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Childhood Sonnet Poems | Sonnet Poems About Childhood

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

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In a Field of Daisies - A Contemporary sonnet

In a field of daisies, bathed in a  perfume
of wild roses, clover and ocean brine,
you and me in the early afternoon
drinking Kool Aid, pretending its wine,
and sharing left over crumbs with a few tiny ants,
that scurry across a thread barren cloth
that has spent years in a trunk with a moth,
While we eat a meal fit for a King and Queen-
Periwinkles, Dulse and canned Sardines- 
treasures from the Great Atlantic Sea,
while the rolling waves break on the rocks below
this field where so many daisies grow

He loves me, he loves me not, my daisy flies away,
And only Jimmy and the wind will ever know.


Written:  June 9th, 2014




Author's Note.

This was my first picnic with my first love - We were 6 or 7 years old at the time.


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Choices, Voices and Bad Company

Choices, Voices and Bad Company

Bang , bang , gunshots in heated night air sang 
jump back , be careful where you nightly hang
Fun, fun , going where the night action stays
danger waits hidden when nights replace days!

Kick it, kick it, time to chase the gals
beware safety gone if you hang with pals
So carry a shooter , step up your game
name in the paper soon may be your fame!

Hold on, hold on, your future life has game
you grab future rejecting drugs so lame
Stand up , a man that carries his own weight
yield not to greed, lust and all useless hate!

Live on, living to find your star and shine
Live on, love in life ,  love so very fine!

Robert J. Lindley  08-24-2014

Note: A sonnet that presents today's life choices are 
often far more serious when made than young
people can realise. Seeking action and thrills 
always come with a cost. Quite often a deadly cost!
Don't freely decide to get yourself so lost!
Been there, down that, long ago..


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School

Why does a child have to go to school?
Why do we have to spend so much time working?
This seems simply cruel.
Isn't it just irking?

Some people say school is important for learning
Couldn't a child learn on their own?
It would cause much less yearning,
After all, we can learn from our phones.

I can somewhat see a parents point in sending their child to school.
But why would you choose what we wear?
It just allows us to look like fools,
We may as well come to school bear.

As you can see school is not fair,
So please don’t force us to go if you care.


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Sandcastles

When I was a young boy,
I built a castle on the beach.
I made it from sand with my shovel-toy,
Then the waves grabbed it in their reach.
They tore my castle down,
And dragged it down into the sea.
So i took my shovel and, with a frown,
Built another castle quickly.
I built it bigger and stronger
Than the ones in the past.
I thought this one would last longer,
But its walls would no longer last.
I built a moat around the last one that day,
But the waves seemed desperate to wash them all away.


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Mother's Love

Mother’s Love (Sonnet)

Love begins at the time of conception
When a mother’s dear child grows in her womb.
Her life is changed to thoughts of protection.
Excitement and wonder of gender bloom.

This new little life will bring heightened joy.
A new baby is what dreams are made of.
It matters not if it’s a girl or boy,
Birth will bring happiness and so much love.

Teaching a sweet child as he or she grows
Is a most important tool used each day.
To teach how compassion and kindness flows,
As they emulate and do things our way.

A mother’s love, with every endeavor,
Is a gift to her children forever.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong

Happy Mother’s Day to every Mother and Step-Mother and Grand Mother and 
G. Grand Mother. Happy Belated Mother's Day to those of you in countries 
where you have already celebrated Mother's Day.


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Sparkin'

The one room school house always was too full.
The windows oversized and chill on winter days.
You sat behind me, I thought you were real cool,
one day you passed a note to me to say...

I Love YOU, you wrote in colored pencil.
I kissed the yellow paper on that line,
then took out a red pen and I stenciled
a perfect heart, PLEASE Be My Valentine.

He blushed from ear to ear and, he scribbled more
a crumpled paper said,  "Please meet me in the park...   
on the bench, by the fence,".. too cute to ignore.
The bell rang, out we went into the dark to spark.

That day so long ago, now we're old and gray
I often think of that kiss, as near me, my man lays.


