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Personification Child Poems | Personification Poems About Child

These Personification Child poems are examples of Personification poems about Child. These are the best examples of Personification Child poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Orange Crush The Adventures of Soda Pop

My earliest recollection was being placed in a Coca Cola cooler in a Barbershop in Virginiatown Ontario. I heard the sound of the Nickle being placed in the coin slot. Then an eager little boy opened the top and peered in with twinkling blue eyes. I wondered which one of us he would choose? His tiny little hand reached towards me and guided me through a metal maze and yanked me out. He popped my top with the opener on the side of the Red machine. I wonder if that is how I got the name "Soda Pop". He held me close to his chest brought me over to his chair and placed me beside a stack of comics. I watched as he jumped up gleefully onto his chair.

He grabbed me with his two little hands and put me up to his mouth. My orange fizziness passed over his lips, onto his tongue and then down his throat. A big toothy smile and an orange coated tongue. I felt his little tummy bursting until a big burp and a giggle gave him relief. Even after my orange had been consumed he seemed to enjoy the texture of my glass as he rotated me in his hands. I remember him turning me upside down and peering at the room through my base. He liked the way I played with the light. When he was done he placed me in a paper bag with his comics to take me home.

To be continued...

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

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Orange Crush IV the adventures of Soda Pop

If you havn't read my other Orange Crush pieces, please start at the beginning. If you like them consider reading on.

Ricky jumped off the footstool holding me tightly in his little hand. I could feel his imagination coming to life. Within his mind the clear water had turned a brilliant orange and as he drank from me he could feel the bubbles tickling his throat. I felt alive with the possibilities this imagination of his would bring to light. 

The rest of the evening consisted of eating and watching images flashing on a square box. It rather bored me because they were in black and white, I much preferred looking out the picture window at people doing their thing and cars driving by. Real life was much clearer and had a lot more colors. As it got darker out, the color all seemed to fade away. I think I prefer day time. Ricky's mom said it was time for the kids to brush their teeth and go to bed. They all rushed up the stairs and I was left on the coffee table.

Ricky's mom was cleaning up and grabbed me and three Coke bottles that Dadio had emptied. She carried us to the kitchen and placed us in a segregated box beneath the sink. Just as she was about to close the door, little Ricky ran into the room and said "where's my bottle" mom responded "What do you want with a silly bottle?" he responded "I like it" His mom smiled, pulled me out of the case and handed me to Ricky. If I were able to smile I would have had a toothy grin of my own. 

More adventures for "Soda Pop" if there is enough interest to carry on with the story.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

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'Little Sparrow'

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”—Psalm 34:18 New International Version (NIV)

Little sparrow, what troubles thee;
      is it the stigma you face?
Little sparrow, what pierces thee;
      is it the shame of disgrace?

Is it the brokenness in your heart, 
     or the sorrows you can't outlive?
Is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive? 

What befalls you 
      is neither unfelt nor unknown;
God cares and calls you
      when you're cast out and all alone. 

God will never forsake you
     in your time of need;
God will never permit you
     to suffer or bleed.

02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest


Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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The Dream

By John Weaver

Whenever I dream of my little girl she runs and shouts and plays
Like all the other children in all their boisterous ways
I see her skip, I see her trip; I hear her laugh and cry
Then when she’s had her fun, home she’ll run and into my arms she’ll fly
With a great big hug and a teasing tug, she’ll cuddle me close and say
‘Daddy I love you heaps and heaps’ in her cheeky little way.

Whenever I dream of my little girl, she’s healthy, fit and well
With eyes alight and a smile so bright it’s really hard to tell
That my dream is a wish and a longing, a hope for something new
For her life to be one that is normal and able-bodied too.

But then I awake and I have to forsake my dream for what is true
That she cannot walk and she cannot talk like the other children do
That she cannot shout and skip about and cuddle me close and say
The things she desperately wants to, yet in her own special way…

Instead she talks to me with her eyes and reassures me with her smile
That all is well and I can tell that she’s happy all the while
Knowing that one day in some magical way, we’ll play together and scheme
And sing and shout and skip about…in an everlasting dream.

Copyright © John Weaver

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Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 

Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 

Copyright © Christina McCullouch

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Fairy's Child

Completeness present in thy whole soul
purest it from fully present all,
elf creature by chance on earth
antique moment, thou simply took birth,

Wild eyes rough as gods,
equal thou beauty goddess, failing all odds,
wasn't earth fate to get thee,
but for us all, left thou fairy free.

