Limerick Poems About A Child | Child Limerick Poems
Poem Details | by Jack Ellison |
Categories: journey, life,

The Arc Of Life

Travelling through life resembles an arc We start out as a child emerging from the dark To reach a crescendo Establishing a tempo Then sadly we all must eventually disembark © Jack Ellison 2015

Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: birth, body, humorous,


I crossed my legs but there was a flood Blushing red I hope folks understood But my waters had burst And the baby's my first Guess I'm ready to start motherhood! NOT FOR CONTEST WRITTEN on 27TH August 2016 BY JAN ALLISON My babe arrived as hungry as a horse As a good mother, I fed him, of course When my breasts began to fill Another flood was about to spill Until my child suckled with great force. WRITTEN ON 08/27/16 BY LIN LANE The first twelve months went mighty quick Time flying by lickity split Crawls out of bed Sits on mom's head A young fireman squirting his stick WRITTEN 08/27/16 BY TIM SMITH Hay, thought I heard another sound of thunder roar Eeh gad, seems to be another two babies more They all have lots of hair Mother-in-law beware Now I am having triplets let me out the door WRITTEN 08/27/16 BY EVE T M C He was born without a suntan And didn’t favor the milk man Birthed on a polar bear rug Full beard on his tiny mug Holding a harpoon like Tarzan! WRITTEN BY SONNY ROPER 8/27/2016 Oh my! What will people think? My baby doesn’t favor his dad’s wink I can always claim in shame He favors my grandma’s frame On my mother’s side is large and pink WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER 8/27/2016 One baby after another I sure am a busy mother I cross my knees Whenever I sneeze Out one end or the other! WRITTEN BY CASARAH NANCE It’s all my darn uterus’s fault, Can’t bring my crying to a halt, No more sex with my hubby, I’m just too tired and chubby, This babe’s an exhausting result! Ice came out sucking a pacifier, Posted sign, “Eskimo nanny for hire!”, But when warm milk is felt, Baby started to melt, Naughty nanny immediately fired! The ice came out with a binky, And a diaper pretty stinky! Eskimo baby is she, Could it even be a he? It’s too frozen and all wrinkly! ALL WRITTEN BY LAURA LOO One by one they came out, midwife slapped 'em and into the cradle she packed 'em father blew candle out and exclaimed with a shout " Just like moths, it's the light that attracts 'em!" WRITTEN BY VIV WIGLEY Making babies was so much fun Now my boobies reach to my tum I can't even sneeze or cough It set's my weak bladder off.. I'd better stick to coke and rum WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS AWARDED POEM OF THE WEEK ON 28TH AUGUST - THE HONOUR IS SHARED BY US ALL.SPECIAL THANKS TO LIN LANE FOR STARTING THE COLLABORATION I'm feeling like a slot machine My wheels stopped on three tangerines Babies falling like rain It's no longer a strain That last one looks just like my spleen WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER I thought I was going to have two But now I don't even have a clue It feels like maybe four I can't take it no more I have five months to go til I'm due WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y I was rushed to the hospital gate not yet due, but I just couldn't wait labor's water broke through elevator broke too flooded stairwells to room did create! WRITTEN BY SANDRA HAIGHT

Poem Details | by Lin Lane |
Categories: introspection,

Exposed With Two Lenses

I was a child of only seven years,
adventurous, bold, I had no fears.
Into the woods I would go
after my Mom told me "No."
But worth the spanking and the tears.

These days the woods are worrisome,
fear I may trip and land on my bum.
Things live there I didn't see
when I was young and carefree.
With age, it's to caution I have succumb.

   { { { February 14th, 2016 } } }

Poem Details | by Dana Smith |
Categories: dedication, depression, life, lost

Borderline Poster Child

Who am I, oh, who am I? Just a poser child Borderline? A series of bold contradictions Led on by doctors false predictions Diagnosing all the time... Angry outbursts fill the air, Throwing objects everywhere, They drug me up, because they're lazy It's too much work to help the crazy I hate the pills, but they don't care Take the drugs, and you'll feel better, We'll smoke some bud, and chill together But even if I smoked the weed Surely that's not all I need The lovely high won't last forever I get attatached to everyone, But when they get too close, I run So many arrows in my heart Cupid shoots, but then I part Not phased by all the wrong I've done So put me on more medication, I'll throw in some dedication, But even then it's not enough This emptiness is still too tough All that's left is contemplation

Poem Details | by Janice Canerdy |
Categories: appreciation, humor, , cute,

Mischievous Minions--A Limerick Suite


			The series "Despicable Me," 
			we've flocked to theaters to see.
			Wee minions--cute creatures--
			and bad guys each features.
			To all we respond with great glee.

