Childcare poems: Poems for Daycare Providers
Daycare Poems
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beautiful poems about children, short poems.
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Poems about children are often asked to be taught by children themselves in kindergarten and school. Yes, and adults love to re-read touching works about the tricks and growing up of kids. How often do we look for poems to wish our son or daughter a happy birthday, or just want to remember our childhood. After all, perhaps at no other time are we so defenseless, open and close to God. This tender period is lovingly described by artists, writers and poets around the world. Pravmir has collected for you a selection of the best poems about children. Works of classics and beginning poets. We hope that our selection will take you to the magical world of childhood, full of adventure and discovery. Short poems about children are easy to learn by heart, and the most beautiful poems remain in our memory for a long time. It is usually easy for a child to learn exactly the poem that he liked. Growing up is so short:
And now we have an adult! Let beautiful poetry adorn the memories of how the baby discovered for himself the wonderful world given by God, in which there is so much unknown and beautiful.
Agniya Barto
I’m lying, I’m sick
I’m lying, I’m sick,
I pity myself.
I sigh on my back,
I lie down on my side again…
My friends don’t come to me
To visit the poor fellow.
I’m lying down, sick,
I feel sorry for myself.
Where are my comrades?
How do you spend your summer?
Fights are being fought without me
Somewhere in football…
I’m lying down, sick,
I feel sorry for myself.
I’m waiting until the end
The doors will open
And six boys will burst in,
Five at least.
But there is silence in the apartment…
I rub my eyes half asleep,
Suddenly I see (there they are!)
— Five girls enter.
Five girls sat in a row
By my bed.
— Well, that’s enough! — they say.
– I got sick, and that’s enough.
Do you know the songs or not?
You will be the leader!
– I nod at them in response:
– Well, let’s sing, perhaps.
Tanya (thin voice,
Tail on the back of the head)
Speaks:
— And this is juice for you in a bottle.
Miracles! I’m waiting for the boys,
And the girls came.
I’m not on good terms with them,
I fought once.
I’m lying, sick,
I feel sorry for myself,
How I’ll sing with the girls,
I’m having fun right away.
1938
I. Bunin
Childhood
The hotter the day, the sweeter it is in the forest
Breathe the dry resinous aroma,
And I had fun in the morning
Wander around these sunny chambers!
Shine everywhere, bright light everywhere,
Sand like silk…
I cling to the gnarled pine tree
And I feel: I am only ten years old,
And the trunk is a giant, heavy, majestic.
The bark is rough, wrinkled, red,
But so warm, so warmed up by the sun!
And it seems that it is not pine that smells,
But the heat and dryness of sunlight.
Mikhail Lermontov
We languish in memories of the dreams of youth,
With secret joy and secret shudder,
Beautiful child, I look at you …
Oh, if only you knew how much I love you!
How dear to me are your young smiles,
And quick eyes, and golden curls,
And a ringing voice!—Isn’t it true, they say,
You look like her?—Alas! the years are flying;
Her suffering changed before the time,
But true dreams preserved that image
In my chest; that gaze full of fire,
Always with me. And you, do you love me?
Are you bored with uninvited caresses?
***
The birth of a sweet child
My belated verse greets.
May blessing be with him
All the angels of heaven and earth!
May he be worthy of his father,
Like his mother, beautiful and loved;
May his spirit be calm
And in truth he is firm, like God’s cherub.
Let him not know before the deadline
Neither the pangs of love, nor the glory of greedy thoughts;
Let him look without reproach
To false brilliance and false noise of the world;
Let him not look for reasons
For someone else’s passions and joys,
And he will come out of secular mire
White in soul and unharmed in heart!
Marina Tsvetaeva
There are quiet children.
To doze off on a shoulder
At tender mum it is sweet to them and in the afternoon.
Their weak hands do not rush to the candle –
They do not play with fire.
There are children – like sparks: a flame is akin to them.
In vain they are taught: “After all, it burns, don’t touch it!”
They are capricious (because they are sparks!)
And boldly grab the fire.
There are strange children: they have impudence and fear.
