Couplet Childhood Poems

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

The poem(s) are below...

Details | Couplet |

The old man sat with eyes closed, dozing in his chair
Until a little voice he heard say “Grandpa, are you there”.

He gazed upon a little boy while waking from his nap
Then reached down with a sweeping move and placed him in his lap

The child was carrying a book that he wanted him to see
He held it up and  asked him “Grandpa, will you read to me”?

The old man cleaned his glasses then opened up the book
And suddenly the two of them a wonderous journey took

They ventured lands so far away, sailed seas not sailed before
Met knights and kings and wizards on every distant shore.

Together they fought dragons, saved damsels in distress
Freeing lands of monsters and the treasures they possess

When the old man closed the cover to end their magic ride
He told the boy “We're much like books, what's important is inside”.

But one day when the boy arrived and rushed to Grandpas chair
Much to his disappointment, his Grandpa was not there

He ran to find his mother for surely she would know
Why the chair was empty, where did his Grandpa go

She sat him down and asked him if he remembered in each book
The adventures and the journeys that he and Grandpa took

He took you there to show you the things that you can find
The wonders that are yours to see if you open up your mind.

But he still walks beside you in the stories you have read
You're not left to go alone, he’s just gone on ahead

The child then went and chose a book and climbed up in the chair
And opening up the cover whispered “Grandpa, are you there”?

Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
She Calls Me Home…

At days long end
Left on troubles shore
When I just know
I can't take anymore
When the last light
Of hope is gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

When my thoughts
Are racing round
And I can't find
A friend in this town
When every door
Has turned out wrong

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home

When the dark
Won't give up light
When the wrong
Outscores the right
When the noise
Outdoes the song

She calls me home
She calls me home

When the clouds
Won't seem to break
And the sky
Just seems to ache
And the sun's
Completely gone

She calls me home
She calls me home

She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face

Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home

Copyright © James Burns | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
It's hard to describe
that true sense of pride

that comes with the worth
of your babies birth

A child takes your heart
right from the start

and wills you to sow
a love destined to grow

From dress ups to cupcakes
from boo-boos to heartbreaks

it's all worth the pain
from the treasure we gain

Time spent together
can only be measured

in memories we hold 
as part of our soul

God keep this life
from turmoil and strife

give it love and care
and blessings to share

For all that we ask
is that we're up to the task

and do all that we must
to honor your trust.

Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |
Father’s bare feet left footprints in the sand
Young son followed, each step carefully planned

Tim wanted so much to be like his Dad
Always emulating, quite a sweet lad

So as you leave impressions on life’s shore
Remember your path will not be ignored

Tread gently, leave prints that make your kids proud
Step far away from the perilous crowd

Stop at times, build sandcastles, pick up shells
Memories can’t be erased by sea swells

Imprints on children’s hearts last forever
Keep this in mind through every endeavor

A child may be following your footsteps
Always make your marks with loving precepts

*Entry for Francine's "Barefoot" contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
My parents said I could not keep the black, stray cat.
They explained our canary would not survive that.

Parents out, a sitter, and my four-year-old mind
Let the cat in and hoped for the best in due time.

I am ashamed to have plotted murder when four,
Sad an innocent bird died cause I liked cats more.

The whole family loved that sweet cat, “Little Bit”,
Plus, I promise, I have planned no other death hit.

For those readers who are curious; yes, the person I was at four did this, but if it is any consolation, the adult in me still carries ripples from that child's act which stemmed from 'her' belief that boring equaled a lack of body/emotion feelings!

