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Sonnet Childhood Poems | Sonnet Poems About Childhood

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

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Joyless Job

At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.

My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.

"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.

Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.

November 18th, 2014

Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"

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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.

Details | Sonnet | |


       Still the Worst Job Ever

How do I hold thee, let me count the ways.
I hold thee trembling, beneath kitchen sinks
crouched in the darkness of the brightest days
guiding thy beam as his patience shrinks.

I hold thee dulled by lightning’s fearsome flash
shakily awaiting  unseen anger
tortured by the inevitable crash
intrigued by the neediness of danger.

I hold thee wide eyed in dirt-floored cellar 
your flame slow flickering on edge of sight
dimming through the range of yellowed color
draining the darkness from a darkened night.

I hold thee, for my brothers all have fled
I hold thee, not knowing what they dread.

Submitted for - Sara Kendrick -  Jobs – Poetry Contest

Details | Sonnet | |

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..

Details | Sonnet | |

Irreplaceable Love

Oh, how I loved my little teddy bear
although I don’t recall from whom he came
or when I first laid eyes on him or where;
I only know I chose for him his name.

Yes, Pinky Winky’s name was like my own,
a playful silly nickname “Andy Pandy,”
and also in his ear a bell was sewn;
I jingled him and thought he was quite dandy.

Everywhere with me went Pinky Winky
until he met sad fate with one cruel splash.
He fell into the toilet and got stinky.
I wailed when Mother threw him in the trash.

Alas! The pink imposter in his place
no jingling made nor had dear “Winky’s” face.

For The Teddy Bear Picnic Poetry Contest of SandyIvy
-dedicated to PD

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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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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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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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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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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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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!


"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!

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!


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!


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

Details | Sonnet | |


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.

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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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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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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

Details | Sonnet | |

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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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.

Details | Sonnet | |


   (Apropos The Children I Know)

Act your age my darling little child;
Take care not to go about in blinded haste.
Enjoy this lovely life for a while;
Time is elusive and you have none to waste.

Listen, candy does not always last very long;
Can be as hard as rock, yet melts as easy as ice:
Teases your tongue with sweetness and then its gone;
Leaving you wading the emptiness of something once nice.

Yes, when you are young, innocent and very sweet,
This old life can throw many enticing things you way:
Making you think that it’s all good and life is always neat;
But be aware my child, life has her debts we all are bound to pay. 

For just as the night must surly turn into another day;
You my child, like me, will eventually grow old and gray.

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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

Details | Sonnet | |

My Saturday Morning Job

Saturday mornings my list was quite clear,
Pull out the comet and toilet bowl brush.
Windex, perfect to polish the mirror,
Finish the toilet with one final flush.

Scrubbing the sink till faucets do glisten,
Empty the countertop, free from clutter.
Scour the bathtub, with so much ambition,
While under my breath, complaints I utter.

Our shower the biggest job of them all,
With its showerhead and sliding glass doors.
Standing inside to scrub ceramic walls,
Finally finished by washing the floors.

Child labor I’d cry when I was not paid,
When I grow up, I am getting a maid.

Shakespearian Sonnet
10 syllables per line

Contest: Jobs

Details | Sonnet | |


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

Details | Sonnet | |

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!


"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!

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!


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!


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

Details | Sonnet | |

My Father's Car

Once were ragged souls like chattels branded,
  Blown by Atlantic wind and sail in chains:
Where long ago reeking slave ships landed
  African herdsmen in old Port of Spain.
And from my Father's car I saw the yields
  Where cane would men of burden burn and mash:
Where woman and child stooping in the fields
  Saw the ripping flesh and heard the whips lash.
Now broke are the fetters of time and fate -
  That car, that relic of a dying age!
And the ships of old and their human freight
  Hunted, sold, and transported in a cage.
In my Father's old Plymouth Belvedere
I saw ghosts of the mills and the ploughshare.


Trinidad & Tobago

December 2009

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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
Syllable count is 12 syllable per line.

Details | Sonnet | |

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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It Started With

Such whimsical stories, with a moral,
they were sure to teach me right from wrong.
All done to a cadence like a song,
there's no better way to learn than humoral.
I learned how to cope and not quarrel,
to stand by my beliefs and be strong,
don't be swayed by one or a throng.
After I read one, I went on to read several.

Dr. Seuss was my fisrst poet read,
The very first rhyme I ever heard,
were there in his stories, while in my bed.
While Grandma helped with the hard words,
he introduced me to poetical threads.
I was forever inspired, rest assured.

For the contest: Tribute By Sonnet
Sponsored by Francine Roberts

My poet of inspiration....Dr. Seuss

Details | Sonnet | |



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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Whose Afraid of the Dark

Oh mother, dear mother, come make my bed,
for the sun grows tired and has lost its shine;
come bless the place where I will lay my head,
surround it with angels, all that’s divine.
Oh mother, dear mother, come bar the door,
count the slow clock's chime as shadows descend.
Eve's breeze is now listless, birds sings no more,
all the land lays in silence , till night ends.
Oh mother, dear mother, sing me to sleep,
drown the foul voice of fears infestation;
let us join strength, to one another keep,
safe here in your care, and consolation.

Dear father, please protect us through the night,
save us from all harm, till dawn brings us light

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Tears of a Little girl

Tears of a little girl
that's so young, that's in her childhood, 
make a golden well, make a golden well,
but she doesn't realize
her tears sing a song so beautiful.
They sing a song of treasure,
they sing a song so wonderful,
they sing to worship God,
but she doesn't realize
she has a gift to sing.
She mustn't sing for anything
she must sing for the King,
but she doesn't realize,
she can sing so goldenly, (so as a golden well)

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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

Details | Sonnet | |

Childhood Sonnet

Childhood Sonnet I think of you often And times that we knew. Most were such glad times And life was still new. Childhood was shared With others so dear -- We were just kids then – And life was so clear. Now we look back in wonder And ask ourselves why If times were so happy Then why do we cry? Thus, sonnets are posted When childhood is toasted. Written by John Posey 8/11/14

Details | Sonnet | |

I Did It My Way

His shabby house sat on my street, and he
was like that run-down house - unwashed; unkempt.
So Barklay, with his slick black hair, would be
our school yard’s crow, one pecked at with contempt.

