Poems on Childhood

I needed a topic this time: it's childhood. The first poem is something along the lines of which I'd like to write serious poetry, although I think I'd do better if I threw in variation like in my poem about hell. However, here I tried to experiement with "cliche" serious poetry... it won't last, trust me. My next serious poem will be in that lighter tone my poem about hell was in. That's the natural Anonick.

So, just go along, read this mediocre poem, the (more "Anonicky") quatrain and limericks that follow. :-)

The River

As the water flows with leasure
It remembers the earnest beginning
With great dreams of the future
And little fish in it's water.

The rocks it played with
Have dissolved in the flow
Gone are the fish it toyed with
It's might is all a hollow.

Although it was insignificant then
And now it is stellar
It's power was small but forceful
Today it is mellow.

It must miss the days of rapid flow
Of excitement and adventure
Of the gushing through a denture
Or the fall from high to low.

With a seemingly wise pace
It merges with the sea
Is this the way it chose
To lose it's identity?

A Quatrain on childhood

You wish to control the world?
Act as you wish to do.
Let me manage my treehouse
I can do better than you.

Limericks

There was a little child of Rotterdam
Who loved eating bread and ham
But when he ate
He spoke with spate
The result was difficult to anticipate!

A sweet little girl of Netherland
Tried making a house of sand
But threw in too much
Of the water's touch
Now the house is just flat land!