... CayCay Jennings
February 24, 2016

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
 Now in my decline in the time of men
  I remember way back then when I was ten,
 when we lived in a shadow much greater
  at the foot of the Mount and its dormant crater.
 Where we'd climb and to the top race
  like Hillary and Tenzing up the south face,
 then on our backsides slide to the rocks below
  from whence the lava used to flow.
 Behold the old white house at 89 Owens Road,
  the grass I with an old push blade mowed,
 and where from my upstairs room
  I saw the spring terraced flowers bloom.
 Where outside we played cricket all summer long
  and inside were the masters of ping pong!
 In our living room my family and me
  saw a moonlanding and a war on TV -
 on our black and white set with blazin' toy guns
  watching Bonanza and My Three Sons...
 or perchance playing canasta as soon as I was able
  and even a séance on the coffee table,
 where spirits from the spirit world did roam
  and truly spelled out to our guests "go home!".
 When my birthday cake burnt ten candles
  and I wore short pants and Roman sandals,
 with my bag down Valley Road walking
  past the shops on the way to school talking -
 spending my lunch money licking my lips
  eating aniseed wheels and jelly tips!
 Where my mate lived above his mum's shoe store
  and between us all was fair in love and war!
 Listening to my new transistor all the while
  tuned in to 1480 on top of the dial:
 to the hip happening sounds of Radio Hauraki
  in the gulf on a pirate ship called Tiri.
 Till through the gates of my teacher and jailer:
  Mrs Furner, Miss Gaiqui, and Mr Taylor;
 and catch a glimpse of a vision in a cotton dress -
  the girl of my restless dreams I confess!
 Then before the bell sounded its morning ring
  we'd be flying on the moari swing,
 or games on the courts or running to shield
  playing bullrush on the football field.
 And behold, in class on his guitar my teacher
  playing folk songs and exhorting like a preacher,
 singing "where have all the flowers gone?
  Young girls pick them every one..."
 and "Oma rapeti...rabbit run, run, run"
  or playing Maori stick games just having fun:
 drawing native carvings and birds that can't fly,
  reading about Hinemoa and Tutanekai.
 Weaving flax and with hands of string
  making diamonds and parachutes that cling,
 or in single file marching from the school
  with our towel and togs to the pool -
 an Eden boy at the starters end ready to dive in
  for a prized 50 metre certificate to win.
 Then gather the class in the projection room
  and gaze in the ceiling the stars illume:
 where our Milky Way mural hung so surreal
  as we sat and watched an old movie reel.
 But soon the fun would turn to palpable fear
  when all the class trembled to hear...
 read to the children who were quiet as a mouse
  was the Dental List for the Murder House!
 Alas a fate worse than death - the whining drill
  to bore and clean and to mercury fill;
 where the needle sometimes dulled the pain
  yet the screams of boys and girls remain.
 After school in my uniform arrayed
  I marched to the tune in the Boys Brigade!
 And on weekends roaming the neighbourhood
  in search of adventure as best we could,
 climbing the hill to the construction site
  of The Pines apartments at a great height.
 On Guy Fawkes night from my pocket
  lighting my firecrackers and my skyrocket -
 armed and dangerous ready to throw
  with red packs of Double Happys lit to blow.
 And on night time mission on ninja patrol
  detonatin' milk bottles - whoa! fire in the hole!
 Or off to the Crystal Palace to catch a flick
  lest my mother test my arithmetic.
 At Eden Park when the mighty Auks played host
  sitting with my mates behind the goalpost,
 with my dad and brother at the track
  in the birdcage and hearing the whips crack -
 at Ellerslie in the Ladies Stand or Alexandra Park
  with my Best Bets - my picks to mark.
 And on the Sabbath beneath cross and spires
  in Sunday School at old Greyfriars.
 Now alas, in my decline in the time of men
  I remember way back then when I was ten!

                    January 2016

For the Way Back Then When I Was Ten contest.

Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
A Child’s View of Death

People say now that Grandpa was thin
But he had plump cheeks; cancer had set in 

Each Sunday penny candy in my hand he’d place
And with rugged hands he’d embrace my face

To an impetuous toddler, his cigars smelled foul
But I don’t remember him ever sporting a scowl

On the way to mass my hand he’d squeeze
And no one ever mentioned his disease

But I’ll not forget the way mama cried
When she hugged me and said Grandpa had died

Though yellow tulips bloomed outside
I entered that parlor where emotions ran high

Grandpa looked peaceful, like he was asleep
I walked softly toward him, not making a peep

Where was that smile I’d come to expect
Not one movement could I detect

It can cause harm taking preschoolers to funerals
Death viewings can be the most frightening rituals

Fear lingered for months as I dreamt of him
Lying in a coffin, his skin cold and face grim

Children should remember those who have passed
Alive and happy, the way they’d seen them last

A fear of death plagued me for many years
I couldn’t accept that good people disappear

From our lives, to be buried in the ground
In thoughts of this loss, my spirits drowned

It wasn’t till later I realized the eternal life of souls
And that in both forms of life, we each have our roles

Be sure to tell little ones of God’s special home
And how our deceased loved ones sit by His throne

In coming to terms with this revelation
I learned to see death as a new life’s creation

*For Lay's "Darkest Childhood Memory" Challenge

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
I took a walk down Columbia Street
Back to the place where we used to meet
Where we played as kids until after dark
And hung out together up at Dutch Hill Park
Although alone, I could hear the sound
Of laughter coming from the merry go round
Sometimes we'd meet there in the early dawn
The dance hall, pavilion and the swings are gone
I saw those pine trees and I thought of you
And all the crazy things we used to do
Like sleeping out underneath the stars
Hanging upside down from the monkey bars
A swing made from  a rope and an old tire
We baked potatoes on an open fire
Squirrel nut zippers and an RC coke
Transistor radio and we'd have a smoke
We walked in the woods and we climbed some trees
We scratched our faces and we skinned our knees
Never dreaming that it would ever end
If I could, I'd do it all again my friend
Those memories I have will never part
I carry Dutch Hill Park inside my heart
And all those memories of yesteryear
Heading back home now I shed a tear.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
The pendulum motions to and fro,
From the clock upon the wall.
As the second ebb like grains of sand,
For one by one they fall.

Through the window of the dim lit room,
For outside, lies a world of grey,
For thoughts now turn to yester year,
That seems so far away.

With freckle on skin and golden hair,
Topped with lace like bonnet fair.
Upon a face a smile of glee,
As little feet splash in the sea.

A bucket clenched in fingers tight,
With spade to match its colors bright.
 In awe and wonder of many things,
 Through eyes so young that new life brings.

  N  Windle.   MMXI.

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2011

Details | Couplet |
Impressionable young hearts do tell the grandest lies
When learned from grandfathers with sparkling eyes
Grandfathers living renewed through the breath of a grandchild

Oh grandfathers’ whoppers told in all kindness and glory
The bigger the whopper makes the child’s lies the cute little story
Thus the grandchild’s faith breeching walls of reasonable reality 
Simply because beloved grandfather had told the story
My grandfather said it was so- tiny voice of pledged belief
And I believe him -for grandfather would never lie to me

So sleep little one- dream the telling’s of funny grandfathers beloved
For their little lies to you are meant to not make you a worried
But make you believe in the impossibilities of grandeur and extravagance 
There is a Santa Clause
The fish really was so big it couldn’t fit in the boat
I wrestled a grizzly when I was just about your age

For in the telling of such blessed little lies
A remembrance of grandfather will never die
The wisdom and laughter thus remembered in each time’s telling
Will warm you over and over- as little lies do you begin the telling 

Copyright © Mark Goodson | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
I was young and innocent and I only had eyes for you You were my constant companion the whole day through But you fell into a puddle and mum hurried you away I was oh so sad, I cried and cried so much that day I found you hiding from me, high up on the washing line Pegged up by your ears, but my teddy now looked fine When I look through old photos its plain for all to see ‘Lying on teddy’ you really meant the world to me 21st June 2015 Penned after looking through old photos of me from aged about two My teddy bear was called lying on teddy because I used to lie on him in my sleep and he went from a cuddly round bear to a flat bear

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |
We were replacing burned out outside light 
bulbs at clubhouse. A wasp had built a nest 
in the top of one of them. Two wasps bit my 
thumb and it swelled all up. Here is my poem
related to this incident.

Willy the Wasp

There once was a wasp whose name was Willy
And some people thought he was really silly
Fluttering in between humming bird feeders
Thinking his food was measured by meters.

Had been some things unbeknownst to me
Where would Willy the Wasp possibly be
Some say after he had heard nature calling
Started playing around with all the pollen.

Willy would distribute it here and there
And ended up all over and everywhere
Results of his efforts had made much room
For fragrant flowers who wanted to bloom.

After all of Willy's history we would inspect
He helps keeping control of a certain insect,
And when you like us find yourself frugal
Can find insect name through use of Google.

Jim Horn

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |
Sweet cradled child, you slumber so
with gentle breathings, soft and slow

  The love I feel I cannot speak
  or tears would glaze upon my cheek

    I hold you close beneath the pane
    The night outside, it whispers rain

      The clouds drift by, one star that shines
      upon your face, as moonlight finds

        a face so graced by angel wings
        pink cheeks and eyelash flutterings

          Dream, sweet one, of magic lands
          Now, while you sleep, you grasp my hand

            Your tiny fist, hangs on to me
            I pray your world will always be

              a gentle place, that watches thee
              Do you dream of open seas

                Or sail on clouds and over trees
                through meadows like a soothing breeze?

                  If clouds arise to darken skies
                  may the angel eyes watch over you

                    I'll keep you safe in tender ways
                    till the sun comes back another day

                       So sleep my babe, I'll hold you tight
                       I'll sing this song for you tonight...


For Contest Sponsored By Laura Loo

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008

Details | Couplet |
Good morning, good morning, girls and boys
I hope you brought your Disney toys

Gather round in a circle close
Lets sing about the ones we love the most

Mickey, Mickey, your so cute and small
We love you the best of all

Donald Duck with his ducklings three
Dressed the same are his family

     Children, children wave your hands
     Close you eyes we're in Disney Land

Pluto, Pluto your silly and daft
You sure do make us laugh

It's time to count, lets have some fun
The Seven Dwarfs, seven back to one

     Children, children wave your hands
     Close you eyes we're in Disney Land

Dumbo flaps his ears and flies
Pinocchio's nose grows telling silly lies

Let all skip to Wonderland
Holding Alice's hands, going hand in hand

     Children, children wave your hands
     Close you eyes we're in Disney Land

     Children, children wave your hands
     Close you eyes we're in Disney Land

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.

I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.

Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.

Beside me standing hand-in-hand, an older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.

I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.

But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.

I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.

A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.

This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.

I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.

The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.

An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.

Copyright © Elaine Ho | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
Before her Auntie died she built her a big sandbox, I remember her sitting there with long curly brown locks. The sun in her face with an innocent smile so bright, she’d stay out there playing morning, noon and night. She had little tractors and buckets with tiny figurines, she’d make sand castles then stomp on them to smithereens. This one time she built a fort for her favorite Little People, a huge monstrosity with a long bridge and a steeple. She reached the age of eight and still loved her sandbox, she used her imagination through the summer equinox. Silly little girl with big brown eyes so enthralled, but after Auntie died she just sat in it and bawled. Now at tender age of ten we still keep it in the back yard, once and awhile she sifts through the sand, but it’s quite hard. But yesterday I saw her feet deep in the sand buried, playing in that special sandbox lovely memories are carried. Sandbox Contest October 14, 2016

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
Chinks of blue play peek a boo ,
Among the snow pearls of gray .
Stained glass windows to the heavens above ,
Upon this winters day.