Slowly cross yourself in autumn,
They approach, do not dare, turn pale in tears
And weeping, they flee from the fire.
Valentin Berestov
I was friends with a giant in my childhood.
We had fun alone.
He wandered through the forests and glades.
I hopped after him.
And he was a real man
With consciousness of his own strength,
And a penknife twirled,
And wore long trousers.
We went together all summer.
Nobody dared to touch me.
And I’m a giant for this
I sang all my father’s songs.
O my noble and proud
Protector, giant and hero!
At that time you finished fourth,
And I moved to the second.
The guys will be equal in height
And they will become friends on an equal footing.
I grew up. I finished ninth,
When you died in the war.
1974
Heroes
Valentin Berestov
There were bumps on the forehead,
Lanterns under the eye.
If we are boys,
Then we are heroes.
Scratches. Splinters.
We are only afraid of iodine!
(Here, without hesitation, tears
The commander himself is shedding.)
Let the head be in green
And the leg in plasters,
But there are still strengths,
To defeat the enemy.
Stubborn, in the morning we are
Again to fight, on patrol!
… From those battles, the scars
are still there.
Other children
Mark Weizmann
Other children eat
like we never dreamed of you.
They, eating everything,
grow into heroes!
They, to the delight of moms and dads,
go to bed so early,
that neither me nor you
can keep up with them.
They don’t forget to put diaries
in their briefcases,
they willingly knock out rugs
.
And if they occasionally lie,
then it is not on purpose.
That’s just where they live,
no one knows for sure!
***
Everyone knows that a man
Passionately awaits the birth of a son,
Only a daughter over the course of days
Loves more and more.
Warm little ball,
Lacy funny little bag,
Let there be little weight in it for now,
Daughter – daddy’s princess.
Let her grow up
Both beautiful and smart.
Read also – Poems about mother
***
The boy was choosing a rose carefully,
So that the others would not be crushed,
The saleswoman looked anxiously:
Help him, not help?
Thin fingers in ink,
Bumping into flower thorns,
Chose the one that opened
Petals this morning.
Scooping out his change from pockets,
To the question – to whom did he buy?
He was embarrassed in a very strange way:
“Mom…”, – he whispered barely audibly.
-Birthday, she is thirty today…
She and I are very close friends.
Only now she is in the hospital,
Soon I will have a brother.
Run away. And we were standing with the saleswoman,
I am over forty, she is over fifty.
Women should have been born,
To raise guys like that.
If I were a girl
Eduard Uspensky
If I were a girl –
I would not waste time!
I would not jump in the street,
I would wash my shirts,
I would wash the floor in the kitchen,
I would sweep the room,
I would wash the cups, spoons,
I would peel the potatoes myself,
I would put all my toys myself
I would put them in their places!
Why am I not a girl?
I would help my mother so much!
Mom would immediately say:
“Well done, son!”
Beautiful poems about children and parents
Marina Tsvetaeva
Mom in the garden
Galya Dyakonova
Mom knelt down
In front of him in the grass.
The sun dances on her hair,
On a blue sailor suit,
On a curly head.
Only there, behind the house, shadows…
Mom wants a carnation
Pin to Baby,
— That’s why she sat down.
Hands are white, dress is white…
Grasses cling to her all the way.
– Fingers only crumple the carnation.
– The boy lowered his bright head
to his chest.
– “Don’t twist, my friend, stand straight!”
Mom is very slow!
How to sneak away
Looking for a little trick.
Mom is crying.
On her knees
A flower fell on her.
The sun indulges the look and leaves,
Gilds with an invisible brush
Each petal.
– Only there, behind the house, shadows …
***
Children are the looks of timid eyes,
Playful legs knock on the parquet,
Children are the sun in cloudy motives,
A whole world of hypotheses of joyful sciences.
Eternal disorder in the gold of the rings0015 Peaceful pictures of birds and sheep,
That in a cozy nursery doze on the wall.
Children are the evening, the evening on the couch,
Through the window, in the fog, sparkles of lanterns,
The measured voice of the fairy tale about Tsar Saltan,
About the mermaids-sisters of the fabulous seas.