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Sleep, My Little One

Soft night has come my little child, so rest
Come lay your head upon your mother’s breast
Oh close your eyes and listen as she sings
And soon you’ll hear the sound of angel wings

Come drift away into the land of dreams
Where fairies dance and smile while sunlight gleams
Oh come and float among the clouds of white
No harm can stir within this world of light

Come laugh and play with fluffy cotton sheep
You’ll clap and sing and they will run and leap
Then come return into your warm, soft bed
Let evening kiss you softly on your head

Oh sleep until the night at last is done
Oh sleep and dream my precious little one


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Yes, There Really is Monsters

Growing up as a child I never wanted to sleep alone
In fear of the darkness and most of all the unknown
“Mommy is there monsters” I would commonly ask
Her reply was “only on Halloween, the ones we see in masks”

Still not satisfied with her answer and questioning her some more
Asking her the same old thing as I did the night before
Frustrated and exhausted she finally took me by the hand
Looking under my bed, in my closet and even inside my night-stand

“So see my daughter the monsters are only in your head”
“It’s time to get some sleep me dear, now do as I have said”
Respectfully obeying my mother; my little body trembling with fear
Wishing the hour was morning, praying for “him” not to appear
 
But as the darkness faded and uncomfortable silence came about
I could hear the monster stirring, getting ready to come out
Hoping the noises I heard were only my brothers messing around
Pulling the covers over my head, hoping and praying not to be found

The footsteps getting closer, the monster is almost to the foot of my bed
I now can hear his heavy breathing, oh God how I wished he was dead
Quietly he lifts my covers back and lays down in the bed beside me 
Touching, groping and mauling, trying to cover my eyes so I cannot see

He took away my childhood and with that my trust and self-esteem
A pleading child without a voice, invisible as it would seem
So yes my daughters there are monsters, everywhere we look
Saying as I remember my childhood and everything he took


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Teach Your Children Well

Children learn by the games they play
the games you teach them to control
They watch your eyes, they watch your smile
your opinions take a heavy toll.

Do you teach them to run and jump high
or lead them into a darkened room.
Do you give them guns and sword play
or send them outside to grow and bloom.

Have you explained the hurt, and the pain
which comes from the letting of blood
or glorified taking of sides
and bleeding victims crushed in the mud.

Two dimensional deeds plant red seeds
in the fertile fields of growing minds.



*title credit to Crosbey Stills and Nash


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FATHER

FATHER
Which love is not a struggle to the mind?
'tis easier to think love glides along,
regardless of a road not there to find,
or never caring what is right or wrong.

One love, of child, a father's steady hand,
protecting innocence, through many years
as if he knew the way, and had it planned,
to heal each mortal wound as it appears.

As if all things begin with his okay,
the good, the joy of life to build upon;
demanding right, and hoping in some way
he's always with you, even when he's gone.

The banged up knee, your losing of a friend,
are yours to feel, but his to comprehend.
© RON WILSON AKA VEE BDOSA


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SUNDAY DINNER A hillbilly sonnet

        SUNDAY DINNER  (Hillbilly sonnet)
Ma's cookin now, so come and set a spell
and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best
before the settin sun, and who can tell
what's on her stove--but it will meet the test.

Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now?
And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot
for pourin on them taters--I allow
a little more than I should have--so what?!?

The butter it just melts on bread so light
to compliment the vegetables we grow,
now if you know a life that's half as right
as this, you'd better make it yours to know.

   And I will say the grace, to thank God for
   what He has give--so He will give us more.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


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Infinity and beyond

Deserve the world my child,my son
If I could give, with heart I'd run
Pray instead, I must for you
Placed many tools to get you through
Life ahead unknown my son

So much I wish, your dreams ignite
Strive for all, please shine that light
Become the man I know you'll be 
But please for you and not just me
Dig deep inside with every might

Strive for all thats due, you'll see
Deserving much from world, not me
Kindness, compassion, intelligence too
Owning these gifts, build confidence in you
By example, trust, live life for thee

Accept these words I give from me
My child, a man will come to be




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MEGAN'S HIT - the Baseball Sonnet

      MEGANS HIT - the Baseball Sonnet
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"

I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!

I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!

    He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
    to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!

                    II.

"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
(the umpire was my Daddy, in this game.)

I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!

"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!

   Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
   while I choked up--and readied for a hit!
   
                   III.

All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"

The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!

I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!

   The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
   a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!

                   IV.

The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!

The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be 
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!

The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"

   Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
   and on his heels--I made my promise good!

                V.

We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!

The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!

I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me!
        
    Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
    the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


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One on One

Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh played ball
at the old schoolyard next to my friend’s house
after they were done only Pooh stood tall
we all looked at each other where’s the Mouse?

Pooh was sweating and panting out of breath
I handed Pooh a towel and he smiled
Pooh started crying about Mickey’s death
Mickey just vanish like a losing child

I never thought Mickey as a sore sport
out of nowhere two stretch limos appeared
Mickey called out lets go to the resort
after the Disney Buffet we all cheered

Walt Disney has brought happiness to all
our childhood memories will never fall


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Lost time

I was just a child of four with not much to say
But I enjoyed the times I went next door to stay
You were so sick in bed and didn't feel quite well
But you were strong and played with me so I could never tell

You body was full of cancer you were very ill
But whenever I saw you, you'd smile and I'd sit still
I'd climb next to you on your bed, I wouldn't wiggle
I saw the sparkle in your eyes and sometimes we would giggle

I'd love to sit and dress up in your necklaces and hats
Pretend I was a princess while you would just lay back
I was too young to know how sick you really were
You never ever let on, you let me play, a lot was just a blur

As I grew I was told you loved the time we shared
I wish that you were never sick and knew how much I cared.