Snow flakes in a frenzy fall ,
So delicate as fine lace.
In caressed like dreamy kisses,
Tickle hands and face.

Scarlet are the berries bright,
Against leaves of emerald green.
In sharp contrast against the snow,
Upon this winter scene.

For time draws near for tonight the eve,
When Santa drives his sleigh.
And those of us, who still believe,
Gives praise for Christmas day.

In a momentary silence,
I look to the sky this night.
In a thought of three wise men,
And a star that was burning bright.

My heart still full of wonder,
Brought forth by festive cheer.
And in hopes of what tomorrow brings,
Will last again all year.

?  N Windle  2015

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |
       What do you
think of me now?

I hear you say what
a brat I am and how
I made you do it
the hits, the hurts,
the names you called
me-well, I lived
through it
When you came into
my room at night I
prayed I would
 but things have
changed a lot since
then, here’s
something you should

I carried my
troubles in a shirt
pocket that covered
my heart for years 
but now I share all
of my burdens to
alleviate my fears
I spent my life
feeling full of
shame but now I know
the truth
And your words that
used to sting so
quick are quite
suddenly mute 

I see with more than
eyes today and hear
with more than ears
I’ve learned that
bravery can be heard
in soft cries and
falling tears
I don’t pretend to
not need anyone
anymore, today I
know that I do 
I still struggle
with asking others
for help, my silence
I learned from you

I know I’m not those
names you called me,
I’m kind and funny
and smart
 A sweet little
girl, a beautiful
woman- with a
convalescing heart
I’m curiously
optimistic about the
life I choose to
You see I’m no
longer tortured by
revenge or aching

I dream as if dreams
aren’t silly at all
and hope to make a
I won’t let anyone
tell me who I am
anymore, so I offer
you my forgiveness
I don’t know where
you ended up or if
you found your way
but if you hear me
read this poem I’d
like to hear you say
-what do you think
of me now.

Copyright © Christine Costello | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |
Voice of the Storm

My grandmother said, “Be still. God’s speaking through the storm,”
as she went throughout to see if lights or TV was on.

The white glare was clue to how fortissimo he will speak.
Atomic flash sent you in hiding afraid to take a peek.

He was a kettle drum, a boisterous timpani from the sky,
and with reverberation, he commanded from on high.

Angrier, angrier and deeper were the rolls,
with each one’s vibration delving finer into souls.

His bark was often fearsome, as someone had done wrong,
and oh so still you’d sit if the reprimand was strong.

Twenty minutes or thirty was the duration of the scold.
When doors and windows rattled, you knew you’d been told.

Each time he was less mad and softer were his words,
soon moving far away, leaving sun and song of birds.

After all is said and done a rainbow bright appears,
a promise that God loves us and there is no need for fears.

A Perfect Storm

Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
Nightmares, shame, and despair---
You don't go anywhere.
All alone in your mind
even with someone by your side.

You think, "Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"
You thought the hint would be cutting off the phone.
But everyone wants you to release your cares.
The next thing you do is frown and ask, "Where?"

Stinkin' thinkin' is what your mom calls it.
Bad thoughts falling down a bottomless pit.
You wake up hoping those feelings disappear;
but, as usual they end up going nowhere.

You can't seem to get rid of the pain
and in your heart an eternal rain.
No one really knows how you feel
and you have friends that always ask, "What the deal?"

But tomorrow always comes.
Bad days for you, but good for some.
Disparaging words flow in and out of your head.
You're alive but you're living like you're dead!

They're like cobwebs in your mind
that you can't seen to bind.
The hurt is always there
which has always been your fear.

You don't see the destruction your thoughts have created.
Yet relationships were destroyed with the people you've dated.
You allowed your pain to take away time.
Your anger towards others has become the real crime.

It all boils down to that one thing in your past.
A terrible time that from your mind you've yet to cast.
The pain from the physical and spiritual rape
that rolled around in your head like an old videotape.