Go goddess go ! fled to thy fairy land
or penetrate simple in light deep sand,
As this earth not for thee to dwell,
or ring to call you up thy eternal bell.

as these earthly creatures might sight the deep
or in thy odd compartments might they peep,
go to the heaven or near it,
or they escape thy each fairy bit.

akash sangwan

Copyright © Akash ripper

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Music Child

I hear the music calling me
From the smooth and shiny rows of keys
The ebony and ivory
And all the melodies between
‘Come!’ it says, ‘And play a song
Upon your fingertips I’ll canter along.
Befriend the scales—arpeggios
Follow the tune wherever it goes
Let your heart become the notes
Let your soul become the pitch
Let your life become the piece
Together we shall play.’

I hear the music calling me
From brazen gold and silver strings
Between burnished frets I have seen
The beginnings of a reverie
‘Come!’ it says ‘And pick a poesy,
Fast and furious, young and rosy.
Strum my chords, tickled with rhythm
Call and coax the magic within them
Let your mind roam free and far
Let your voice capture the stars
Let your soul be one with mine
Together we shall play.’

I hear the music calling me
From silver, circular woodwind keys
The trilled and tranquil fairy fifes
Will slice the silence like a knife
‘Come!’ it says, ‘And toot a tune
And learn the lore of lustrous flutes.
Dance upon the bars and staffs
Our mystery within your grasp
Know the sharps, the flats, crescendos
Staccatos and diminuendos
Since your birth you’ve known it’s so
This is knowledge you should know
Lay your life upon these keys
Tune your heart to match my beat
Sing and dance your destiny
Together we shall play.’

Copyright © Susan Piwang

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Beautiful Inside and Out

Hello world here I am this is how it is going to go you accept me for who I am or you are not.

I am a child of God and I know for a fact that he made me in his own special way.

So sick and tired of people saying what is beautiful and what is not.

I am like a rose so delicate, soft and beautiful I shine like the sun with that special glow.

So sick and tired of the magazines saying that I have to be a size in order to be accepted.

I have to look like a movie star I have to have big breasts, a flat stomach and a big butt.

In order to be called beautiful I am a goddess anyhow I am a queen who shines with the stars who glows with the moon and who is beaming like the sun.

I am who I am and I refuse to change for anyone they are going to have to accept me for who I am or they are going to have to keep it moving.

I love who I am in this skin I am in this skin I shine in this skin I glow in this skin I am a child if God.

Copyright © Quondreika Cheatham

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Who Cares For The Carer

By John Weaver & Dedicated to Liz

Who cares for the carer? is the question that I ask.
Who is helping them help another with their overwhelming task
Who is trying to ensure they remain healthy, fit and strong
As they nurse and feed the one in need all day and all night long?

Who thinks about the carer? is the thought that comes to me
When all thought is for the needy and that’s the way it ought to be
But just a little bit of thoughtfulness would not go astray
For the one who works and struggles without a thought for pay.

Who worries about the carer? is my other great concern
If they should fall to sickness where would the needy turn?
The one they love is the one they want and on whom they depend
To wash and feed and dress them and to be with them to the end

Who would care for the needy? is the fact we have to face
If something happened to the carer then who would replace
That committed and devoted, caring loving soul
Who gave their all without complaint in a hard and stressful role.

But we know who will care for the carer 
When their mortal coil is through
When all their earthly labours get the recognition that is due
When at last they can rest eternal with no further demands
In peace and joy and secure in the Greatest Carer’s hands.

Copyright © John Weaver

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God made each Child unique.
Some can soar higher than an Eagle, and can meet life storms head on,
but each Child can fly the best they can.
My prayer is that as a Child grows into Adulthood, that they will continue to 
see each person as a human being.
God has made each one of us differently,
Each Child is special, with different talents and gifts.
For each Child is fearfully and wonderfully made by the Lord, and 
that each Child is a beautiful creation. 

Copyright © Kimberly Lowe-West

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This is a story about a chair

I am not sure where I was born or even when,
     Many grand places I have called home;
Now, I am one of many in a second hand store,
             Some chairs are old like me and some newer.

Some days, if the sun is just right it shines on me,
     That feels so good but mostly it is darkness;
I woke, to find a little girl looking at me thoughtfully,
            Grandma she called, I found it, I found the one.

An elderly woman came to look at me closely,
     Oh Dear Heart, it is so old and looks faded;
Grandma, I love it, please, please can we buy it,
            Okay smiled grandma, let me go pay the man.

