Parents Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Parents Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Parents. These are the best examples of Sonnet Parents poems written by international poets.
I miss the haven of my youth long past
when melancholy melted in the mirth
of sharing time with siblings. What a blast
we used to have. No memories are worth
as much as those when life was still carefree.
If there were worries, they were shouldered by
two parents who looked after family
and did their best to make sure to supply
their kids with the necessities to thrive.
We were not rich, but we were clothed and fed,
and from our parents, we learned how to strive
to meet our goals in future lives we led.
No home is perfect, but I can be glad
as havens go, a great one I sure had!
I have a body till I’m to survive
to feel myself as a living person
to continue journey, so long I live.
When to leave the body ! Me in tension.
Depending on body, my life to lead :
At any time I can meet my demise.
Inevitable, no more to proceed.
I don’t possess my body, great surprise.
Inherited body from my parents.
On the body I can have no control.
Yet bound to care for Body, no complaints.
Only wishful thinking : May I own Soul?
To use in life, body given to live.
Bare fact : From body I’m destined to leave.
A sonnet by this arrant bard, an other,
whose sole half-brother, a real piece of work,
and single parent (mother like no other!),
together were no warm nor loving perk.
In her heart, mother disowned me in life.
My younger half-brother begrudged my genius,
whilst being a rival who sowed seeds of strife,
in mother, against me (how very jealous
was he?). But I, an outright bard, complete
and sheer, make their dysfunction a rhymed affair
to exorcise these memories: defeat
this duo by whom I'm “an other” in despair!?
But if I could return my estranged mother,
I still wouldn't—and call my half-sibling, “Brother!”
Caressing breeze should turn into tempest.
And clear off all dust and dirt of nature.
Though buds and blossoms might feel embarrassed
Shouldn't time-twirls whirl each legislature?
I have come to fight for each other's rights.
Should one curl on riches and others starve?
Should cutthroat competitions reach their heights?
Shouldn't each being find what they deserve?
Parents and children must clash on concepts.
Young ones must question all age-old rites.
Unrest must last till grace fills all precepts.
Shouldn't spirit fill all empty, dark nights?
Cast fire on earth, you said. Let it blaze.
Let each creature know the almighty's ways!
When he grows up he wants to be
a hero in a man’s army
He’ll join the war and fight the foe
to foreign shores he’ll gladly go
His sweetheart he will kiss farewell
his parents’ hearts will truly swell
He’ll proudly don his uniform
and head off to the gath’ring storm
But soon the smirk will leave his face
when bursts of bombs and missiles chase
him underground as scared as hell
He'll lose control, begin to yell…
Brave dreams give way to brutish war
~ no hero ever clamors for
Iambic Tetrameter ~
You may have heard the tale of brave Tom Thumb,
The tiny boy who brought his parents joy.
But what of his younger sister, Sweet Plum?
A sister just as grand as any boy.
Just one inch taller than her brother's height;
Her heart was yet as big as hearts can get.
She loved to gather flowers in the light,
And rush to bring them home before sunset.
Arrayed in her favorite pretty dress,
She left a fresh bouquet on every door.
She did it out of love, not to impress,
Which made the townsfolk love her all the more.
Though small in stature, she was mighty kind,
The truest friend that you could ever find.
eternal infancy
enjoyed all his life
indulgent parents
a grown up baby
knowing no strife
odd predicament
I often wondered how I came to be,
Brought up by relatives so far away,
My parents fought, in parting they were free,
My lonely life never indulged in play.
Growing up, battling my sad life alone,
I studied hard, determined to achieve,
Saw my aunts, all finished in their gravestones
I worked and studied more, no time to grieve.
Until I met my sweet soul mate and learned
How good it felt to woo and love and care.
For hearts are won and not easily earned,
She became my world, together we'd share.
I learned about all other's past mistakes,
Kept joy and love, for that is all it takes.
To See the Other Side
The mountain boldly looms, impeding my ambitions.
My stature dwarfs to accept these preconditions.