The abuser was like a father to you
and when it first happened there was nothing you could do.
You felt trapped like you could go nowhere.
His power over you was to instill that fear.

The "fear" is what's wrong
and you must discover another heart song.
Up to this point life hasn't been the best.
Maybe letting go of this is the next test.

There has always been someone that has loved you.
Someone who is capable of taking you through.
He's a Friend that sticks closer than a brother,
Jesus--- a Savior like no other!

If you don't give it to Him so you can thrive
you will plummet to the depths and never survive.

Copyright © Brandee Augustus | Year Posted 2009

Details | Couplet |
~~^~~ Our parents, they longed for you so... When you were born, their eyes they did glow. Another Prince amongst seven Flowers, You brought to them, so many happy hours. You were only twelve when our Mother passed away. I think the end began for you that day. None of us even realised you were in so much pain, Each one of us trying, our sanity, to regain. You found your solace in a dreaded white lady.. She took your soul and made your world crazy. For years you made our lives a living hell, You depended entirely on her, we could all tell. She quickly brought you down to her level, And you knew she was just as bad as the devil. This beautiful lady you call Ms. Cocaine... Has only brought you a life full of pain. It grieves us now to see you behind bars. To know you no longer see the stars. Not long after our Father went to his grave Hoping you'd escape this life as a slave. It is once again our hope and desire, That you would conquer this white fire, Make us proud again like you once did, And finally bottle up the White Lady and close the lid. ~~^~~

Copyright © Jenni Kalicharan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
The Great White Pumpkin
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

Ghostly Pumpkin dull and white 
Plans to give a ghastly fright.
Rough and tough his wrinkled skin
Mesmerizing twenty men.

Soon “Big Buddy” comes around.
Cuts a circle in his crown.
Jagged teeth and fearsome smile
Eyes and eyebrows carved in style.

Tasty innards scraped right out.
“Where's my nose?”  White Pumpkin shouts!
Come on partner night grows dark.
Time to start the candle's spark.

Glowing eyes on front porch steps
Watch young goblins full of pep.
“Trick-or-Treat” the children chime.
Great White Pumpkin sings in time.

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009

Details | Couplet |
I lived a life of sorrow and pain
     No rest for the weak, no hope of gain

A trapped soul and broken heart
     A lack of love from the start

A spark of hope hastily smothered
     A glimpse of light quickly covered

No choice in life but to cower in fear
     Forced to sit and drown in my tears

"Don't make a sound and don't talk back
     Do what you're told. Don't give us flack!"

I sink deeper in a pit of despair
     I cry inside, "this isn't fair!"

Then water couldn't dowse, sand couldn't smother
     A certain spark of truth in another

When the truth came out and the culprit was caught
     We finally let go of the lies we were taught

I escaped a life of lies and deceit
     Now it's up to me to stand on my feet

Now I start over... let go of the past
     A new life is mine... the old, outcast

Now I smile as joy floods my soul
     I know happiness now and my life feels whole

I've let go of my past. It's over and done
     But my future is bright like the shinning sun

Copyright © Eleonore Husted | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |
Dont despair that I dont miss you
  want to hold you
wait to kiss you
  I cant see you , I can feel you
with a heart line I can reel you
   Right back in just like the River
HOMOSASSA taker, giver
   In some light you flow beside me
seek to steer me, move me, guide me
    To a place I cant remember
Like a glowing, dying ember

    Of a time I cant recall 
But I know you have it all
     Saved on waves of long ago
Washed up somewhere I cant know
     Where each tide must rise and fall
Some Lagoon where nightbirds call
     Everyone sits 'round the glow
Waiting for someone to know
     How to read the map to find me
Even I am left behind me.

Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2005

Details | Couplet |
I must be the world’s most happiest little fella
as I watch the stormy sky’ neath a polka dot umbrella.

The sky is such a curious thing
I love it when I hear the raindrops sing.