Another on my street was also jeered.
Poor Janno, homely girl with eyes that crossed.
The birds that mocked declared that she was weird;
though smart, she had a sparrow’s wings less glossed

And vaguely I recall the taunting words
that followed Janno and the gawky crow.
And not among the flock of strutting birds,
I could conceive an inkling of their woe.

Befriending rare birds, I did it my way.
I'd walk them home, for I don't shun a stray!

June 15, 2014

Details | Sonnet | |

sidewalk sonnet

Mom's back a crack to caulk
can't knock it in, until it's knocked
them dogs on down the sidewalk
keep on goin', no time for thought

there's rhymes to run
there's cadences to call
there's favors to sun
there's lawns to sprawl

Molly cries aloud the rules
jump a crack 'n' chalk a skip
sneakered hot dogs leap to cool
verses to holler 'n' cracks to trip

ya gotcha hopscotch, ya gotcha 'hood
sidewalk's gotcha a playin' mood good

© Goode Guy 2013-04-29

Details | Sonnet | |

I Sing For You

Dear baby, Daddy's boat is on its way. There blinks and whirls inside the starry sky a lighthouse sending us a gleaming ray. For you, my precious, is this lullaby. Your daddy rides tonight upon the sea. He's following the gulls that homeward fly, but soon you'll sit upon your Daddy's knee. I sing for you this seaside lullaby. The beacon's beam we see is light that guides, so close your eyes, sweet baby; sleep is nigh. As soothing as the rhythmic ocean's tides for you, my precious, is this lullaby. Dear baby, close your eyes and do not cry. I sing for you the seaside lullaby. For the Poetry Contest of Tracie ~*~Indigo Dreamweaver: "Lullabies"

Details | Sonnet | |

Lost and Lonely Waifs

Standing in the frigid wind outside the bus stop doors
She seemed lost and lonely as the cars past with a roar.
Waiting for my only child the son whom I adore
I couldn’t help but wonder where was she headed for?

The prodigal returned through those same two frosty doors
But though the night was getting dark no one came for her.
Stopping right beside her, the radio blaring a Christmas score
We asked her if she needed help could we do any more?

Her wind burnt cheeks rose with the smile she wore
“Thank you, no.” She said. Her eyes they did explore
the warm interior and the street stretched out before
My folks are late but coming soon at least I’m pretty sure…

We left her there before the door yet still my heart implores
How many lost and lonely waifs are left standing by the door? 

*Monorhyme is Sonnet form using slip or half rhyme.
Some good deeds go unaccepted.

Details | Sonnet | |

Growing Up Milestones

You learn how to crawl before you can walk Then pull up; let go; give a step a chance Little by little you’ll learn how to talk And you finally stop wetting your pants You’ll be starting school in just a few years Give Mom a big kiss; on the bus and go I know it’s scary and you’re full of fears All alone with kids you don’t even know Enter puberty; hormones give a shove Remember the day you shared a first kiss Followed by those bouts of puppy love Now you seek true love, one you can’t resist You’re reached adulthood, physically true Mentally you’re still got growing to do

Details | Sonnet | |

A warm Heart


Childhood summers days are the longest
They open up possibilities for endless play.
Those sunshine wrapped days made for fun
Have kept my heart warm over the years.
Now the days of possibilities are gone
And wailing winter wind whips me out of shape
Propelling me towards the dark days -
Those inevitable sunshineless days where
Reality seeps into your bones like chill
Seeping through cracks in a window sill.
I look ahead and warm my bones with 
Pictures of family and friends now gone
but etched forever deep in my heart where
the flaming fire of love is still aglow.    

Details | Sonnet | |

Greener Pastures

Lured across the world are we,
to setting sun, ancient sea,
privileged ones so carefree
lured to pastures greener?

Wander led the core of me,
to foreign suns Pharisees.
Naiveté fueled, footloose, free,
lured to pastures greener?

Herded child of Galilee
primed-pumped, then set free
fool's gold seeking protégée
lured to pastures greener?

Stop searching, surely, you see
beauty is all around thee.

Details | Sonnet | |

Children's Dreams

The dreams of children are simple things.
Of sunshine, laughter and a puppy's love,
Dress-up clothes or a new baseball glove.
The warm lap of comfort a mother  brings.

These things should be every child's right.
For many these dreams will never come true,
Some little ones have a  different view.
Their life is a struggle both day and night.

Food and shelter seem such a basic need.
To feel safe and warm at the day's end,
But so many for themselves have to fend.
How can these children possibly succeed?

Oh you kings in your castles so grand...
For dreams of children please take a stand.

Details | Sonnet | |



Clutching sandwiches, pencil and pop
we awaited the eight  forty-five,tickets
in hand;we scrambled aboard the

LMS, carriage, with  engine and van;
from the High Street, ‘ere long smoke
billowed  over the vale ,as we chugged along

Non stop, five miles the grimy coach rocked 
and swayed. ’All change, All change’ loudly,
the Station-master barked out his refrain,

we trainspotting lads so quickly de-trained,
all day to remain; Crossing, noting  and
recording each London-bound train.