***
He softly sniffs at my side,
So trustingly squeezing my finger.
And I mentally praise God –
Now I have my boy.
He is already saying: “Mom!”
And laughs when he sees me.
I will become kind for him,
The most loving mother in the world.
How many restless days there were,
You can’t find a moment for yourself.
But I forgot how I lived,
Without him, without my baby.
How many more bad weather there will be,
I am not afraid in their expectation.
After all, happiness is incomparable to anything –
At night, listen to his breathing.
***
Flipping through the album
With childhood photos,
Remember the past with sadness
About those days when we were together.
How will you want
At this time to return again
To sing a song for them,
Touch the cheeks with tender lips.
And while children’s laughter is in the house,
There is nowhere to go from toys,
You are the happiest in the world,
Please take care of your childhood!
***
I take your hand in my hands
And kiss the wreath on your wrist.
It was not in vain that I experienced torment,
To give birth to such happiness.
Fingers of your hand
I warm my cheek.
And, looking into our window,
The night admires you.
Sleep stroked long eyelashes,
Writing fairy tales for you.
I wonder what you will dream about,
My beloved daughter.
***
What power in a small hand!
The kid is walking, legs are crossing,
He is my whole world, clenched in a fist,
Walking along the path with me.
And me, who has experience and a home,
Friends, advances and pay…
Now I’m walking and thinking about
That there is no support, stronger than this pen.
.
***
my son
I can not sleep with him at night,
When my son is sick.
Can I give my life,
When my son needs it
I proudly call myself a mother!
I am grateful to my son for this!
Mom’s Helper
My mom and I are friends!
Where my mother is, there I am!
If she cooks soup, I help:
I take apart cups and pots.
Mom washes the floor – I’m next to her,
I spill it on the floor harder.
If there is laundry in the house, I am not shy
I pour powder and do not regret it.
Well, what if mom is on the Internet
Here I am most needed on the planet!
I help my mother a lot:
I press the buttons with zeal!
Mom looks at me. Sighs.
Everything is clear. Obviously approved!
That’s how my mother and I are friends:
Wherever mother is, there of course I am!
Read also – Love Poems
Daddy’s me
Dad, honey, don’t be angry!
You understand the reason,
We were born with you
With a proud title – a man!
***
What is happiness?
Such a simple question
Probably asked
More than one philosopher.
Actually
Happiness is simple.
It begins
With half a meter of growth.
These are undershirts,
Bootees and a bib,
Brand new described
Mother’s sarafan.
Ripped pantyhose,
Broken knees,
These are painted
In the corridor of the wall.
Happiness is soft
Warm palms,
Candy wrappers behind the sofa,
Crumbs on the sofa.
This is a whole bunch of
Broken toys,
This is a constant
Rattle of rattles.
Happiness is heels
Barefoot on the floor.
Thermometer under the arm,
Tears and injections.
Abrasions and wounds,
Bruises on the forehead,
This is permanent
What? but why?
Happiness is a sled,
Snowman and slide.
Small candle
On a huge cake.
It’s endless
“Read me a fairy tale”,
These are daily
Khryusha with Stepashka.
This is a warm nose
From under the blanket,
Bunny on the pillow,
Blue pajamas.
Splash all over the bathroom,
Foam on the floor.
Puppet theatre,
Matinee in the garden.
What is happiness?
There is no easier answer.
Everyone has it –
These are our children!
A.A. Fet
Beautiful, she stood quietly…
Beautiful, she stood quietly,
Her baby brother was also quiet,
She whispered words of prayer to him,
She was beautiful at that moment.
And so beautiful was the baby in her presence
Curly-haired, with faith in blue eyes,
And how much humility is in the sign of the cross,
How wonderfully there is a lot of children in prayers!
Right next to me is the antediluvian
And a smart dandy, invisible to people —
Even if out of friendship he imparted sarcasm
His insensitive irony.
***
Take care of your children,
Do not scold them for pranks,
The evil of your bad days
Never take it out on them.
Do not be seriously angry with them
Even if they are at fault,
There is nothing better than tears,
That have rolled down from the eyelashes of relatives.