In Sunday school I learned why
we have rainbows in the sky.

It’s great when all those colors near me stop
over my head it’s like a great big lollypop.

I used to get scared, but not no more
when I hear the thunder rumble and roar.

My mom told me when that noise begins
it’s just the angels knocking down bowling pins.

Sometimes I chuckle and laugh with glee
when the wind’s fingers start to tickle me.

I like when it’s sunny and I get to play
but even when it rains, I still have a good day.

I must be the world’s most happiest little fella
as I watch the stormy sky ‘neath a polka dot umbrella!

submitted for Red and White Polka Dot Umbrella Contest sponsored by Eve Roper

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |
Myrtle the Turtle

There once was a turtle named Myrtle.
She could speed through a maze and climb a hurdle.

While she was small, she was a friend to all.
And remained safe from a kitchen overhaul.

Years passed as she raced for many children.
Through mazes designed in childlike fashion.

Lined up building blocks, her corridor defined.
Faster than all the others, her speediness shined.

She heard cheering children as she plodded fast.
Quicker than lightening our childhood flew past.

Playing on the floor so much laughter roaring.
A turtle named Myrtle beget years of adoring.

But then the day came when she was big and fat.
Myrtle somehow disappeared; imagine that!

Fear and distraught brought a terrible rouse.
Frantically we searched running house to house.

Never discovered though we searched with quickstep.
Three children sat crying on their front porch step.

We thought she had been taken to become turtle soup!
It was a devastating day for the turtle-loving group.

Surprisingly, later, in a nearby pond 
Where a neighborhood boy with our playmate did abscond.

We saw Myrtle, our turtle, and her baby turtles, too.
She had escaped turtle soup and made freedom's debut.

© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |
I was fascinated by frogs, dinosaurs, and outer space.
Comic books, video games, and fast cars to race.

I got my clean clothes dirty and skinned my knees.
I spent my afternoons climbing high up in the trees.

Came home from the playground with shoes full of sand.
Went fishing, and held up my catch with my bare hand.

I would get on my rusty, blue bike and ride to the park.
Where we played games of tag or catch almost until dark.

After school, I would go play baseball with the boys.
Then, stay up late, listening to music and make noise.

My homework sat in my backpack and never got done.
I was too preoccupied with finding adventure and having fun.

I was the tomboy that liked building Lego block walls.
I was also a girl who played with pretty Barbie dolls.

Richard Lamoureux's Gender Bender Contest

Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |
Behind these gates lay quite the scene
So very surreal, yet not a dream

Beautiful headstones, manicured lawns
My God the memories this place spawns 

The winding road, first turn to the right
Back to the beginning of my plight

Stopping next to the second trail
My heart and head pound like hell

On the left eleven headstones away
Like a movie my memory starts to play

People gathered from all around
My mother knew everyone in town

At the time I was still unable to speak
My shattered psyche was far too weak

I stood there broken and full of fear
Ashamed I could shed not a single tear

Ashamed I could speak not a single word
Inside my head so many voices heard

What did those voices have too say
That’s another story for another day

Those gates now hold so many I love
Everyone I once held above

Last time I entered them I was 32
Even though those gates hold all of you

Next month I’ll go back and explain why
Tell my mother the reason I couldn’t cry

Apologize to her for being broken
Leave flowers, a poem, and my N.A. token

That way she will know without any doubt
What her little boy ended up being all about

That her little boy is not broken anymore
Overcoming adversity is what adversity is for

And one day when I’ve completed my fate
I’ll be looking for her, “Beyond the Gate”

The Shafter, California cemetery holds my mother, Grandparents, my cousin James and many
close friends. The last time I visited them was approx. 18 years ago. It’s very strange
that I received, “Beyond the Gates” as my topic, because; I’ve been planning this trip for
months now. If not for that fact I would have most likely written this poem about prison
gates. I reckon all things happen for a reason. Thank you Constance writing this poem has
given me strength to help me do what I plan to do. Go make amends to the person who gave
me life and taught me the things, which stuck with me through it all. My Grandparents
never lost hope in me and always said, "One day Mikey will remember the things we taught
him and return to the Lord." I think they will be proud of the man who comes to visit them
next month.

