

Moana and Elsa

To be a princess was the dream

I’m not scared of you however much it seems



Remember a time when you felt alive?

Not just physical existence, but you could really feel your soul within?

That time is now, and here we feel free

Free as in it’s time to change things

Free as in we need to protest on the street

Gone are the times of tradition

Today is our liberation

To be free is to be equal and to be equal is to be free

Give peace a chance, follow the waves in your hair

Wear the skirt above your knees

Run and jump, let’s be seen.

Fly high like a kite, experience things you’ve never seen

The free times are fun and fun times makes you free

These new shapes and colours change me

To be free is to be equal and to be equal is to be free



Dancing in the living room

Reach for the stars

You can’t touch the floor

Down there are sharks!

Next thing you’re quiet

All eyes on you

“You must put your hand up if you want to go to the loo”

Practicing handwriting

Twiddling our thumbs

Running through the wood chipped floor

Plimsolls to wear if you want fun

Learning to share

Make sure you always brush your hair

Can I have two bedtime stories?

If you stop being glum

Barbie’s and Ken dolls

For lunch, cheesy bread rolls

I can’t wait till I’m an adult!

Well, don’t you now sound dumb?

old photographs


Spin the dial

One, two, three

Four, five, six, seven..?

I’ve lost count

I think I reached eleven?

Bell bottoms, paisley shirt

Quickly faded from glory

The motto was, always save, save, save

But remember to pick a side

Idealist or degenerate?

I don’t know sir

I suppose whatever is relevant…

Pink Floyd and a small TV

That’s all we need apparently

Less is more

More can get you less

Life is hard

We live life just to drive fast cars

Hey, you got a plan?

“You’re going to be an astronaut someday”

Well, I know I’m not

You dig man?

Yes and No

What’s right, what’s wrong

Some voices are unheard

Be there or be square

Spin the dial

One, two, three

Life is all right

Life is pretty bad

barbie dolls shoes


Sirens echo through the night

As I lay in my bed shivering with fright

Echoes and bellows from up above

I clutch my ears and shout for help

But no-one answers

No-one comes

It seems like forever, it seems so long

I weep and I weep, still no-one has come

My ears overwhelmed with a ringing sensation

It seems as if it’s the final destination

It is dark, it is drab

Black dots paint the sky

My eyes fully awake

Can reality be a dreaming state?

I’m waiting and waiting

It seems like forever, it seems so long

Because no-one has answered

No-one has come

dancing class


Sunday. A day of rest pa always said

Signed so by the cross formed on a babes head

Dressed in my best, a frown formed on my head,  “you look just like your pa” ma sighs, as we reached the crest.

Constipation follows congregation

We wait

A trickle runs down my leg

Evening sets, pa can’t rest, excited was a word he says

“The vote” he screams, over a feast of grain and bread, “I now get the chance”

It was then time for bed

There are fees to be paid pa says

Eton shall remain our main stead

Soon I trudge the path I always take. Through the black, sticky mass, where the rats run, irate

Numbers, letters, a frequent task, I sit there, shroud, surrounded by larks. “Come and join us!” the older boys ask.

Time to play in the muddied grass

“A game of rugby bill?”

I don’t pass

It ended with a sore head and arse.

painting of children on a bike


One foot in front of the other

Pulling my hat down over my head

“Hold onto your bag now”

A voice behind me said

It’s busy, it’s bustling

Unfamiliar sounds don the room

Lined up in front of a large engine

A sharp whistle pierces through my ears

Why do we have to be here again?

Unsure what to think

Unsure what to feel

A kiss on the head

My arms held tight

“It won’t be long”

“I promise my sweet son”

Papers thrust in hand

I can’t read big words

Tears filled my eyes

A kind man spots me

His eyes very stern

“Hop on young man”

“You’ll be just fine”

Perched by the window

A sweet smile

It felt like miles

Several whistles later

The sweet smile changed

I stared

And in return

A sincere glare

And in seconds

She was gone

Dark, pitch black

A mumbled sound

Never to remember

Until it’s the round

little red riding hood painting


A steady beat


Not weak

A quick little peek

We wait

Long weeks

It’s time





It’s bright

Held ever so tight

Welcome to the world

Apple of my eye

Written by Rhianna Selkridge-Carty

Well, you’ve reached the end. If you’ve gotten this far, we’re certain you’re curious enough to read about the various and unfortunate ways we can all reach ‘the end’, A-Z style…

© 2024 Family Wise | Privacy Policy | Website created by: stellasoft