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Alliteration Childhood Poems | Alliteration Poems About Childhood

These Alliteration Childhood poems are examples of Alliteration poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Alliteration Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Alliteration | |

My Alligator Artie

My pet alligator sits under my feet.
He waits for food to fall while I simply eat.
He likes to chase the ball and bite with his sharp teeth.
His claws are super pointy, and he walks upon a leash.
He’s scaly without baths, 
Smelly when not clean.
He’s very good at “sit,”
And trained to not be mean.
He likes the water much, except for when it rains.
And when we’re gone,
All day long,
We keep him in a crate.
My pet alligator is the best pet on this Earth,
I’d never trade him ever, for everything he’s worth.

Copyright © Emily Marshall | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration | |

PUDDLOLOGY

6 years old
Puddle MAYHEM

puddle SMASHING 
puddle DASHING
puddle CRASHING
SOAKING WET

Not SUMMER TIME YET.
NOT even close
AUTUMN AT MOST

THE PURPOSE OF
PUZZLING PUDDLOLOGY
SOAKING WET.

Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015

Details | Alliteration | |

Lizards

lizards 

black tar sweats, squabbles, shakes in the glare of the ocean of blue.
white light engulfs the sky. 
stealing the heat we grip the ground with our claws.
scan the black tar with our yellow eyes. 
our blood begins to warm.
her hair is melting to soft green scales and mine to black
blending into the ground.
we are lizards,
we laze in the sun,
it cannot scare us with its glare 
we are lizards, 
silent strong quick predators,
unnoticed yet still there. 

we stalk a flying bumble bee; shattered glass, yellow string 
buzzing it moves anxiously, falling, rising in the wind 

she moves too slowly to catch it 
it glides higher in the sky 
we watch as it soars to freedom 
we should have learnt to fly 

black tar engulfs my vision 
cradles and crushes my head 
white noise of harsh invasion 
her cry consumes my dread 
our scales snapped 
they tear from our skin 
without amour to shield the attack 
a stampede of torn and dirty shoes feast upon the remains 
they dig and dive into my stomach 
with intent to play their games 

teeth of bound dark leather 
snouts of practiced malice 
souls etched with childrens patterns 
dirt and gum 
now printed on our bodies 

with one more laugh and a jolt of pain 
they leave 

my eyes are blue now 
and hers are drowning 
the sky is blue 
the day pleasant 
the floor warm 
but the trance has gone 
our reality mangled 

we are no longer lizards 
we cannot pretend anymore 
we are children 
weak, shy, yet far too noticed 
labelled, bruised and saw.

by Jess Tizard

Copyright © Jess Tizard | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration | |

More Bounce Per Ounce

<            Betty Boop bought boyfriend Bimbo some basketballs to bounce 
              But being blind her boyfriend Bimbo bounced Betty Boop 
              Boy Betty Boop did boldly bounce bad








This Little Lady Is After My Own Heart
For No matter What She Does Wrong
Her Eyes Seem To Capture The One She Loves LOL
And Also One Of My Favorite Cartoons




Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011

Details | Alliteration | |

Seventh Age a second childhood

befuddled bewildered,
memory muddled;
perplexed then puzzled
as clarity contracts
and cataracts

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2011

Details | Alliteration | |

Petey opussum II

Petey 'possum, pirates pipe
picked a persimmon, puckered
his profile

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010

Details | Alliteration | |

Baby Boy Bradley

Mama Mable made music mellow with mood
But baby boy Bradley bellowed and booed
So sensitively she started singing sweetly
Yet the youngster yowled yearningly

Poor perplexed papa peered and pleaded
“No nocturnal nuisances are needed,”
He hurried through the house, his hefty frame hobbled
Baby boy Bradley basked blissfully with his bedtime bottle


*For Constance’s Forms of Poetry 101 contest.  Never tried alliteration before.
 by Carolyn Devonshire

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

Details | Alliteration | |

DON'T GET WILD LITTLE GIRL

Sweet sixteen - Save
You're young yet
Wild,worried,waiting
Don't deny dumb daughter
Feel free forever
Never know nothing
Men's mourning manly
Finding for fresh flesh
Be brisk!Behave!

Copyright © jun-jun villanueva | Year Posted 2011

Details | Alliteration | |

April fools'

(This is a fictional poem)

My neighbor played an April fools' prank when he called me and said I won a 
sweepstake.
I was furious when I learned it was all fake.
When he said April fools', you should've heard the names he got called.
I happen to be his barber and when he comes in my shop, I'm going to shave 
him bald.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Alliteration | |

Unnoticed

                                             I talk to him all the time,
His only words are "Hi,"
His heart is already taken,
My crush for him has not gone by.