			I never dreamed five years ago
			that I would soon dash to and fro
			in search of these minions--
			in children's opinions,
			all treasuresHow well I now know!

			Some kids possess minions galore:
			the one-eyed, the two-eyed, and more.
			They giggle and jabber;
			"BANANA," some blabber.
			Their odd appeal, who could ignore?

			My grandson's like other young boys.
			For Christmas he craved minion toys.
			His loved ones went shopping
			for hours, not stopping
			till we found gifts he now enjoys.
			The minion-themed presents I gave
			were puzzles, a cool talking Dave,
			a pillow with three guys
			with one or two huge eyes.
			For these he did hug me and rave.

	`		I'm glad to say just one thing more:
			Fart Blaster, I left at the store!
			The child would have driven 
			me nuts if I'd given
			him that thing; but Dave, I adore.

Date posted: February 23, 2016

The rhyming scheme of a limerick is aabba.

Poem Details | by alan balter |
Categories: animal,

Harvey the Hippo

Harvey the Hippo

Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large as a riverboat barge
And he weighs ten times more than a lot of us

Big Harvey isn’t nasty or troublesome
Nor like other guys who are double dumb
He just wanders around stomping the ground
Looking for pieces of bubble gum

Harvey owns a fine yellow cummerbund
And sewn on the back is the number one
He wears it right proudly and bellows quite loudly
While playing outside in the summer sun

Once Harvey met up with a crocodile
Together they decided to walk a mile
Near the shore they strolled, but the water got cold
So they sat down to talk on the dock a while

Eating Oreo cookies about four apiece
They talked about matters of war and peace
They discussed the economy, art, and astronomy
And the huge immigration of foreign geese

Then walking back toward his new shiny house
Harvey stopped for a chat with a tiny mouse
Her name was Du Barry; they decided to marry
And soon come a baby named Stanislaus

A handsome young child was Stanislaus
Dressed up in his fine silken Spanish blouse
They all had made history; this was no mystery
For Stan was the first Hippopotamouse

Huge Harvey adored his sweet ladylove
From her wee little feet to her head above
He brought her some strings and other fine things
Including a snowy white turtledove

Harvey has grown really mellow now
He seldom produces a bellow now
But if you’re down by the bay, you can still see him play
This wondrous and gentle old fellow now

Poem Details | by Deborah Burch |
Categories: adventure, childhood, fantasy, hope,

First of May

"First of May"

When I was a child I ran away
To live with the circus in Bombay,
Where all things were new
And possible, too!
So, for this they called me "First of May"!

I started out selling concessions:
Hot! Popcorn! Hot! Peanuts! Confections!
But in my spare time,
I'd secretly climb
Into the Great Cannon--for missions!

My costume and cape were blue and grey,
Spark'ling like stars with each flight--Away!
By day selling fare--
Nights--Fly Through The Air!
Dreams do come true when you're "First of May"!*

deborah burch©

*Note: "First of May" is a circus term used to describe 'newbies' who come to the means that everything is new,exciting, fresh, and anything/everything is possible! :)

Poem Details | by Daljit Khankhana |
Categories: caregiving

A Remorseless Battle

The Poem is dedicated to nine innocents who has lost their lives in Israli attak on their 
humanitarian aid

Docility, a living destitute of Anthropomorphism.
Recency, appalling of desperation or piteous anomalism.
Recommendations apotheosize a fussiness of hell or heaven,  
A gun shooter killed innocents a crackable Raven
To shot a child or an old person hard lines limicolous
Inconsecutive lewdness a peevish peeping Tom Ligneous.
Reprehensible polygamist direful coiled chaotic prattle,
A salacious salubrity paramour remorseless battle 

Poem Details | by Jack Ellison |
Categories: age,

The Transition Age

Eighty seems to be the transition age When we revert back to a child like stage We stomp our feet No more sweet It allows us the privilege to rant and rave

Poem Details | by Nitesh Aggarwal |
Categories: computer-internet, family, for children,

Double Disappointment

I woke up in rapture, when she started to sing.
Naughty whispers in my ears, “Someone’s coming”
My ecstatic view;
A child is due!
Then she continues, “My mother’s visiting”