If fatigue knocks you down,
There is no urine to cope with it
Well, your son will come up to you
Or your daughter will stretch out your arms,
Hold them tight,
Treasure your childish caress
This happiness is a short moment,
Hurry up to be happy.
After all, they melt like snow in spring,
These golden days will flash by,
And they will leave the hearth of their native
Your children who have matured.
Flipping through the album
With childhood photos,
Remember the past with sadness,
About those days when we were together.
How will you want
At this time to return again,
To sing a song for them little ones,
Touch your cheeks with tender lips.
And while children’s laughter is in the house,
There is nowhere to go from toys
You are the happiest in the world
Please take care of your childhood.
***
You are sleeping, my little friend,
Innocent heart of an angel.
I’ll quietly go to the bed,
And kiss you on the cheek.
I’ll carefully, breathing a little,
I’ll cover you with a blanket.
My soul lives in you,
In a little tired child.
You will turn on your side,
Smiling nonchalantly in your sleep.
Sleep sweetly, my dear son, –
Whisper, touching your hair.
Meekly keep your dream
I will be the dark nights.
Oh, my God, do not let me comprehend
He is anxious and sad.
I’ll put it in my little hand in the morning
A gift from a forest bunny.
There is nothing dearer to me
Your mischievous look.
And when you wake up, I’ll come up,
I’ll see the joy in cute eyes.
It’s good that kids
They believe in fairy tales with such a desire.
Oh, mommy, – you whisper to me, –
Who was today, guess?
Came to me from the forest
My good friend, fluffy bunny!
And joy and delight in the eyes,
And overflowing and sonorous laughter,
And I will kiss your
Gift clenched hands!
I pray for you
I pray for you, my dear,
So that God keeps you from misfortune,
So that good luck covers you with a wave,
It does not break so that the heart is broken into pieces.
I am praying. May the Lord descend
And relieve you of anxiety.
May the Lord take you far away
Your route from a dangerous road.
I pray for you, my dear.
Although fate gives us lessons,
But let people in cold and heat
Not be cruel to your life.
I pray for you, for one thing.
You are my soul, sun and air.
Without you, my house is inhospitable,
Without you, the best rest is not a holiday
I pray for you. I – pray …
For you, I am ready to try.
I’m afraid of only one thing in life:
God forbid I stay without you!
Short poems about children
Helper
It’s hard for mom, I know that.
I often help her –
I’ll put all the toys in a row,
I’ll tell her how to wash.
Would grow up to the table,
I could do a lot.
Multi-colored gift
I am a multi-colored gift
I decided to give it to my mother.
I tried, I drew
with four pencils.
But first, I pressed the red one too hard,
And then, after the red one, I immediately broke it
The purple one broke,
And then the blue one broke,
And the orange one broke…
***
Dads walk under the windows,
Toil,
Dads walk,
Terribly worried,
All of a sudden
Embracing,
All of a sudden
Suddenly kissing.
They become immediately
Tearful
And they wipe their noses
Handkerchiefs…
And outside the windows
Moms are happy
In arms with sons
And daughters.
The sun is shining
Affectionately, affectionately,
At the porch, my dad and I
With a stroller,
I’m ready to shout at the top of my lungs:
– We came to receive the little brother!
***
Bending over the baby’s bed,
You smile a little tired.
And carefully, without breathing,
Slightly straighten the blanket.
Your little one is sleeping sweetly,
How angels probably sleep.
And a little nose sniffs
Beloved son or daughter.
Their dreams are carefully preserved by their mother
Sometimes she deprives herself of sleep…
Her protection is like granite,
Even though she looks so fragile.
But maternal love
A hundred times stronger than all misfortunes.
She is the protector of all dreams,
In which Happiness smiles.
***
I am walking with my daughter,
I am holding her hand.
I’m walking with my daughter,
And I see a cat nearby,
I see puddles and bushes,
I see different flowers,
Beetles, bumblebees, daisies
And various pieces of paper.
Everything is unusual for her.
And the world is not yet clear.
And next to her
My world came to life –
Huge and beautiful!
Poems for mother
Sweet and tender voice
A bird is hovering over me.