The sight I see is broken,
The love I share is lost,
A shattered mirror in my eyes,
Never saying anything is my cost.

If I ever mentioned the word,
A word much more to say,
So hard to reveal or share,
Is fading with each day.

I'm scared I'd mess it up,
That I'd say something wrong,
To let him know how I truly feel,
No one can explain in song.

Never been kissed before, 
Im saving it for "the one,"
There is always a first for everything,
I know it can never be done.

Lust is such a word,
To be used in much of the wrong way,
If I am committed to this,
I shall never do this today.

How tragic my life will be,
For I think I've suffered enough,
I'm sure much worse has happened,
Love, a broken path, so rough.

Touching skin on skin, 
His lips as pure as rain,
My heart left alone, unnoticed,
As another day passes again.

Copyright © Paige Harris | Year Posted 2007

Details | Alliteration | |

Tiny Timmy

Tiny Timmy


Today Tiny Timmy tries to talk. Terry Thomson tells Timmy that talking is too 
tough for a two-year-old. Tony Thomson tells Terry not to tell Timmy that. Tammy 
Tilson tells Tony, Terry and Tiny Timmy that Tinseltown has two tall towers, 
Tinseltown Toy Tower and Tinseltown Trinket Tower. Tammy tells Tony that 
there's a Two-Year-Old talking translator there. So Tiny Timmy, Too-Tall Terry, 
and Talkative Tony travel to Tinseltown. While traveling, Tony talked to their 
Treasurer, Tommy. Tommy told them to talk to Tina. Tina told Tony to travel 
tirelessly. Then, during the Thomsons travel, Tina traveled too. At Tinseltown, 
Terry taps a tambourine, Tony talks to a toucan, Tina throws a truck, and Timmy 
traverses to the trinket tower. Then he finds the two-year-old talking translator. It 
translated to this,”Why does this poem have so many T's?”

Copyright © Nicholas Clayborne-Hughes | Year Posted 2006

Details | Alliteration | |

Red Riding Hood

One day, little Red Riding Hood’s mother told her to deliver a basket of food to her elder grandmother. 
She told Red not to talk to any strangers and to stay on the path to old grandmother’s house. 
Little Red concurred,
and left hastily. 

Not long after her departure, she met a man 
sitting under a tree.
He was skinny and twisted and evil 
like a petrified tree she had once seen. 
She still remembered it. 
He lay there, sulking in the darkness, 
contorting a caterpillar between his bony fingers,
who had been helplessly inching along.
It was a rather beautiful creature to Red. 

He looked up at Red, eyes as black as heroin,
The clashing of dark and light had finally made its debut on this joyous earth.
Come here, he said.
Red replied,
But mother told me to stay on the path and not to talk to strangers.
He set the mangled caterpillar on the cold earth, 
picked his gangly body up, 
And extended his long curious hand in a rather excited manner.
She dubiously met her hand with his.
Chills ran across her body like soldiers charging in war. 
The mood changed. 
Suddenly...

Red cape, blonde hair, eyes as viridescent as ecstasy.
She runs from the wolf.
The wind dragging his sharp claws through her mangled hair.
Racing through patches of thistles
pricking the bottoms of her soft baby feet.
She falls. 
Scratched. 
The feeling of abandonment sets in as the shadows grow closer. 
Red! Come to grandmother!
She hears a familiar voice in the near distance.
Grandmother! She calls

Grandmother hovers over her,
panting. 
She picks Red up by her wrist and drags her across the ground.
The curious cherub notices:
why Grandmother, what big ears you have!
All the better to hear you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big eyes you have! 
All the better to see you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big hands you have!
All the better to steal you with! 
Grandmother rips off her gown and a petrified tree emerges from the shadows.
Red, submerged in the darkness, lets out one last cry.

A wise old huntsman approaches the path
that Red and her assailant are embarking on.
He hears the cry of the poor child.
He goes running towards the terror-stricken girl
in hopes of becoming a hero.
To his dismay, he finds the girl.
Her wrists bruised,
her hair matted with mud and leaves,
cape -- torn.
Consumed by the wolf, the girl lie there, 
no more worries must she face.
There is no hero today, nor will there ever be.

Copyright © Morgan Houck | Year Posted 2016