Poem Details | by Joseph May |
Categories: fun,

Booty call

 Dear depressed girfriend
You must bring this relationship to an end
He doesn't want you at all
Except for a booty call
That seems to be the trend

The two baby daddies that you got
Are they paying child support or not?
I don't  intend to be mean
But you have very low self esteem
Try to find someone who loves you lots

Poem Details | by Caryl Muzzey |
Categories: childhood


As a child it was fun and quite daring
To ogle what each other was carrying
We hid in the loft
Where we played quite oft
To inspect what the other was baring

Copyright © 2010  By Caryl SMuzzey

Fifth Place Winner ~ "There once was a man from Dunkirk ” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi 
Feb15, 2011

Poem Details | by Duke Beaufort |
Categories: allegory, dream, wisdom,

Some thoughts come in code

When unsurpassed greed's uncontrolled
King Midas' story be told!
The steps to his stash
Cast his daughter for cash
She's an allegory of gold

Author's note: I had a vivid dream a few nights ago Part of it included a feeling that I needed to check my personal stash of valuables I thought the items were locked in the basement However, when I came to the door to the staircase leading down expecting it to be locked, it was ajar I opened it all the way, and there was a child coming up the steps We looked at each other, and the child tumbled down the stairs and appeared dead It was a terrible feeling The poem above is one interpretation of what I might have been trying to tell myself There are other interpretations as well However, I am left with the idea that our society's focus on the material is destroying our love for each other and our families This is a huge problem for me and has taken a lot of my thought time over the past few days Meanwhile, I tell myself to enjoy each day, and I try.

Poem Details | by Cynthia Jones |
Categories: art,

Banana Eating Roo -Limerick-

There once was a child from Canada Who loved eating bananas, He went to the zoo Gave one to the roo, Now the roo has a banana colored bandana Copyright Cynthia Jones Feb.17/2005

Poem Details | by Mark Goodson |
Categories: childhood, death, depression, family,

A Child of Nine

When I was a child of nine
I thought I had all the time
Time to live and be happy
Time to fish with my pappy
But death had crossed the line

Poem Details | by Robert A. Dufresne |
Categories: fantasy

Critter Tale

 A slim handsome ogre named Vampire,
married into a fairytale empire.
His elfin wife named Hairy
bore him a sharp toothed fairy,
That looked like a Hobbit from the shire.

Much to the elves’ and Ogres’ chagrin,
they bore an impish child again.
This time being on a roll,
they bore an impish troll,
and now all the fantasy creatures are kin!

(inspired by Debbie Guzzi's contest)

Poem Details | by JACQUELYN STURGE |
Categories: funny, blue, boy,


They have poor Little Boy Blue tending sheep
That's why he got tired and fell asleep,
Other kids on the court
Shooting hoops playing sport,
He's scared of his dad and won't say a peep.

Well the cows went and eat up all the corn
And they want poor Boy Blue to blow his horn,
Why 'twas not a drum set
Or guitar, better yet,
The cows and the sheep to him would be drawn.

Didn't his parents know the Child Labor Laws
Or somebody forgot to read that clause
Protective Services
Should be called into this,
They should hire workers to meet that cause.

Poem Details | by Adell Foster |
Categories: art, daughter, education, family,

Ma Dropping It Like Its Hot (Limerick)

MsPotter caught her daughter Lollipop
There dancing in the grocer’s parking lot
And scolded her profusely
‘Til someone cranked up “Juicy”…
MsPotter stopped and dropped it like it’s hot

How soon some forget that they were once young tooIf the power of dance is ones 
passion it is not the worst vice a child can have, in fact it is good exercise One 

Poem Details | by Thomas Martin |
Categories: appreciation, growing up, ocean,

Two in Sea Time

For the  child in us all.

Sea, sea can't catch me,
All the waves that I can see,
Would like to carry me away
Swallow my blue-eyed day
Swell up and float away wee, me.

That I respect my blowsy ocean
You cannot be a sea without motion,
Nor I a child without fear of your tides,
But oh they so give such fabulous rides,
When from you I teasingly run.

Poem Details | by Richard Breese |
Categories: angel, baby, child, child

Nerd Dad

There once was a child with a rattle
Who liked to crawl among cattle.
Until its mom found out
And to her ex did shout,
You just lost your custody battle.