Misty, episodic those days of pre-puberty, 
free of care, so fleeting to me

Details | Sonnet | |

Birthday Sonnet For My Wife

Close your eyes and bring back sweet memories
Try to remember at your early age
No recollection of your first few years
At age 6 was that far you could engaged

Wiping your face full of cake, dress like a princess
Friends and relatives joyfully singing
Greetings and gifts are the way to express
That day is still worth remembering

Open your eyes now and see what has changed
Childish fun is over, now settled down
Much meaningful life along the open range
Learned basics of life, now you have outgrown

Today is your birthday, another year to share
This special time with us, we really care

Noel N. Villarosa
21 April 2014

Posted also in:

Details | Sonnet | |

Mister Nibbles Ameri-Sonnet

<                      amidst grass carpet he plays
                        long ears bushy tail white paws
                        nibbles bulbs munches away
                        poor little thing had some flaws

                         hides hair braided and despaired
                         didn't stop this little guy
                         thought to self this wasn't fair
                         bowed head and started to cry

                         nectar is what he had sought
                         on this hopeful days journey
                         not to be trapped or be caught
                         or carted off on gurney

                         Mister Nibbles came to play
                         In garden's bedding today

Details | Sonnet | |

Grandmas Snack

Grandmas Snack

Grandmas long hair, nearly touching the ground
It's where my siblings gathered around
She'd give us hugs, hugs so tight
We would welcome them with great delight

On the porch we would sit
It was hard to be patient, I would admit
Do you want a banana, we would say yes
Eating carefully not to make a mess

Them bananas taste so great
I knew I wanted more, maybe eight
Slowly chewing making it last
Wanted time to slow down, not so fast

I'd give all my money for all it is worth
Grandmas bananas were the best on earth

Written by:  Debra M. Falgout

Details | Sonnet | |


Come list my dear to Christmas, tis the sound
of childrens voices ringing soft and dear
it brings to mind that hope may still be found
within a world that lives in constant fear

oh what a change the world's been going through
since first we met one winters Christmas eve
and all I ever had, the gift of you
was all I ever needed to believe

that peace on earth would be all of our days
and now just hear these children sing along
perhaps we judge them harshly, in some ways
for don't they seem the picture of their song?

   And as their sounds warm to the heart of me  
   I pray this is the way their world will be.
© Ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Sonnet | |

Learning with Age

as a boy I busted my chin open
and I needed to get myself stitches
once they were in place didn’t reopen
soon I was back playing in the ditches

I never knew what stiches was back then
I heard of stitches I was really scared
years later something else happen again
going with Rob for chemo unprepared

I heard of chemo without knowing it
after it was done he was in so much pain
heating pad on his back when he did sit
Cancer ate him away he was so drain

best friend for a few years helped me a lot
for many his life not a passing thought

Details | Sonnet | |

The Broken Girl-not me

Is my life not tortured enough for you to see? 
I am broken as can be. 
My heart is torn. 
My tears stain these perfect floors.  
Why are singing with glee? 
Why do you not care about my every plea? 
I am trapped in your arms. 
I am the hopeless moth. 
How did you pick me? 
What is it that you see? 
A girl untouched by life? 
A flower blooming in the desert? 
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.  
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.

Details | Sonnet | |



The silver clouds fled high, above the fair;
analogy of rainfall was and bliss,
the boats were swaying their unearthly prayer
like coffins cradled they above abyss.

Exploding foam his smile became and oath
with blooms of red the fates regaled Spring's knell
the main mast ropes and sails became his clothe,
communion hush he drunk, from Faith's dark well.

And in that stillness he regained her grace,
conceived soul's amvon to sustain her glance,
invited by her verse and rains' embrace,
a Stygian sermon was her offered chance.

That night the boats returned his childhood dream
to coves of their liturgical redeem.

© 06.10.2013 G. Venetopoulos

Details | Sonnet | |

C'est la vie

Late 80s, Quebec, Ville de Lasalle, A piece of my life, a piece of me, I left behind; Fait accompli. What I miss most? Je ne sais quoi! Cartoons! Lagaffe, Robin Dubois! Bicycle rides with my good friends, Next to the river, along the bends. I left behind a piece of my life…

Details | Sonnet | |

3 States 3 Schools

for first grade alone 3 states and 3 schools
as my mother was leaving my father
mom never gave me and Bonnie hard rules
we didn’t find the move any bother

Tampa Florida is where it all started
and the last place was Pennsylvania
Dad came to Baltimore we departed
I was glad it’s not Transylvania

it was Pennsylvania that was final
it was there their marriage came to an end
I know running away looks criminal
maybe mom gave this family a trend

both my sister and I have a divorce
neither of us are on a solo course

Details | Sonnet | |

Thorn Patch

Into the plush fields they went just smiling Laughing their way down the hills and diving Into the weeds and flowers alike, soft Cushion like forms allow for one aloft Even through their fun, some pain enveloped Thorns found Sally’s side, bleeding developed Her friend ran to her, offered her support Sally’s eyes cried with pain was their report After they told their parents of their day They knew their exploits weren’t over, no way Patched up and ready to go was Sally Her younger sister was always ready Where the prettiest flowers are, they know Away from the thorns, exploring they’ll go
Russell Sivey

Details | Sonnet | |


Fr. Christ said “I am the living bread that came down from heaven...

If anyone eats this bread

He will live forever

Who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, abides in Me and I in him"

Essential signs of Eucharistic Sacrament are wheat bread and grape wine

Communion with the Body and Blood of Fr. Christ increases the communicant’s union 
with the Lord God.

Receiving this sacrament strengthens the bonds of charity between the communicant and Fr. Christ

It also reinforces the unity of the Church as the mystical Body of Fr. Christ

The Church recommends the faithful to receive the Holy Communion at least once a year.

Fr. Christ Himself is present in the sacrament of the altar

He is to be honored with the worship adoration

To visit the Blessed Sacrament is a proof of gratitude

Expression of love

Duty of adoration toward Fr. Christ, Jesus our Lord

Written 09182012

Details | Sonnet | |

The girl isn't gone

her pains belong to her past
its sadness is her symphony
that sound is her secrecy
the past is prehistorical at last

her song her soul worthy
its intention heartfelt unharmful
that soundfield  is graceful
the past is just the past

her smile with grace and style
its depth a lived-through nutrition  
that essence her mission 
the past is fertile at last

despite and thanks to her past
she shows she's truly alive at last 

© Ellie Daphne

Details | Sonnet | |


MOTHER When all alone, quiet, and lost in thought, I see again the times when I was young. I smile for attention I often sought, Knowing if I was sad then you would come. You would dry the teardrops that then would flow, Be my bedside nurse on a restless night. A soothing word and I'd forget my woe, Consoled that you were not far from my sight. Your wrath confused me when I misbehaved, Never believing I was ever wrong. But now I see love through your stormy rage. With your wise words I have grown, oh so strong. So when I think of you, Mother and friend, All regrets are over, all sorrows end.