My prestige cowers and independence shatters;
There is no solidity in my appearance.
The fixture mocks my character’s unravelling
Of a fleeting, hysterical montage weeping,
Defiantly cursing God and parents, cursing all.
“Cajole me!” I cannot climb, and so I will crawl.
Brush this monstrosity away from my vista,
This horrid rock that curtains my soul’s perspective.
“Remove it for me!” Let me see the other side;
If it’s not good, then show me another direction.
Mellow the view and let compassion be reflected.
“Let me breathe!” This isn’t the life I envisioned.
The Sonnet of Jane Doe
Jane Doe, number one four two.
What is your name, what did you do?
Were you a sister a banker or whore?
We want to know what you did before.
Were you a daughter, mother, or aunt?
Without your name we just can’t,
find your family, parents, or home,
and you will lay here dead and alone.
We want to find the ones you did love,
so they can know you’re in heaven above.
You were a person not just a thing,
what is your name so your loved ones can sing.
Jane Doe, number one four two.
What was your name, what did you do?
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
None rankle me like a parent so blind,
he or she that see what they choose to see.
O readers, I beg of that rudest kind
must they breed so damn prolifically?
A time to be seen, a time to be heard,
such should be the nature of kids and kings -
and patience tempered with an ordered word
in the battle of wills and childish things.
All I ask of you children of the corn
is hold your quicksilver tongues as a rule,
but every minute a jackass is born
who will play up, play dumb, and play the fool!
Thus a child not chastised in transgression
is schooled in misdeed and not the lesson.
Written: June 1991
There was a time long ago when I felt inferior
For we didn’t have the niceties when I was a lad,
Our home was furnished of the sparsest interior
Necessities were essential, not the fleeting fad,
We, of course, never realized we were so poor
For our parents taught us to be clean and proud,
And we were delighted knowing less was more
Someday we’d have “things” we solemnly vowed.
During those years we developed determination,
Believing anything we wanted, we could achieve
We taught ourselves to rise above any situation,
Still, in our minds, it was very difficult to believe
Succeeding in life was always our expectation,
It helped me and my siblings to stay the duration.
written January 16, 2022
Where have they gone- those days of long ago-
when life was simple- more predictable?
When friends and family talked face to face-
eyes flashing in the sun- not on a screen.
When sightseeing and picnics were such fun;
or watching movies on the hometown screen-
then going to the soda shop to play
a song picked from the old jukebox machine.
When Sunday was reserved to pray at church-
and afterward, most families went home
for dinner- kids, their parents, sometimes too-
the grandparents who often shared great tales.
Life then- a gift, filled up with simple things;
my flashbacks top today's more complex flings.
June 29, 2021
Summer sun embraced the verdant meadow
Sprinkling golden waves of heat across the lea
From tall Black-eyed Susans and Goldenrod,
To the cool, rippling brook where crayfish stay
Hidden beneath the moss-covered limestone,
Where young, barefoot boys were wont to play
Those were times now consigned to long ago
Because of dangers and bizarre cultural norms,
Children play in public parks carefully attended
By parents, or guardians, or men in uniforms,
Spend their leisure time with game computers
Interested in how the latest pop star performs.
Teenagers tell me I am too old to understand,
But their minds have become a vast wasteland.
NINTH PLACE WINNER
written June 20, 2021
for "Contemporary Sonnet" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Charlotte Puddifoot
She's a little girl aging nine or ten,
Short, serene, slim, with a look luminous;
Obtaining no formal education,
Possessing many a dream glorious;
At sharp five, every morning, her day dawns,
Her dirty sack she takes and off she goes;
Roads, rail tracks, parks, and even private lawns,
What will she get? And where? She never knows;
Parents long unwell and struggling siblings,
She serves them utmost with care abundant;
She collects old bottles, pans, iron strings,
Exchanges and makes a meager amount;
Thus, the little goddess solemnly toils,
Feeds all, sleeps hungry, often, full of smiles.
05/02/2021
Open Poetry 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot