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Your Poetry Page


Make it Adventurous or a thriller poem, humorous or fabulous, thought provoking or concerned, a travel or animal related, school themes, maths or grammar fun – Be original, Be imaginative, Be realistic or just fantasy. Calling all budding poets and blossoming authors and writers to squeal and squabble the hidden imagination in your brainy heads. Live the fantasy and don’t just let your imagination run dry! It’s time to make a great Poem or weave a story.

KidsFreesouls is here to help you shrug off the blues. Just hook to our ideas and ‘Get-set-right’ to trail to hold the reigns of Rudolf’s sleigh this Christmas time OR ANY TIME, ANY WHERE. Write your right way out & Enjoy! It’s Only Words…..

Just Poetry Contributions to encourage all poetry loving writers who like to have their poetry featured here on Kidsfreesouls. I shall paste it as the way you send it – Choice is yours to write and submit. Only, please be an original writer. Kids can write and adults too.


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A Child in Me
-By Barkha Parikh

A child in me still says me to hop when i am happy..
A child in me still wants me to sleep in mom’s lappy..

A child in me still wants to blow and play with bubbles..
A child in me still wants to be care-free about troubles..

A child in me still, in rain, wants to make paper boats..
A child in me still wants to paint till my clothes bloat

A child in me still wants to swing high and low to the extreme..
A child in me still wants to see the sun set in its glorious gleam..

A child in me still wants to play with clay and shapes..
A child in me still wants to tease my dear ones and escape..

A child in me still wants to hold mom’s hand when I am scared..
A child in me still wants her to cuddle me up,when my heart is pared

A child in me still wants my dad to carry me when I am tired..
A child in me still wants my mom to pamper me when my tears are fired..

A child in me still wants to just be worried about just pencils and pens…
A child in me still wants to be fed with mom’s hands..

A child in me is still alive.. A child in me still resides…
I wish I had grown old.. Leaving Growing up Besides…!!

God’s Mystery

By Matthew De Jose
7 years, United Kingdom

On earth it is lovely,
but I wonder about heaven
Earth has lovely things,
but heaven I’m not so sure
Earth has electricity ,
but heaven I don’t know
Earth has greatness,
but heaven may be better.


By Erin Fischer

When the flowers bloom
And the grass is wet
You know its spring.
When the sun shines
And your skin simmers
You know its summer.
When your lies are outrun
And exhaustion is overreaching
You know its depression.
When you cry
And feel your spirit break
You know its death.
When you dance for joy
And your thoughts are consumed
You know
it’s Love.

My slippers
By Rhea Parekh,(10 years), India


If I Was A President For A Day
by Aditya Santhosh

If I was a President for a day
I will have it on my birthday

If I was a President for a day
I would do the best of what all people say
I will make the greatest company
In our outstanding country

If I was a President for a day
I will make the country progress the right way
I will teach the people of our country
The value of honesty and money

If I really want to become a President for a day
I should work hard and work smart
And we will reach our goal like a dart

What a Joy is Flight
Chase Christmas (12)

The birds, what a joy they have found
To fly in the sky as we walk on the ground
Oh so high on the breeze
Flying over the seas
Oh what a joy they have found
And we watch on the ground
As they soar through the air
With narry a care
What a joy they have found
As we think on the ground
Of a way to fly
As a bird oh so high
Oh, what a joy we have found
And we leave from the ground
Oh so high on the breeze
Flying over the trees
What a joy we have found
Looking down on the ground
As we soar through the air
With nary a care
What a Joy!

By Bhavya Tibrewala ( Age 6 years )
Hyderabad. India

I have a cute pet pug,

Who loves to pee on rug.

He loves to bite and chew ,

Socks and shoes and all things new,

His name is Mr Champ,,

His soft black muzzle is damp,

He has a fine ,smooth coat,

A curly tail the colour of oat ,

He is a cheerful happy fellow,

Who chases me high and low.

He patiently waits outside my door,

Says, “I want to play some more.”

He likes to use the Vodaphone,

To chat with me when I’m not home,

I hope he helps me one fine day,

To lick my stamps and find my way.

by Aditya Mathur
Amity International School, Haryana

Books are a medium of communication
They are made for the people and their nation
Some books have information of Edison’s light
Edison’s effort made the world bright at night.

Some books write about the planes of Wright Brothers
You will find about music and fun in others
Books are of many types
Some are on animals and their lives
If Mahatma Gandhi didn’t write about his life
How would you know about his freedom fight?

Books are trains and Libraries their station
Their passengers are all types of information!
Books are a medium of communication!

by Caitlinleigh Spiers (11)
Scotland, UK

Why do you bully me every single day,
make a full of me in every way.
Shout at me because I have ginger hair,
or laugh at me because of the clothes I wear.

I’m no different from anybody in this school,
just because you think I’m uncool,
You wouldn’t like it if I bullied you one day,
hurt your feelings in every way.

I’m scared to set foot out my door,
because your a bully I can’t ignore.
I want to tell someone but I’m scared of what you’ll say,
If you will hit me and make me pay.

Do you bully me because you have nothing to do?
This is the question I want to ask you.
You look so happy while I am sad,
Do you not even feel in the slightest bit bad.

Ok I can’t take this any longer,
I have to tell someone I have to be stronger.
I can’t let you bully me any more,
so sometime today the police will be at your door.

Don’t let people bully you,
and tell you what to do.
Tell someone and they will deal with it,
and you will not get bullied or hit.

(from Nick Prutskikh, 10 y.o., Boca Raton, FL, USA)

School bells ringing
Kids streamin’
Winter holidays

Mothers shopping
Fathers mopping
Kids waiting
For Santa Claus

Christmas trees shining
Children sitting,
Searching for Ole’
Saint Nick

by Neelam Shah age 15
UK( England)

When the sun settles down,
cowboys come galloping into to town.
When the old folks come riding
the youngens come gliding.
When gold miners come with mountains of gold
all the folks would be filthy rich and say ‘ sold’.

When children play with their balloons,
the folks come rushing into the saloon.
When the sheriff strides into the west,
everyone in town is put to the test.
When the horses rest their heels
All the folks have a big meal.

When the high wind dusts moves in,
two cowboys battle for their sins.
When one cowboy yells ‘reach for the sky’
the other just gives a bad sigh.
When both are holding guns,
one says to the other this ain’t no fun.
When both give up the fight,
they realise they can find the light.

by Neelam Shah age 15
UK( England)

What makes the sea
glisten with shine.
What makes the river
cuddle the waves
What makes the
ocean breeze.
What makes the
rain seem so delicate.
What makes the fish
swim in the deep blue.

What makes the
floods so monstrous.
What makes the monsoon
pour its grief on land.
What makes the
ponds so crowded,
with lily pads and frogs.
What makes the puddles
so reflective.
What makes the waterfall
so beautiful.

What makes the shower
drizzle with purity.
what makes the
tap water so fresh.
What makes the bottled
water so confined.
What makes the dirty polluted
water so deadly.
What makes the tear drops
in our eyes so salty.
What makes the swimming pool
so warm and soothing.

The Wooden Battlefield
Hannah Morris,age 10

Just beneath the moon,
Across the red sea shore,
Sits the Wooden Battlefield,
Upon the dusty Moor.

Silent and still they sit,
The dark and rusty trees,
Singing their miserable songs,
Swaying back and fourth as they please.

Walking upon the battlefield,
No thought of pain in your mind,
Not a sound for miles,
Not a bird in sight you find.

Sad and motionless soldiers,
Shields scattered on the floor,
Thinking of the battlefield,
The pain grows more and more.

Holly smith 

I am a snowflake coming from a cloud.
I’m awaiting to fall onto the ground.
I see kids playing on my friends,
Frightened I going to be one of them.
Hoping I don’t melt,
For a least a day.
Or at least not till,
Winter goes away.
I hear the cool wind blowing,
Pushing me every which way.
I feel the sun’s heat shining on me,
Please don’t let me melt today.

A Miserable shop
Rekha,C,4th std,

I used to live down the lane
with great fame and name
but now I have nothing to do other than
watch children playing games

I was painted in bright pink
and had everything starting from ink.
every customer had my link
but now I am nothing but a small blink.

My owner spent a lot of time in me
and made a lot of money in me
but now I am a great ruin to see

I wanted to share this with you
because I  feel so blue
thank-you for listening to me
haso hasho hasho!!!

( The last line seems to be in gujarati language. Haso means : Laugh!)

Why God Made Little Girls
-Nidhi Nair

God made the world with its towering trees,
Magestic mountains and restless seas.
Then he paused and said,
It needs one more thing,
Someone to laugh, dance and sing,
To walk in the woods, gather flower
To commune with nature in the quiet hours.
So, god made little girls
And when his work was over,
He was proud for the work he did
And, saw the world through the little eyes.