Details | Sonnet | |

My Romance with Coffee

what is it with coffee shops and romance?
when I first met my wife we drank coffee
there wasn’t a party we didn’t dance
as a boy wooed girls with Mister Softee

when I was single I drank more coffee
but I also smoked a lot back then too
and I looked like Jesus said Aunt Sophie
those days are long gone now I’m living true

I love ice coffee and coffee ice cream
don’t like instant coffee rather Singles
when I do drink coffee with milk no cream
instead of doughnuts we’re eating Pringle’s

coffee is the love of many I know
as for me that extra cup I’ll say no

Details | Sonnet | |


When she dreams of following streams,
of childlike castles in the sand,
with ancient pebbles in her hand,
seen through brown eyes that gleam.
As the tides leave tales untold,
she sits among the scattered shells.
The sea gulls sound like ocean bells. 
With sand too soft for her to hold.
She molds the dough into an art, 
and knows that it will fade away.
Like secret whispers in the dark,
yet still she builds it everyday. 
With girlfriend longing in her heart,
for sandcastles that will stay.

Details | Sonnet | |

Dysfunctional Life

I’m living in a dysfunctional home
this takes me back to my forgotten youth
No matter what I still feel I’m lonesome
and just like back than I’m still seeking truth

No doubt about it the holidays suck
Emotions are high and the need for cash
We wait anxiously for UPS truck
No doubt it’s probably nothing but trash

Sometimes good days come upon all of us
but good days are very slim in this house
because every day there’s always a fuss
Sometimes I wonder I’m good without spouse

The dysfunctional life last forever
but twelve steps programs are very clever

Details | Sonnet | |

Dirty Birdies

They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.

They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.

I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.

Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.

As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned 
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...

Details | Sonnet | |

Spirit of the Earth

Along the coasts and by the seas
There lived a man made of trees
His duty was of noble action
Protect the forest with great passion

His body was made of bark
Eyes so piercing and thoughts so dark
His realm of life was so sacred
But beings of flesh had invaded

Once so peaceful and now so angry
This guardian of life started to rampage
Killing men in their thousands 
Disease and insects brought plague and famine

Details | Sonnet | |

Original is Best

Tabasco is the sauce I’d rather use
have a Tabasco burger with mayo
or with Buffalo wings with any booze
that’s a big plus when you’re at a disco

it adds a zest to any food all day
Tabasco to me much more than hot sauce
it gives real flavor eating isn’t play
those other hot sauces give them a toss

I loved it ever since I was a boy
my dad called it hot sauce it’s Tabasco
those other sauces are just a decoy
for there will always be one Tabasco

Tabasco now has many new flavors
originals always my life savers

Details | Sonnet | |

The Pretence of Forgotten Innocence

The loss of innocence is quite harsh
The consequence is to drown in marsh
Better it is to forget such a task
When innocence turned sour in its flask!

The loss of innocence comes after the dark
Surely it leads on that way fools embark
Nor are the fools wise
Nor can they speak lies!

Yet, the bearers of the loss are hearty
Full of laughs, they love life with affinity
To forget that painful loss
To live a new life in the shoes of the boss!

A forgotten life, known as childhood
Forgotten or pretending to forget for their own good!

Details | Sonnet | |

Holiday Mishaps

The room looks over and starts to chuckle.
An oddly beautiful stream of cider
Erupting from the nose of my uncle.
Kids waiting for a Christmas night rider,

All hoping to finally see Saint Nick.
Aunty Mary stands up and starts to twirl,
Nigh knocking over a lamp, she stops quick,
And she instead flattens the nearest girl.

Family running to see if she is fine,
We end up running into each other.
Dinner’s done, I head for the starting line,
And I’m elbowed in the face by brother.

It wouldn’t be family, well I assume,
Lack a trip to the emergency room.

Details | Sonnet | |


The lips that kissed these tiled floors
now split to cough out damp clay dust.
Gathered in excited lungs, to build and mold forever more
under thatched roof of ripped canvas. Must

the strings that hold your heart in tune
be plucked free to dance upon the unknown noise.
That rings from peach sky mornings to hushed afternoon
in the sparrows song. Like the toys

that teach creation, Paintbrush’s whispering tongue
kisses white with every stroke. Scream
forth in colorful kindling that rung
your secrets in the wind, leaving dry lungs to dream

for knowledge as it seeps from tree rings,
the life sap frozen in amber wings.

Details | Sonnet | |

Just for you

I sing a song to you baby of mine. You’re dreaming of adorably sweet things. You safely rest on soft clouds as you lie, And angels hold you in their feathered wings. You’re new from Heaven and still have the scent That you have carried down to Earth to share. I wish you could speak of stories you know Of folks we loved who now await us there. My darling, in my arms you’re warm and safe. We rock slowly to a sweet melody. I’m so grateful to God that you’re the one He has so lovingly chosen for me. You will soon wake to find Mommy is near. Sleep little baby with nothing to fear.

