Modern poetry about childhood

Modern Poems about Childhood 1

When we were young,

we often held hands.

Playing in the hall and walking down the hall,

I don’t know what sadness is.

When we were little,

we often held hands.

You picked flowers and I picked willows.

We walked all over the front and back of the mountain.

When we were little,

we often held hands.

Sing and laugh together in the morning glow,

Chase and play together in the dusk clouds.

I always wanted to pick off the moon from the treetops,

I always wanted to treasure the stars in the sky,

When I was a child, my thoughts were so weird and strange.

So innocent and naughty,

So innocent and naughty,

Has its own little secret,

Also has its own heart to be happy .

When we were little,

we often held hands.

Today is no longer a child,

We are about to embark on the road to youth.

As time goes by, people grow up,

Old partners go their separate ways

Disappear in the vast sea of ??people.

We are about to say goodbye to yesterday,

Say goodbye to childhood,

Roll up our sleeves and run towards the shore of youth.

At the end of the road is water,

Above the water is a boat,

The boat and the road are closely connected,

We want Go on a long voyage,

to find that silver dream.

Modern Poetry about Childhood 2

Childhood is a faded photo

When I occasionally remember it

I can still stop

Looking back at the distant innocence and care

The village in spring is beautiful

Full of light fragrance of flowers

The mother hen leads the children

A happy walk

But often worried about the naughty cat

The doll that bullies it

The watermelon in the field

I grew up in my greedy saliva

I once broke down other people’s fences in order to steal peaches

I often bare my buttocks

Covered in yellow mud

Chasing the jumping frog

A wheat field full of sunflowers

This is our battlefield

Out of curiosity

I licked the tail of a bee...

Standing quietly on the river embankment and looking out

The fiery sunset

The wisps of smoke calling

Let’s go home

The fiery red stove

The primitive "Salad"

The unfinished math questions

Under the oil lamp

The once young mother...

Keep your heart Here I leave alone

It has been immersed in

my childhood

- my most beautiful poems and paintings