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SEASHELLS' TRANCE



It was almost like a summer ritual To prance along the brightened shores of grain, When balmy trees wafted as usual Aunt Em’s hut glazed nearby lakeside's terrain. Waxed seashells rose like buffed pods on the ground, Dotted and curved, echoing of hummed waves played As we gathered them on coast walks, spellbound The array of tinseled humps were engraved And strung together into bright marble charms. While Aunt and I giggled, skirts fluttered on air Knitting loops as bracelets on tanned forearms, An enchantment draped by August’s fanfare. …I revel now at the trance of seashells’ gifts my childhood heart nestling magic that uplifts! Story Poem Contest, Carol Eastman Written by: nette onclaud


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Putting My Life on the Line

Tiptoeing in the middle of  the night
Certain that Mom and Dad are out sight
Stealing away to do what I love best
Heart pounding like a hammer in my chest

There on those linen sheets you wait for me
All spaced out,  and as blank as blank can be
I close the door and hide away the key
Escaping  from a life of drudgery

Once again putting my life on the line
Though Mom and Dad say it is such a crime
Neglecting my homework to be with you 
Knowing to thine own self I must be true

So with pen in hand I lay myself down
And pray that this diary won’t be found

Author:  Elaine George
                  
Written:  may 19, 2014 
Inspired By my imagination for the  contest
 


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Megan's Hit

        MEGAN'S HIT
There on the deck, I took a practice swing
tormented in the possiblity--
then hope was dashed--I found no hope to bring
up to the plate, when Ump cried out, "Strike 3!"
I was the last to bat--in this last game--
just oh for three, my record said it all!
And in the dugout, faces all the same,
the looks of gloom! Just waiting for my fall!
I took my place, right up there to the plate.
Out on the mound, the picher grinned at me--
as if he hoped to make my swinging late,
or throw me one--I couldn't even see!
    He'd walked a batter, waiting on first base,
    to tie the score, if we'd get in the race!

                    II.

"No girl can hit!" I heard the catcher call,
and echoed from the bleachers was the same,
we made our stands, the umpire cried "Play ball!"
and then I vowed to get us in the game!
I gripped the bat, the windup came too fast!
As did the ball, but where it should have been!
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled at last--
The fastest ball that I have ever seen!
"She'll never swing!" the catchers words for me--
then threw the ball out to the pichers hand!
While out on first, my runner waits to see
if I can swing, or only make a stand!
   Right in my face--the picher scouled a bit--
   while I choked up--and readied for a hit!
   
                   III.

All set to hit--I made it then my dream!
and came the ball--I could not swing at that!
"Strike twoooo!" the umpire made it scream,
then said to me, "You've got to swing the bat!"
The bat it weighed a hundred pounds or so;
"She'll never swing," the pichers eyes did say,
With that he gave his very best, I know!
I glued my eyes--as it screamed straight my way!
I never saw the hitting of the ball!
but won't forget the cracking sound of it!
Nor know again the feeling of it all
of this my very most important hit!
   The sound it made--that ev'ryone could hear--
   a batters dream--but pichers' greatest fear!

                   IV.

The ball soared hard and high past second base!
then seemed to drop so slowly from above,
as quick as I could get us in the race,
I watched it bounce right off the fielders glove!
The tying run was just ahead of me!
Ole "Never-Steal" now ran like not before!
And right behind, fast as my feet could be 
I gave my best! And then I gave some more!
The crowd gave out the seasons wildest plea!
As I yelled to the runner just ahead,
with all the grit that I could find in me,
"I'm going in! And if you stop--you're dead!"
   Ole "Never Steal" was giving all he could
   and on his heels--I made my promise good!

                V.

We saw the ball come by as rounding third!
Not once a hesitation in it all--
and as the umpire watched without a word--
he swept his arms, to make the tying call!
The score was tied--third baseman set to throw--
now ready at home plate, the catcher stood--
and through it all--my only thought was GO!
but if I did--I'd have to make it good!
I knew the ball was thrown down to home plate!
The catcher poised, and glued where he should be!
I had to slide, and heard the ball hit late!
"She's SAFE! She's SAFE!" my Daddy yelled to me! 
    Now layed to rest--our coaches greatest fear--
    the only game we won--throughout the year!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


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THERE BE DRAGONS


With questioning eyes, my worried child shared 

her nightmare. A dragon, she said quickly,

was in the hallway and it swallowed me.