Details | Sonnet | |

Holy Child School

pizzas and hoagies were my Friday treats
when I was going to Holy Child School
those treats made me healthy walking the streets
back then I was strong in faith not a fool

unfortunately it was long a go
and Holy Child School is not there today
for pizza and hoagie I won’t say no
after those lunches I wanted to stay

even those white box lunches weren’t that good
except that special day was lobster tail
those box lunches were watches I have stood	
since those Friday lunches I never fail

God bless you Sister Rene helped me out
back when I was just a little wee sprout

Details | Sonnet | |

Bliss from Heaven

Oh my, little missy, what a fortress you created
Topless blonde toddler on the sand feels emancipated
The smile that brightens her sweet face can’t be understated
The beach ball beside her lays on the soft beach inflated

Take my hand, oh little one, and please do not be afraid
Come out from your sandy fortress and in the water wade
Why, look, the tiny hermit crabs are marching in parade
And down the beach two older boys are selling lemonade

Innocent one, I pray that life holds happiness for you
The world sometimes seems very harsh, but I will see you through
How blessed I am to share your joy, but we’ll share sorrow too
And one day when you marry, I’ll cheerfully bid adieu

Childhood years spin by so fast, I savor every moment
Because I have no doubt the bliss you bring is heaven sent

Details | Sonnet | |


Heads close, one brunette and one tawny blonde, 

Prepubescent girls build a flannel sheet tent,

Towels and dreams pile on a crisping lawn,

Soon, loud giggles become luminescent.

Two peas in a pod and somewhat alike,

Wearing bright halter tops with cut off jeans,

Making waves in my pool, riding twin bikes,

Then diving between Teen Beat magazines.

Before boys and bands and our womanhood,

There were days of Kool Aid and flip flop feet,

We ruled yellow fields, tamed enchanted woods,

Neighbours staying cool, toying with the heat.

Measured weeks free from control or pretence,

Treasured, one summer of shared innocence.

* Written Aug 24, 2012

Details | Sonnet | |


She captivated my spirit long ago upon day we met.
Long golden hair that captivated my eyes in midday,
Her eyes of blue, gave me a vision upon eves set.
Lips that would whisper words, in a sweet way,

We became friends at first, talking, playing for hours.
Pledged we were to be married, when older we knew.
What of youths understanding of love, upon powers,
No expectations, innocence, buried without a clue.

Our first kiss, between the trees of our secret place,
Soft wind floating down from sky, our affection,
Clouds racing above, watching, hearts begin to race,
Time, both stood still and sped, in each direction,

Separation our destiny, never to allow our grace,
Torn away, now, captivated in recall of her face.

Written for contest by Laura Mckenzie

Details | Sonnet | |

'Twixt Grass and Oak

‘twixt grassy tuft and bark of ancient oak,
as silky dew collects in crystal pools,
the chosen eye may witness faery folk,
though must remember ne’er to break the rules.

An honour and a charm bestowed upon
a child, who secrets promises to keep;
as dreamland calls and daylight hours are gone,
bough’s silver dust is sprinkled in her sleep.

A passage safe, both to and from their land
of harebell hats and wings of filigree.
In twilight dawn their blessing is at hand,
to keep her safe wherever she may be.

If of her precious gift she speaks, alas
she’ll ne’er see fae again 'twixt oak and grass.

Details | Sonnet | |


For Herda & Wangugi

To become a man he has a difficult task:
he must be brave enough to kill a beast.
A tradition in his tribe, you may ask.
The boy is not fierce, strong, or fast in the least.

The boy has hardly a weapon, hand-made, and surely not a gun:
but a long stick with a sharpened tip, a spear.
This is the tradition, such hunting calls for a shun
from the village if the task is not complete, that is clear.

The lion is too fast, the boy cannot outrun it.
The boy must be silent; the lion is too strong,
and has spotted the boy, it picks up it's speed.
The boy was not careful; the lion too strong.

There is a stuggle, but the boy has killed the lion.
The boy is now a man in his village.

Details | Sonnet | |

A Simpler Time

In flooding storm canals across the way
  Street racing popsicle sticks end to end...
And later crawl under the house to play
  Till a spider or Jack Spania did descend.
What folly with Gabriel, Rochfords, and Clark,
  In the backyard or swinging up a tree
Till Monica called us in from the dark -
  And in the morrow more tomfoolery!
A boy was I - a lost age it does seem,
  On the Oval steps standing ten feet tall
Cheering my heroes in white - my dream team -
  Watching Carew, Hunte, Sobers, Lloyd, and Hall.
But my greatest heroes who I champion
Gave me dear Life and Love, and called me Son.


Growing up in Trinidad in the 1960s.
The "Oval" is Queens Park Oval - a cricket ground.
Jack Spania is a wasp.

May 1996

Details | Sonnet | |

Gone Too Far

That’s not my elephant, officer, though she is pink.
She is right in front of your vehicle sir, I think.
Not too big, but not too small, her name is Ella.
I would say she likes to carry her pink umbrella.
I bet those second graders can see her just fine.
Yes, officer, I bet that they never drank any wine.
So to say, she is not there, will start some fights.
So remember that my faith is in the bill of rights.
She dances so fine around, around over the lot.
Upon tips of her toes, she cannot smoke pot.
However, she can eat spaghetti, with meatballs hot,
She loves to slurp, and swing the noodles in trot.
Don’t you see her now, over on top of that car?
Well, sir, you’re under arrest, you’ve gone too far.

Written for

Sponsor Matt Caliri 
Contest Name That's Not My Elephant 

Details | Sonnet | |

Blue Range

On Diego Martin lowlands time passes
  Slowly with such dear fancy not yet dimmed:
Licking the sticky raw cane molasses,
  The pulp and juice of the plump tamarind.
Eating pomerac and julie mango,
  Toolum and sugar cake fast disappear!
Guava and sugar apple sweet for so -
  Sapodilla, soup sop, and pommecythere...
And in the fields to the tanagers' trill,
  Digging for topitambo in long grass:
Back in the Blue Range our basket to fill
  With Asis's wide toothless grin and cutlass.
These are the fruits of a time unmistook
When the old budding trees of youth are shook.


Blue Range was my mother's family stud 
farm when I was a child in Diego Martin 
On the island of Trinidad in the West Indies.

