Today's Poem: "Childish" by Chris Cooper
- FLAPPER PRESS
- 1 hour ago
- 3 min read
By Flapper Press Poetry Café:
The Flapper Press Poetry Café continues its series called TODAY'S POEM, highlighting one poem per article—that's right, just one—from poets from around the world.
Read our SUBMISSION GUIDELINES for TODAY'S POEM and send us your work for consideration to be published in 2026! Of course, you are always welcome to submit more of your work through our regular submission process as well. You can hit the link at the bottom of the article to read our regular guidelines. We'd love to see your poetry!
Today, we feature the work of Chris Cooper!
Chris Cooper is author of the 2024 debut novel Crazy by Conscious from Outcast Press.
His 2023 short story "Thirst" was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by The Metaworker. His short story "Finn Almost Buys a Goldfish" won the Emerging Writer’s Award from SPANK the Carp magazine, while his short stories "Descent" and "The Swim" were both recognized as Best in Fiction by Across the Margin in 2020.
Childish
Searing emotions,
perpetual motion.
Brown bear, two ducks,
a mermaid in the ocean.
No concept of the future,
no recollection of a past.
The fire truck is big,
the tunnel slide goes fast.
Eat the playdough,
throw the fork.
Knock down the blocks,
startle the stork.
Sparked by curiosity,
compelled by urges,
the sun always in the sky,
the serotonin always surges.
I want that!
That’s mine.
One second, you’re falling apart;
the next minute, you’re fine.
You mean what you say,
you say who you are,
present in play,
to catch a falling star.
Driven by needs and desires,
the id explains it best,
a creativity that never expires,
before the heaviness in the chest.
No fear of judgment,
no loyalty to an ego.
Living authentically to self,
before you’re forced to grow.
Learning self isn’t all,
and masks aren’t just pretend.
Standing up after a fall,
knowing joy comes to an end.
So pitter-patter feet
become calculated footsteps,
and crayons get replaced
with letdowns and regrets.
And that melody you used to hum
becomes a song you no longer know.
You let go for what’s to come,
and your life becomes the show.
And then it doesn’t matter
who was right and who was wrong.
Who cares who took your toy?
The days still move along.
That little window of time,
the purest you’ll ever be:
to climb without fear of falling,
to take from the giving tree.
Filling pockets full of posies,
unaware it all passes soon;
the little piggy goes to the market,
the cow jumps over the moon.
A letter from the youth,
transcribed by the old,
for Pinocchio to speak the truth
of what was never ours to hold.
To see beauty in the mess,
and bravery in the fear,
finding calm within the stress
for when Mom and Dad disappear.
So the spider goes up the spout,
despite being washed by rain,
shining flashlights on shadows
to prepare itself for pain.
And as the wolf stalks the forest,
trade the basket for an axe to survive.
The secret to staying happy—
keep the inner child alive.
From the poet:
This poem came out over the course of a month, in the middle of becoming a dad to two young girls. One is almost three, the other ten months, and life looks completely different now—my priorities, my perspective, even how I experience time.
Some days have been the hardest I’ve known. Others have been the most joyful. It feels like stepping back into childhood, seeing it again in real time—the wonder, the chaos, the emotion, but now with the awareness that it doesn’t last. That’s what stayed with me. How beautiful it is and how quickly it slips away.
I wrote this as a timestamp; something that captures this exact season before it’s gone. A reminder to stay present. Because I know these moments won’t last and one day, when I'm like 80, they’ll be the ones I return to. I’ve also included a visual piece I created to accompany it. The goal was to reflect that same contrast: innocence and imagination alongside the awareness of what’s ahead.