Poem Details | by john chizoba vincent |
Categories: art,


In my baby diaper i sang
Then motherly songs never slang
Lullaby welcomes me home meekly
In me lies hope boldly
But i still remain a child in the gang

Poem Details | by JACQUELYN STURGE |
Categories: funny,


Well I pulled out some Mother Goose rhymes
'Cause I read to my Great-Grand sometimes,
And the rhymes that I read
They were so very dread
Nowadays they'd be considered crimes.

That Old Lady who lived in a shoe
Why didn't somebody tell her "don't screw"
With a whole bunch of kids
And living on the skids,
Then abusing the children, who knew?

Not a Baby Daddy was in port
Did the Cops get them for child support,
What 'bout the welfare check?
No food stamps? what the heck!
Did she trade it for something to snort?

Poem Details | by Jimmy Anderson |
Categories: funny, holidayme,

Me and Santa

Age 5
As a child I awoke from my slumber
I arose from the couch to grab a cucumber
   Santa was eating my cookies.
   Like a baseball rookie.
I threw the cucumber and Santa fell like lumber!

Age 6
Santa returned the following year.
No presents for me was my biggest fear.
   I hid behind the couch.
   I heard Santa say "ouch."
He slipped on my marbles and fell on his rear!

Age 7
The following Christmas was a surprise to me.
I fell asleep curled up under the tree
   Santa woke me with a smile
   He said, "It's been awhile."
Then dumped Rudolph's dung on me!

Poem Details | by Anisha Dutta |
Categories: appreciation, bird,

Feeding The Ducklings

                 Feeding The Ducklings

      While picking up my little daughter from school
       We were to follow the path passing a pool,
             only to watch ducks and ducklings
             swimming, playing, gaily giggling.
      Blowing breeze over water was soothing and cool.

     My child was to throw bread-piece from pocket
        or to hit tiny fruits with her racket 
        to drop those and float on water surface.
      Flock of ducklings swam on rapid race
   to swallow floating fruits on prompt attempt.

     On her primary school days that was a routine.
      Feeding of ducklings was funny and fine.
         Merry ducklings always follow duck
         Amusing cheerful calls ‘Quack-Quack’.
      A sweet remembrance of my child and mine.




Poem Details | by Enik Fox |
Categories: warheart, people, child, heart,

True price of war

The mighty warlord shakes his fist and sends his troops to the abyss
Families broken and torn because of an oath that was sworn
Fathers and sons die in vain but no one can feel their pain
Mothers cry as their children are sent off to die
Innocent blood is shed, does no one care for these dead
Sadness grips the heart of man as many a persons blood stains the land
Cries from the public go unheard as the warlord shouts his mighty words
Kill them all he says, make these people pay
The screams of wounded go on through the night begging for the warlord to end the fight
No answer comes from his high up throne for his heart is cold as stone
Only a child dared to face him
He begged for his people 
His words so moved the warlord he again shook is fist this time calling his troops from
the abyss
Families are pieced back together after the mighty storm they have weathered
The child is proclaimed a hero
Sides that once wared against each other now call themselves brothers
Fields are resown and homes rebuilt, no longer does the warlord feel  guilt
But nothing can replace the loss of life for that is the true price of war

Poem Details | by john fedele |
Categories: confusion, courage, day, deep,

Why didn't they kill me

scars have the power to remind us that the past is real-"hanibal lector"

Why didn't they kill me..why am i still here...?
Being successful is my goal...being flat broke, my biggest fear 

The pain is far to great to hide, laying awake, wide eyed, contemplating suicide,
what is my purpose, and if i stay alive, would it all be worth it? 
will I make something of myself? or maybe i should just forfeit, 
my one wish is to not have to worry, and to all those I've disappointed, I gave up, and I'm sorry
A strong man is what people think of me, 
but deep down inside, a child is what i aim to be, 
because you see, a child, so carefree, 
doesn't worry about the downsides to the world, 
only the fun things God lets them see....
please, one day set me free, 
take me away, 
from this hurt filled life that I lead, 
I plead and plead for someone to rescue me, 
but when I look in the mirror, what is it that I see? 
a broken down child, crying on both knees
this life gives no mercy, and only the strong survive,
how will my family the event of my demise? 
i pray no one cries for me, because i am in a better place, 
I've rid myself of the bitter pain, sadness and disgrace 
maybe if i get another chance, my demons i will face, 
but for now i walk through the valley of death, a sad, cold, and bitter place.
Hoping after this valley ill see heavens smiles and grace,
but I fear that my mistakes will lead me to the devils face 
so many mistakes I can never erase, You only get one chance,
so my advice is to seize the day.
I've tried...I've prayed and prayed, but the pain still wont go away
day after day, my life i want to take away...but even that I fail to do
so night after night I'll lay,
in bed awake but dreaming, of the day my pain goes away...