It opened its mouth and I disappeared. 

My precious Verity, her name means truth.

It suits. She's both honest and curious,

but perception makes her deep, serious,

oh, my innocent girl, my guileless sleuth. 

Another young girl had been in the news.

I gazed at my daughter, thought of Tori,

sickened, stunned by the all too real story

of light consumed by an animal’s ruse. 

Dragons are pretend, I lied. Facts, I stalled.  

Because monsters live and do lurk in halls. 





*Dedicated to Tori Stafford. 





May the animal(s) who took, used and then killed her rot in jail but first I hope they are subjected to the horrors she endured and may God forgive me for not forgiving them.  For more information, here is a link, but I warn you that the details will haunt you and are graphic and disturbing and not for the sensitive. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/story/2012/05/14/sentencing-hearing-michael-rafferty-tori-stafford.html.  


This is a modern Sonnet .


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Childhood

There is a world of endless exploration,
The whole of life yet at its blissful berm,
A place of wonder and vast imagination,
With views of this world in its purest form.
A world that all have paid a passing visit,
And drove men mad with longing for another,
Its greatness, not realized whilst they were in it,
For years was cause of unsatisfied hunger. 
For alas, only once can this grand place be seen,
Its innocence can never be regained,
Its borders crushed by an aging world obscene,
And not but precious memories remain.
	From this world there is much that can be learned,
	Though, sadly, there’s no hope of our return.


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Catch Me If You Can French Sonnet

<               enticing to eyes watching mama's pink roses bloom
                 fourty years later someone else now cares for them
                 fresh cut daily and seen in her arms their long stems
                 tears streaming down face I sit under swollen moon
                 waiting watching for sun to come up again soon
                 to catch one more glimsp of mama's planted old gems
                 unfurling petals before been chopped or condemned
                 think I'll ask if can take one for my dining room

                 aroma bursting amidst thy supper's table
                 bowed heads we come and thank our Heavenly father
                 somebody still cared though sick and times unable
                 and answers it's door for which one has come bothered
                 to let bask in roses empowering fable
                 and not to be called as it's one's roses robber



French Sonnet is a poem with rhyme scheme
Of ABBAABBA and CDCDCD
Or ABBAABBA and CDECDE
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.


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Moon is my Muse

Throughout my life the moon always been there
I remember it in the Tampa skies
I even saw it at the Bloomsburg Fair
just a little tot in Tampa time flies

The moon shines in Pennsylvania as well
I have looked up on it many of times
Those Tampa days I will no longer dwell
Only thing is living here cost more dimes

And the moon and stars comfort me at sea
The sunset and sunrise was like heaven
Those night time lookout watches moon and me
US skies over Seven Eleven

Yes the moon and I have some memories
I know we both can tell many stories




   Moon is my Muse                                                                        3/05/2013


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BAREFOOT GIRL

BAREFOOT  GIRL


To my empty garden one day in the heat,
Hair full of daisies and floating on the breeze,
Came a carefree little girl in bare feet,
And her dog,  completely at  their ease.

They  passed  my orchids and roses so sweet, 
Found a cool place to play beneath my trees.
They ran  barefoot  round the vacant seat
And rolled around on  feet and knees.

I watched from my window as the happy  pair 
Danced and laughed,  then in a blink 
Jostled and turned, ran here and there.
When tired they sat down.  I smiled  to think

     How my garden was complete and pleasant
     With my shoeless daughter and her dog present.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 



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It's Good To be Young

It’s good to be young every once in a while So we can be rid of our tensions and pains; To be full of rich and vibrant energy That our young are so full and spend each day. It’s not being immature or ignorant. It’s neither innocence nor blindness to all. It’s called letting go of our pains and woes. It’s called clearing our thoughts clouded by our life Full of obligations and work schedules. Sometimes, it’s good for us to let go of all Things that makes us less human and more machine. It’s time for us to cease all work and conflict, And be like children who are living in peace. It’s good to be young at least once in a while.


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New Life

in early July nineteen-eighty-six
waking up in the naval hospital
what’s going on here my mind playing tricks?
no longer would I see Reggie Little

whenever I stood I couldn’t do it
and it was very hard for me to walk
for that July wheelchair I’d have to sit
the worse thing was stuttering when I talk

then came walker and crutches and good-bye
I was heading back home which wasn’t good
reliving my childhood stuttering why?
when I talked I was so misunderstood

now I'm walking on my own less stutter
luckly my life my life isn't in the gutter