Dear heart and Grandma carried me out,
    And down the street we must have been a sight;
Up the stairs and in the door and beside a big window,
          Oh, I like it there with the dappled sun shining on me.

They spent quite some time cleaning me, how it tickled,
     Then each took a turn on my faded upholstery seat;
And Dear Heart announced that I was to be her chair,
          Most days they would sit opposite with cups of tea.

They talked and laughed, read books and wrote poems,
     It was a perfect home and did I mention Fluffy Cat;
Oh yes, Fluffy Cat enjoyed a sleep in the sun on my seat,
          She could spend a whole day there sweetly purring.

One day, she jumped up and curled up for her usual nap,
     I felt her take a sigh and then everything went so quiet;
And I knew my furry ball, Fluffy Cat was gone up to heaven,
         All day I held her in my arms, I had lost a friend.

Dear Heart is the one who found her and picked her up,
     Sitting down on me she wept and wept and wept;
I wanted to wrap my arms around her and to comfort her.
          But of course because I am a chair that is silly.

Well, days passed and I could feel the pain in both,
     My two loves were grieving for that old Fluffy Cat;
Then guess what, a kitten was scratching my old leg,
         And all that Dear Heart girl did was laugh and laugh.

July 9, 2015


For the Story Poem Contest, sponsor, Carol Eastman

First Place 

Copyright © Broken Wings

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Mother's Favorite Child

I am Mother Nature's earned retreat
and she surely has her reasons,
she needs a break from the demands,
made by the other seasons.

Spring insists on soft pastels,
Fall boasts orange hues bright,
Summer spins her color wheel.
Me? I'm fine in white.

When mother lays her paintbrush down,
I do my very best,
to sketch a silver tapestry,
while she takes a rest.

On the shoulders of a North wind
my icy fingers freeze, while
lacy snowflakes dance and sway
like diamonds in the breeze.

Known as January,
I’m beautiful, windy and wild,
always welcoming me with open arms,
I'm Mother Nature's favorite child.

Copyright © Liz Labadie-Reilly

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What Right Has She Got to Be Happy

By John Weaver

‘What right has she got to be happy?’ said a friend to me one day,
With people at war and wanting and suffering in every way.

What right has she got to be happy with taxes as high as the sky,
And with the cost of living still rising, why is she so happy, why?

What right has she got to be happy when the weather’s so miserably bleak,
When the sun shines for a day and then goes away and it’s wet for the rest of the week?

What right has she got be happy when she can’t walk or talk or see,
Why is she smiling so brightly, it’s truly a mystery to me?

‘What right have you got to be moaning;’ came my eventual reply.
You should be glad to be fit and able and grateful, not to decry

What right have you got to be moaning, just look at her and you’ll see
That the only reason she’s happy is – she’s simply decided to be.


Copyright © John Weaver

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The months of the year

A dozen siblings we are in number.

One by one we come and go to slumber.


To hold your feasts,festivals,anniversaries,.. as a reminder;

That's why you cannot do without a calender.


Siblings we know we are to the core.

Yet we've never seen each other before.

Since the very past we've always been in groups of four;


And in some parts of our world, in two halves for a reason.

All because each of us has a favorite respective season.


To us a second is just like a cell;our basic unit of life.

When we are together, our lucky numbers are 366 or 365.


Four of us age 30; like a middle aged man.

Seven of us are older just by one.


The second of us rather the youngest,

From 28 he leaps to 29, and then reverses like a protest.

The 12th Child cannot miss Christmas.

The 4th Child cannot miss fools' day when people are spun around like discuss.

Just take a smart look at your MOUTH and then,

Summersult the middle to an N.

Yes! 12 we were and 12 we are..

For 12 shall we be fore ever..

Copyright © Papa Kofi Amoh

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Lonely Child

She never gave the love that I saught
He never asked about my thoughts
I stayed home with no one to play
Lost in my dreams I wondered astray
I searched for a friend which I never found
I cried out my heart, no one heard the sound
Sometimes I wished I was never born
Or never wake up and see another dawn.

I peeped though the doors and saw them fighting
All day it was just yelling and shouting
I sat by the window and watched the white clouds
Wishing I could float with them and sing out aloud
But alas! My reverie never lasted forever
A cold voice would soon shake me and it would be over
Sometimes I wondered to whom I belonged
I searched for an answer like a lost song.