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010

Details | Couplet |
Wouldn't it be wonderful to wake up one morning
To find you were still a child
So much energy jumping up and down upon your bed
So many wonders and thoughts swirling through your bed
No responsibilities
Just fun and play with your dolls or swinging in the trees
Getting a dose of the measles having a poorly on your knee
looking at a catalogue at all the toys
Building a den and playing cowboys and Indians
With the other girls and boys
Dressing up in mummies clothes
catching frogs and picking your nose
Rolling down grassy hills and knowls
Going for summer walks with a bottle of lemonade
Pretending you are a solider standing on parade
Watching cartoons all day on TV
Having a pet to love and feed
Giving your teddy bear a hug
Collecting crawly things like slugs and bugs
Having a big bag of sweets giving a high five to every child that you meet
Having an imaginary friend called Fred
Bed time stories in your Jim Jams in bed
Pretending to be a pirate out at sea
Seeing strange faces in every tree
Licking the cake bowl after mummy makes a cake
Riding on your bicycle or on your roller skates
Reading books under the covers with a torch at night
Playing football flying a kite
Dreaming of becoming an astronaut a fireman and scientist too
having a great day out at the zoo
Playing children's games calling out rude names
Playing in the wood getting up to no good
Getting head Lice in your hair
Sitting in a high chair
Dancing like a loony at a party
Hating girls yuk! with their ribbons and their curls
Doctor Who Winnie the poo Sponge Bob
Larry the Lamb and Batman
and now I'm Superman!
Train set that gives your Farther who bough it  for you so much joy
Pink for a girl and blue for a boy
playing on the swings and slide
Bucket and spade making sand castles at the seaside
Everyone saying 'awe aren't you sweet'
Coco pops egg and toast soldiers to eat
Balloons floating high into the sky
your older sister hitting you and making you cry
Sitting on your potty
pacifier in your mouth
'Mummy I've done a poo'you shout
'Good boy I'll lift you out.
sitting in your pram Being pushed everywhere by your Mam
Going on a bus singing a little song
looking out the window and sticking out your tongue
Digging in the garden eating worms and soil
Having earache Pouring in olive oil
playing with your rubber duck and battleship
while your in the bath
reading your favourite comics and having a laugh
Asking lots of questions your parents find hard to answer
'Where do babies come from?' Having your leg in plaster
playing in the school yard playing hide and seek
Being poorly every week
new shoes happy feet holding mommy's hand and skipping down the street
Watching the fish swim around your fish tank
Putting pennies in your piggy bank
Ooh how my dipper must have stank
Ice cream and jelly tots uhhm I used to scoff the lot
playing a tree in a school play
Packing a suitcase and running away
throwing pebbles in a pond all day long.

Phew I'm shattered after al that. imagine doing all that now. the mere thought 
tires me out.

Peter Dome.copyright.2014.July.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |
It seems ages since we met over your long, golden hair
an hour glass on the table keeping the meter.

It seems like too many dress up doll days when we played
take me to the river but don’t get our feet wet.

It seems we lost our inner selves painting our faces
painting our nails, singing karaoke at the bars.

Oh, to regain those lost years of our youth, unwrinkled skin
turn back all the pages, like winding gold on a spindle.

Instead we have just leaves, grieves, and grandchildren
with their laser guns, plastic skin and smug attitudes.

They never challenged gamey little midgets with foul intent
they had us to pad them safely with money, love and scent.

Dear Rapunzel, do please let your hair down one more time
and play climb out of the cellar and up the apple tree with me.

Signed Your Dearest Play Mate.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013