May 1996

Details | Sonnet | |


Gaze out to sea into that loud assail
  In our fright's strand on stormwatch to the south:
Heed the mighty whirlwind - its scything trail
  From Galleons Passage to Serpents Mouth.
See the bended trees on coconut row -
  The dark swell off the Gulf of Paria:
Let it sunder, let it rage, let it blow...
  The hour has come that we must tarry her!
When away are cattle jittery led,
  And heron, egret, crane, and frigate bird
Take flight for cover when all else have fled,
  Till a cockcrow at early dawn is heard.
When eerie is the billfish feeding ground
And missing are the pelicans stormbound.


Trinidad and Tobago

July 1996

Details | Sonnet | |

Age of Aquarius

A bell tolls, and to its peal I am bound,
  Out of slumber wakes a boy age fancy:
How my heart trembled to hearken its sound
  And gaze on your beauty, sweet Beverly.
You lived on Onslow where I did follow;
  Sat beside at your desk I longed to be
While treading leaves home on Eden's hollow -
  But sat my nemesis, sweet Beverly.
Those rosebud lips, that smile, your Gypsy eyes,
  Rushed my pulse to farthest extremity:
When blameless hearts divide and virtue dies,
  Lost are the days of us, sweet Beverly.
Its forgetting had for a long age slowed
My racing broken heart on Valley Road.


For Beverly: my first love - I was 9 years old.
Mt Eden Normal Primary School in Auckland,
New Zealand: circa 1969 - 1971.

November 1992

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Birth to Sonnets

at birth was diamond in mom and dad’s eyes
fourth grade through sixth grade I was a joker
it’s true in this life I have had some sighs
my time in the navy heavy smoker

all the women in my life should be queens
I know perfection can never be found
never shared my heart in my teens
after thirty years I made a rebound

my wife would sometimes call me an old maid
because of my slow off-balance movements
never saw action so I’m underpaid
today my life has many improvements

I love writing sonnets I’m no Shakespeare 
in a way it makes my life pretty clear

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Amidst Heavy rains

Amidst the heavy rains,standing here I'm,
Holding my hands together ,hoping to be fine.

Walking through the streets ,repenting upon the past,
thinking what to do next,and when did I smile last.

Nothing seems to strike,nothing going my way,
however hard i try,no use of what I say.

To whom shall I show, the scars of my life,
the pain of which ,increases my strife.

I have reached a stage ,at which I can't turn back,
to fulfill my wishes which my life lack.

Now I wish sometimes,I still had been a boy,
to be loved by everyone,filled every moment with joy.

But time and again,reality comes back to me,
and amidst heavy rains I'm again on a crying spree.

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In the Meadow

The Devil's Hold

Into the devils hands you placed my infant form
with blind eyes and untutored minds you left.
The caterwauls of baby rang like an eerie storm
for the eve's respite you sought was paid a high tariff.

Memory, so kind and long gone, without redress
lays in ashes buried in the wavering wash of time
But, decades of snickering comments coalesce 
making the adult children wonder at their crime.

Marred, scarred, scared and one too many times undressed
the ramming cat, the rutting dog, pointed allusions
The negligence of  youthful parents never confessed
leaves Magdalene's curse, a cost not of your choosing.

Raise the tarry brush of hell and paint their damned souls,
far too many have fell within the Devil's hold.           

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Echoing abuse

His words concealed a life so full of lies
His hand was soft which held her gentle palm
She raised her head and looked into his eyes
Without a twitch he played her heart with calm

He knew the signs the ways to find his prey
He’d showed his smile and hid his means to harm
It was for him a laugh a game to play
Where he portrayed a mask with grace and charm 

From young till now with ease she chose wrong men 
And then she’d fight to keep her man in vain 
She craved their rage became the nagging hen
It seemed as if she aimed to live with pain

Dad hid mum and he found a mum to hit
Mum loved dad and she was treated like sh*t

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Rest Your Cheek

Rest your cheek on pillowed down
The softest kiss erase thy little frown
Safe in evenings lovely dream
In your fist, moon's tender beam

Rest you cheek on pillowed down
Dance with fairies in sparkled gown
Hear the language of  gentle breeze
Serenading the waltzing willow trees 

Rest your cheek on pillowed down
Your silken hair a golden  crown
Safe in the arms of mother's love
And the watchful eye of God above

Fox is in his den and the dove his cote
Sail away now in your cloud born boat

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A Limited View

In youth, I often played with trees
And let myself float along the breeze
I’d pick the flowers and pull the grass
And watch as hours slowly passed

In adolescence, I took up pen
And wrote down all that troubled me then
I hardly ever wandered outside
Unless I noticed the rain - and sighed

Now in adulthood, I sit and wait
For happiness to replace my hate
I hardly know what it’s like anymore to see
The proudly standing cedar tree

Instead of enjoying the moments few,
I let my life become more a limited view.

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Sonnet 1

Love taketh my heart and soul
    it recaptured my trust
never again shall I stand sole
    for your love, is lust
I learned not to love
   Thy heart cast melancholy melodies inside
Thy love is love that is only loved by the man above
   For love isn't a vied
My heart seems to haste
   yet I suffered
Unquestionably your love can be replaced
   When love comes to push and shove, I defer
As lies come across my ears
   As much as my pulverized heart been through
I learned to put off love as it corker, belittlement, and depressed me for years
   Thy heart day by day grew

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Death, His Friend He Must Embrace

Back bent,
Spine protruding from withered figure,
His face a creeping shadow,
Scattering, revealing pale ghost beneath,
Breathing eerier croaks from dark fathoms within,
Lips parched,
A bumpy mess of scales,
His eyes dug deep within the shrivels of his face,
Reflecting with joy his distant youth,
Quivering lost paper in wind,
As those lips part one final time,
No one listens to his great last words,
Expecting him to quietly slip away with grace,
Death his friend he must embrace. 