The kids in my class thought I was strange
Kind of weird, no one wanted to my friend
I didn’t know how to smile, I never found a reason
Life seemed so dark, trapped in a prison
Wish I could run, millions of miles
Find a faraway place where I could learn to smile
But at the end of the day the hope disappeared
I made my way back to the place that I feared.

Through my little window I stared at the night sky
Wishing for a miracle as I saw with my wet eyes
A twinkling star up above there
A sign of an angel coming from somewhere 
I hoped and hoped, for a happy home
Where I would be loved and wouldn’t be so lone
 It never happened and every day passed by
The lonely child kept wishing she could die.



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Stump attracting me first and more than flowers

Flowers, grass, bushes, trees, attracted me in garden
In centre, a tree stump seemed to have complain 
Stump was sobbing, none was caring
Moved by tears, I moved closer to stump
Stump bit in solace, narrated nostalgia bit by bit

“ Was once gardens fame tree, grew lovers favorite flowers,
Lovers plucked flowers, friends wish came true for sure
On Valentine day, seeking wish fulfilling flower 
Lovers thronged, broke stem as they hysterically lunged, 
Lovers got flowers, their love life flowered
A child could not get flower, wept on failure
Queried, you are a child, flowers are for lovers 
Child wept louder said he too was a lover
Flower he wanted to present it to his Mother
Tears kept trickling , as if stump it was watering
Since then, every day child devotedly kept watering
Waiting for flower, be first one to pluck fresh flower
And present it to his dear Mother "

Deeply moved by childs love for stump, 
I felt ashamed for mad urge of plucking  flower
Flowers, thereafter, never plucked, left on tree to adore 
Not wanting to be sinned for depriving any child's present for mother
Now all stumps attracting me first and more than flowers      

( Entry for Members Contest - I fell in love with a Tree stump by Matt Caliri )    

Copyright © Hitendra Mehta

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The Old Rocking Chair

There’s another child on the way
I’ll still be here
As I was for generations
Year after year after year
I’ve seen a revolution and a Civil war
Brother against brother and cities burned
Memories of Cassie and me on the front porch
Waiting for her soldier who never returned
Each generation had its’ own story
From heartbreak and tears to romance and love
I was sitting there through it all
Warm sunny days and nights with the stars up above
I was handed down as the torch was passed
Another child born, time moves so fast
As each generation came to be
Mother and child came to me
I was there in the sun so warm
A sense of serenity after the storm
They came to me with love and tears
Seeing many emotions throughout those years
Times have changed, progress to blame
Many things different but a few are the same
Like the seasons changing, one to another
And the bond that exists between child and mother
There’s another child on the way
I’ll still be here
As I was for generations
Year after year after year.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

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This bumpy ride, it frightens me!
          The sun beats down upon my hide
              They've tied me up, we're on our way!
                      They said they're tossing me away!
As wind whips by, we're gaining speed
      My cries unheard, no voice to plead
           I'm swaying like a drunken fool
This old truck jars, with every turn
A fear in me as tires burn
     I'm pushed aside,
     They called me names
                         "Worn out, has seen much better days"
                          Outlived, they say, my days are done
Now disgraced
To be replaced
                  Forgotten that beneath my skin
                         Of peeling paint, of beaten face
                              A life in me, a charm within

This heartless deed, how can this be?...
       Please, won't you see the priceless me?
                   Beneath the grime, is treasured wood
                             A little care, restore my good!
I've seen so much in all my years
     Your child in laughter, yourself in tears
            And while you rocked, I soothed your fears
Tis not my fault that I've grown old
         While offering you a place to hold
            You bounced your child upon a knee
                Please hold a spot of care for me!

Don't dump me in among the muck
  Among the heap of worthless rot
       Have pity, please!!...forsake me not!
                 I'm worthy of a place, a part
                     A spot of mercy from your heart!
Please turn around, back to my home
I'll offer rest, for weary bones
When days are hard, and winter comes
I'll hold you up, when you're alone.

Revised for Matt Caliri's contest "Speak, Chair, Speak"

Copyright © Carrie Richards

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Beautiful child

from mom to dad from my lord god
you create me 
when you saw , you saw a precious child
a child of god with so much charm 
the gift is so real it made her cry
her laughter made it the most of all
and with in and with out they saw a beautiful child sent from god

Copyright © isabella davies

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Girl child

I am conceived
yet not finished
I am formed
yet not born
I am born
yet not alive
I am here
yet not seen

Copyright © ruchi prasad

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Copyright © Quondreika Cheatham