Sonnet Child Poems

Nothing is more precious than a child's love,
knowing that it places its trust in you.
Their innocence is a gift from above,
and I, for one, believe...

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My dearest son, I hope you understand and know how much I love you.
Your Mom and me live to only see you
Before you were born...

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My wretched soul so twisted by self doubt,
malingered on false words and fragrant lie.
Through turbulence and ever-endless drought,
in hushed distress, my inner child did cry.
Yet...

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Coldest day yet, 'fore new bairn was christened,
mother's muse foretold as hearth embers failed.
Scripture held tight, she quietly listened,
as cradled creature withered, weeped, and wailed.

What...

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My love for you is deeper than the sea
That stretches far beyond the horizon
And sparkles with a thousand stars at night
You are the sun that...

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I sit with my feet touching the water
fascinated by a playful otter
near the river's edge, amid evergreens,
rolling along the sapphire surface sheens.

Swimming up and down...

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Honey-Child That Sweet-Spun Gift, You Don't Want To Miss

She cried, "Please write a sonnet that bites my butt"
Dear poet, I give you whiskey, my mouth...

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His dead body was lying on the sand.
Frigid, frigid waves appeared to bite his lips.
His pulse and breath stopped as he left his land.
The motion...

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When conflicts raise its ugly head real soon, 
our nations won’t inevitably swoon;
a time that real détente and peace attune.	
Some people still record the slights...

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I died when my mom died, too young to know, 
my dear nanny's sweet love sustained me then 
For three short years, she was my...

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Inside of me, there is another me
Observing, as I act upon life's stage
My mind is where he hangs his open cage
To him that is the...

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Oh how, I cry, disdain toward the word,
that gaslights sanity and truth defy.
When hapless, hopeless person, undeterred,
begs ask the question, of the victim, why?

Does thou...

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Thou wretched spot, thou churlish little knave,
canst thou in truth believe thine own deceit?
Engendered by thy lusts, thou art a slave,
ensconced by thy morality’s retreat.

Ye...

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What does she see in this tour path puddle?
It is her mother's longing lucid dream.
Shimmering shadows that are so subtle,
fading liberty hopes, that she has...

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Holding unaware worlds close to discover
as a child finds a newfound secret land.
Take the noble path to touch the other
go through cosmic cracks to let...

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