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Midsummer days

midsummer days evoke the trancelike past
where children played in joyous, daisied fields
with buttercups so bright the memory lasts
a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.

those stones and leaves and many coloured flowers
were gathered into images that glow
yet later we forget those treasured hours
when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow

we did not look and see,but felt at one
we lived as did the birds high in the trees
now we see and write yet experiencing has gone
we no longer live like flowers filled with bees

to lose ourselves in nature is a joy
which to our adult selves we must restore

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The opaque house on the prairy

no one ever noticed the concealed walls
took notice of the hidden windows or doors
while occupants occasionally ran through the halls
during the absence of the ruling corps

invisible the freezing cold and immense loneliness
tucked far away in the children's mind and memories
unheard the always present artificial covers of kindness
spectators impossible to blame for their blindness

visible volcanoes filled with long term feelings
her tears released during the midst of dark nights
reborn youngster of heart going beyond the ceilings
now courageous to live on top of the New Heights

torn down and demolished those terrible walls 
rising  gloriously with the wisdom of conquered falls 

(c) Elly Wouterse

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Ode to Arizona on a Hot Summer's Day

Ode to Arizona on a
Hot Summer's Day
Written by Adam M.

Oh sweltering is
summer's day of
So hot the desert's
kiss from sun above.
And sweat that drops
cause me to
reminisce -
the past, a summer's
day a child would

A playtime in a
grassy field of
and from a hose the
water cool and free;
oh such a joy is
this midsummer's
the children's
laughter flows in
joyful spree.

I wish that day
would greet me just
once more,
The joy of feeling
free on summer's
Instead I am
confined to cool
Upon my laptop
typing verse to

Midsummer's Day you
make me such a fool
I fear your heat
will be forever

Details | Sonnet | |

My Darkest Childhood Memory

My void is the darkest penetration of childhood.
No memory at all before age of six so fair.
Thine memories might have been bad or good.
Mine has no glimpses, or comparison to share.
Thou shall say this may be a blessing so sweet.
Though my mind has no distinct recall to meet,
No shape of any kind, only fantasy for retreat.
Whilst I travel onward, I am lost in defeat.
My darkest childhood memory is none at all.
Mystery of things I have missed or recall.
I live on in the shadows that make me whole.
I waver on the balance of what does console.
This mind and soul with a spirit that will seek,
Diligently answers for future, my past is weak.

Written for

Sponsor Walayee Whitlock 
Contest Name My Darkest Childhood Memory 

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I slipped into my seat without a sound
A broken radio- I can’t tune in
No one cares to turn their head around
I try to speak, but somehow can’t begin

I’m on a different frequency, alone
Try as I might I can not make a sound
A never-ending piercing dial tone
Still no one ever turns their seat around

I use my words to write down what could be
My written self can leap and scream and bound
I hold her up, so hoping they would see
But no one ever turns to look around

I slipped into my seat without a sound
Because I know no one will turn around

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On refracted wings, of multiple hue
In liberation, two butterflies flew
Leaving behind the cocoons, that they knew
Restricted their flight as in pain they grew

Many were the days that had left them blue
Darkened caverns they’d been driven into
Suffering from cold angry winds that blew
For reasons they’d often not have a clue

And now, as imago, they live anew
Forgetting their past and all they’d been through
No longer restricted in what they do
No longer afraid of where they fly to

They fly for honesty and all that’s true
And now the cobwebs may blow away too ~

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Fidalgo Island

Fidalgo Island
'All grown-ups were once children...but only few of them remember it.' – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in The Little Prince
When we were kids, we agreed that Guemes and Cypress looked like a boa digesting an elephant on some days, and on others when the fog would roll in, the Loch Ness. On the worn crumbled steps of the amphitheater, we gazed at the horizon dotted with islands, sails and orca fins and breathed in the air of moss-cedar damp and sea spray, as time disappeared into campfire smoke and whispering wind. But as the years rolled by we forgot about Fidalgo Bay. We traded fog horns and seagulls for honking cars and whining motor bikes, the salty breeze for an asphalt mirage that reminds us of the mirrored surface of calm seas, the shining waves around the boa and the elephant we left behind. Someday, when our backs are hunched and our legs need a cane, we’ll go back to a time of gray mists and steady rain.

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Diversities Happy Home/ Monroe, CT USA

Perhaps, it would be Rockwell’s second choice
for my happy home has many different voices.
All around a small man-made lake they walk
proud American’s, multi lingual, they talk…

A maple forest with sweet pine blessing
Whites and Asians, Indians, caressing.
Lovers from all of the many nations
in my park find, content, contemplation.

Children of all colors play like sweet bits
and each and every Grannie watching, sits.
The American dream a joyous reality
a warm, loving place has risen here, free.

So, let new artists and artisans arise to portray
the bountiful beauty of each towns diversity!

Details | Sonnet | |

Down In The Wet Land

On mornings as cold inside as out__burr
She knelt__held a match against fat lighterd
For she knew that this was required of her
The fire would smoke, sputter__soon blaze occured

Spreading rapidly engulfing the wood
Seemed like a miracle from where I stood
How she went on from year to  year__question
What could she have been in better situation

She would blow the spark that ignited flames
Fire would glow as did her small meager life
But from her life a blaze planted__child tame
Who would write of her hardships being wife

And how she would teach where the Sweet Shurbs grow
Down in the wet land beside the road
(How to appreciate corn bread, buttermilk, and butter cold.)

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Dream So Sweet

Close your eyes sleep tonight
Dream so sweet, dream delight,
Let your eyes, close so tight.
Imagine joy this peaceful night.
Lay so still, have no sight.
Do not peek; sleep so right.
Close your eyes, my little one.
Sleep so tight, rest has won.
Dream, dream, dream blissfully.
Now my darling, you’re asleep.
In the morning, awake wonderfully.
Promising you, your dream to keep
Sleep, sleep, restfully my dear,
Your protector, I’ll be so sincere.