Freedom is Precious
By Ayushi Vora, 5th std., Udgam School

Under the rule of Britishers, we struggled for our freedom
Stand fast and suffer long, Nation great and strong
Midnight bell chimes, truth and honor wins,
Free to breathe the native air, proudly we stand with kins
Father let my country awake, freedom weeps, justice sleeps,
Corruption reigns, give me strength,
Banish, hate and spread love, faith and peace

Love for our Country
-By Shaimi Jhaveri 

Under the rule of Britishers,
We lived a decade before
Faced hardships and struggled,
Sufferings galore.
We fought for freedom
With all might and power
We stood high and suffered long
Nation great and strong
We salute the martyrs
And pay our tribute
They helped to free India
We bow our heads and show respect,
We hoist the flag, Celebrate the freedom pact.

-By Aashini Sheth

Today we rejoice, before we sacrificed,
Go back into the leaves of history
During the time of slavery.
Captured by the reigns of the Britishers
Rule of struggle and hardship
Pay tribute to our freedom fighters
Gandhiji and nehruji help us to be free

Poem to my kid Ivan Clyde on his 2nd Birthday

Stacey & Ivan

A tiny hush of moment…a living daffodil
every herald of laughter…every moment
when your’e here…
the world gives what it can offer…
I take it with you without fear.

For I will be here for you…till the last day of each strife
you will see the world to its fullest undying embers of my life.

You will learn how to care, nurture not destroy
uncertain maybe of tomorrow, but you will give the world with joy…
There I stand, I wait and take pride…in my arms you rest forever my darling Ivan clyde.

Denisse Lopez

There once was an ape at the zoo
who looked out the bars and saw YOU
do you think is fair
to give apes a scare
i think its a mean thing to do!

Amelia Flora Darell
Age: 11

I laze amongst the boughs of trees, gazing over a wall
An orchard ,lies sleepily in the land that excludes me
Sweet plums nestle among the trees, their succulent flesh
All the more so inviting, when to bite its soft pulp, is forbidden
A plump, purple, plum ,tangent tissue beneath its supple skin
My tongue longs for its exquisite tang ,to savor it
My hearts beat quickens, as I pluck plums
Ripping it from its tender roots the tree quivers
Juice oozes over my hands ,sticky as blood
Agile skin yields helplessly to my quick bite
So good , so sweet, so cold; plums
trees, gazing over a wall.

Light of New Life
I’m fourteen and this is my poem Marguerite Belisle of California 8th grade

If I come to you, crying, pleading- will do no good.
When I put the gun to your head in plea,
You will feel none but pain.
For you have already pulled the trigger amongst your self.
Now you stand dying from the inside out because all you did,
Was just once enough and too many to addict, too much to kill.

Too much to kill your heart and soul,
Too much to kill what really matters.
Too much to murder what really lies ahead.
Too much, too much.

Now all that’s left for you is death,
Death of the one we once loved,
But Now you are gone,
You may still be standing ill from your mistake,
To us you are a threat to be standing,
Shameful to be what you have taken into your self,
It feels so long since you have had your health, your life, your soul,
So long it has diminished.

Rebuild what has been destroyed,
By first digging it up in agony, and internal calling
Dig deeper until the light below flows to your head,
Flaring with new found life,
Soon you will return to us,
With your past behind you to always be looked upon,
To be regretted and shamed,
Ahead of you, your future breathes new life
Around you we will stand strong, glad of your return,
But now, Grab a shovel and start digging
Your spade will hit the light of life once again,
Even when your buried too deeply in your calling death…
We want you back.


I began my quest to perfect happiness
Somewhere in the midst of the forests.
Amongst the green cover, amid the shady trees,
Away from the busy life.
In complete isolation and tranquility.
I did discover the beauty of nature.
Experienced the privilege of segregation,
But felt the lack of composure.
So I took the path of spirituality,
To explore my inner self;
To find the peace of mind.
Yet the bliss was incomplete.
I recollected my memories,
That Dig up the happiest moments of my life.
All exhibited the image of my mother,
The benefactor of my life.
I ran to her and Fell into her lap.
That day I realized my perfect happiness
I discovered my ultimate

By Nicole Braganza, 17 years

Mum does Bharatnatyam
Sister does Ballet
Brother goes out now and then,
To dance the cabaret
Aunt Elma does belly dancing
Uncle Fred, the waltz
Even little poochie
Does splits and somersaults
Now if you ask me, I would say
My family’s off the brink
My grandma was a “tap dancer”
Till she fell in the sink!

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