How easy and serene
Next to my dear mother!
I will take her hand,
I will look into her eyes.
Her laughter will drive away the cloud,
A tear of rain will fall.
I’ll sit on my mother’s knees
And I’ll hug you comfortably.
I don’t need sweeter happiness,
I’m not afraid of anything!
Funny poems about children
Andrey Bely
Quarrel
Two daughters of an old count braided their braids like a snake
.
When watering flowerbeds, watering can
is drawn from a barrel.
Here they are sitting on a bench,
picking up cutesy skirts,
placing a watering can
on the sand and folding sponges into a heart shape.
But as soon as the image of a strict governess disappears in the window
,
squabbles arise
and show horns to each other.
Skirts, legs flashed,
curls smoothed with a comb …
Paths
were compacted with fine gravel and crushed stone.
***
Children taken from mother’s fairy tales,
From blue skies, from sweets with a surprise,
From pencils, mother-of-pearl paints,
With which mother draws sketches.
From white doves, beautiful bouquets,
From gentle whispers in the long night,
From once sung cheerful couplets,
Daughters are born from father’s caress.
And from mischievous and true stories,
Which dad told mom
About sunny childhood, from books in which
Brave people of the sea conquered
Sons will be born.
And strong birds
Waving their wings, they will bring to the cradle
A wonderful particle of mom and dad,
Which they were waiting for and wanted.
When I become an adult
V. Lunin
When I become an adult,
I will let my son do everything:
Eat sour cream with my hands
And jump on my back,
Wallow on the sofa,
Carry a beetle on the wall,
Do not wash your face,
Screaming,
Run through the puddles,
Cut off the legs of a chair,
Do not sleep and do not dine,
Riding a cat,
Turn the clock spring,
Drink water from the tap .
..
I will let my son do everything ,
When I become an adult!
Adult children
Anatoly Movshovich
Adults –
One has only to look at them
,
and immediately see how much childhood they have.
Both in father and mother,
and in a strict passer-by,
and in old grandfather
with grandmother – too.
This is especially noticeable,
when they break something,
suddenly break it,
when they buy a new thing from pay
,
when they receive a gift
from their granddaughter.
They know how to laugh,
like children.
But they are all adults –
adult children.
And so
differ from children,
that they have little time
for the game.
You have read poems about children. Read also:
- Poems about grandmother, poems for grandmother, congratulations to grandmother
- Poems about dad, poems for dad, congratulations to dad
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Different children – Tsvetaeva. Full text of the poem – Different children
Literature
Catalog of poems
Marina Tsvetaeva – poems
Marina Tsvetaeva
Different children
There are quiet children. To nap on the shoulder
Affectionate mother has a sweet day for them.
Their weak hands do not rush to the candle –
They do not play with fire.
There are children – like sparks: they are akin to a flame.
In vain they are taught: “After all, it burns, don’t touch it!”
They are capricious (because they are sparks!)
And boldly seize fire.
There are strange children: insolence and fear in them.
Slowly cross yourself in autumn,
They approach, do not dare, turn pale in tears
And crying run away from the fire.
My dear! Your judgment was too careless:
“I was afraid of the fire – so perish in the darkness!”
Your accusations gnaw at my heart
And they bent my soul to the ground.
There are strange children: because of their fears
They die on foggy days.
They have no salvation. Think of them
And don’t blame me too much!
You bent my soul to the ground for a long time…
— My dear, your judgment was so merciless! –
But still I am your heart – and in the darkness
“In a few bright minutes!”
On children
On life
Silver Age
Poems of Tsvetaeva Marina Ivanovna – On children
Poemsa Marina Ivanovna – On the life of
Poema Marina Ivanovna – Silver Age
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So
Why are you crying? – So. —
Crying is so funny and stupid.
For children
I like that you are not sick of me…
I like that you are not sick with me,
I like that I am not sick with you,
About love
They and we
Heroines of Spanish legends
Were dying, loving,
Like a quiet child, caressed by darkness,
With endless languor in a wandering gaze,
About life0002 Silver Age
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My Poems Written So Early
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