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Labyrinthine Simplicities

Don’t misconceive my mercy for weakness
Exponent to impuissance that bestows
Ascertain verity of Uniqueness
Appreciate my pose of apropos

Strength my forte led by capriciousness
I once shattered and left to be consumed
Thy inner voice pierces my graciousness
Amidst the flightiness presence presumed 

I am semblance of authenticity
Your erroneous conclusions expressed
Trapped in mirrors of your duplicity
It is not I who is too dispossessed 

My force is life, full of joys and treasures
Multiplied faithfully, basked in pleasures

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A place to grow

Deep in the forest, in an airy glade
Majestic in form, away from the shade
And hidden from view by a holly cloak
Maybe still stands a solitary oak

A childhood haven that I used to know
A place for dreaming and a place to grow
With pencil and notebook I’d sit and write
From early morn ‘til the night stole the light

Those were the days when my friends were the trees
Where I learned to climb and to skin my knees
It was there that I formed my bond with words
Wrote poems of mountains and lakes and birds

Now I’m a man, and my words have grown too
I write about love and friendship and you ~

Details | Sonnet | |


Alongside a Chiltern chalkstream
I lay me down to dream,
of country paths,stiles and steep slopes,
those days,long ago,filled with hope;
I dreamed of days of summer sun
when my life had just begun,
climbing trees,cricket on the green,
the first time I made the school team;
Football with coats and tennis ball,
bonfire night fireworks in the Fall,
carol singing through silent streets,
paper chains and Christmas treats.

Crystal clear,vision's backward gaze
brought forth from nostalgia's haze.

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Memoir of a Ghost Town

Rickety shelters at the base of majestic peaks
Nestled here, memories of winters long and cold.
Miners searching treasures, precious silver and gold.
Ghost towns whisper what it is they seek.
Misty clouds linger near jagged, unyielding terrain
Haunting, this sanctuary of aged wood and rusted tin.
Below cracked floorboards, marmots scurry in
As miner's picks echo in the pounding rain.
This place, a souvenir of abandoned dreams
Fragments once buried deep like old bones.
Colored glass litters the ground. It seems
Hard rockers were not always alone.
Remains of a china doll all dirty and worn
To this rugged place a miner's daughter was born.

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When I was young,in summer sun
the excitement of life,just begun,
hours seemed like days, and days
by brooklets,still,we lazed;
When I was young,in poverty
simple pleasures were had ,for free
improvisation was our key,
for sport,fishing or climbing tree;
When I was young,before tv
books and radio were for me,
putting a face to voice and place
the birth of creativity.

Frugal times,spent so close to home
sans shopping malls and telephone

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I'll always remember Granpa Shreeve
At Eaton Road,where he & Gran dwelt;
A wide thick buckled trouser belt,
No collar,braces & rolledup shirt sleeve.

He kept hens at the bottom of his patch
His old soldier' straight back bent in  a stoop,
Collecting eggs from his home-made coop,
Each day letting them out to root & scratch.

Organically grown,fed as range free
A pullet killed as a Christmas treat
Plucking feathers,a now forgotten feat,
Each day,a fresh egg for breakfast or tea.

Old fashioned and a bit of a tartar
His ways made Gran into a domestic martyr.

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Window Pain

The soggy sky cascades its whirling woe
and dyes my view with shades of stormy mass.
Despite the rabid wind's relentless flow,
I wait for you behind this clouded glass.

My older siblings do not seem to care;
their hearts lie firmly locked in worldly lust.
Remote controls and tools for tattered hair,
they wield with skillful hands; but wait I must.

You kissed me on my brow before you left;
I still remember what you said to me:
"Take care my little one and still your breath.
I'll be back soon; just wait here patiently."

Oh hurry home; your presence keeps me sane!
I can't see past this wretched window pain!

Details | Sonnet | |

A Life Gain

One day will come, when you will rise,
Don’t be afraid to fight, you need a long life,
One day when you be a father and have a wife,
You will understand that how a dying man was wise.
He was worry about a child nobody heard his cries,
He was honest and hardworker, cared for his family,
He has kind hearted also his partner was lovely,
He has struggle full life for his family highs.

Don’t try to cheat one, live with only pace,
Don’t exploit anyone, understand everyone’s pain,
A satisfied person has sound seep that is my grace,
Don’t abuse someone’s right it is a life gain,
Don’t suck the blood of innocents walk slow or join race,
Oneday life is ended care about living death is certain.

Details | Sonnet | |

Opening Day

Banners swayed to the shimmy, of sprouting springtime rays
As lime lines hugged emerald fields, on America’s favorite day
Youthful faces peaked above leather gloves, of inherited family fun
Sheets of sunshine spilled over ivy walls, of towering home runs

Children cheered the names of heroes, that shadows had crept behind
As old men dawned the numbers of legends, still playing in their mind
Cracker Jacks crunched as hungry eyes, devoured the diamond’s glare
The words “Play Ball!” echoed with the luster, of a rekindled love affair

One crack of the bat, broke a winter long season of seamless strife
As a scorched line drive, was driven into the hope of every fan’s life
A single was stretched into a double, beneath the roar of the crowd
Players dusted off pennant dreams, that slid between the clouds

Opening Day had come and gone, fly balls faded deep into night 
But the Boys of Summer will play forever, in memories of delight

Details | Sonnet | |

Third Best

Everyone’s heard the line of being second best
My scenario is different; I’m third in this contest 
The contest of affection from our parents as we grew
Competition of siblings; conclusion too painful to pursue

The winner hands down is the youngest child residing in this roost
No responsibility for his actions, yet an approving constant boost
Baby and cherish him, for he’s the focus of this competitive scene
Always taking whatever he wants, a daily addictive routine

Second place is the oldest; the perfect child he’s portrayed
An empathetic serene individual, a respectful triumphant crusade 
By no means doing any wrongs; his mind completely in tact
A confidant rational being; always causing the most immaculate impact

Coming in last; the loser is here with problems too many to bare
The third best child, invisibly seen; always in constant despair
I love being the loser if that’s what you ultimately see in me to be 
For I know the contest was already judged, long before you recognized me 

© Stacy Lynn Stiles