Poem Details | by Patricia Sawyer |
Categories: adventure, funny, seasons

Wet Feet

there once was a child from the city
who grew up in fear.what a pity

she cried millions of tears
and was ignored fifty years

now in a puddle she scribbles this ditty

Poem Details | by Sara Chansarkar |
Categories: friend, funny,

You,my friend

You, my friend make me a child again
Unlocking the silliness I hide in my brain
No dirty jokes, I tell my kids
With eyes firm under the lids
But laughing at your poop jokes, I can’t restrain

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: sympathy,

After Crime

After Crime

After Crime was a cremation
Happening after a situation
When a child was killed
Whose life was not fulfilled
May never find an explanation.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: humorous,

Insults By Trump

Insults By Trump

Trump's insults seem to be unending
And on mind of a child are depending
Don't invite people and be a deterrent
Knowledge of issues is never current
His campaign should be suspending.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by Richard Olson |
Categories: political, truth,

Charlatan King

He was a fox in the art of the deal.
From the flocks, nest eggs he would steal.
He'd cheat on his spouse,
this white-collar louse,
for the chance to cop just a feel.

He bathed in the light of his fame.
Obsessed with the sound of his name.
Money came first,
though never dispersed,
for him it was all just a game.

He sat all alone in his tower.
Dreaming of absolute power.
Reality waned,
whenever he reigned,
in a mind that would twist by the hour.

He was a child in a much older shell.
Carried by slaves when he fell.
He never once sweat,
in the bed that he wet,
but be damned anyone who would tell.

He somehow maintained this mirage.
To the fools he would soon sabotage.
He promised them things, 
without any strings,
till these lies became a barrage.

No matter as truth was no more.
It was banished as though it a whore.
Conservative thought, 
was easily bought,
with the charlatan king came the store.

He ascended his Washington throne.
As common sense wasn't found in a phone.
Blindsided by hate,
a degenerative trait,
by those quick to cast the first stone.

So where does this leave us now?
Are we sucking pigs to this sow?
Will he smother us all,
as he rolls with each call,
or will he keep us around just to bow?

       Written:  12/26/16

Poem Details | by George Aul |
Categories: humor, love hurts,

Cheese With Some Whine

She told me she loved me but what a lie,
her clock was ticking - child days flying by,
the devious plan was set,
I fell for the scam, you bet...
My kingdom for a noose around one-eye!


Just for contest purposes.

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: appreciation, sympathy,



What I sometimes realize
How other people sympathize
With me and my each effort
No one would I ever hurt
A hungry child always cries.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by James Edward Lee Sr. |
Categories: baby, blessing, celebration, for

A Toddler Girl Named LeiNah

There once was the toddler named LeiNah;
Such a pretty young tang was ya could C  her;
She loves balloons and animals but to her dismay;
Her mother said no, no way, no animals at this house  this i say;
See ya daddy, Oh by the way here's a doll now go sit down you here!
My dear!!!

There once was a girl name LeiNah;
If you don't feed her on time she'll scream at you;
Supper better be good or should give you a right hook;
Her uncle calls her "Death Grip " ;
Her little hand holds you real tight better not get in a fight ;
Or she'll rock your night;
Hit ya so hard you won't your wrong from your right, GOOD Note!

And when she gets older, she'll make them bullies;
Hand over their shoes,
As they run away boo-who, boo-who boo who;
And just how old she is;
I AM ONLY 14 months, ya chump NO!  Really;
Unlike Lena Horne;
I'll make you sing soprano if you pull my hair;

I am not a Tomgirl, my Grandpa says I am a MANGIRL!!
Careful I'll steal your joy;
Now TMZ better spell my name right see;
Or I'm gonna tell my mom the real paparazzi;
An unlike " Destiny's Child " Say my name, Say my name;
Muhammad Ali "What's my name, What's my name;
Git it write, I spell my name


Don't mess with me or ya B barefooted and I'll have you shoes around my neck;
And the neck time you see me bully U  B  writing me out a check;
Now what's my name again
Say my name my new friend;
Spell it now
Git it right
My name is.......

LeiNah            And I'm glad to meet ya!!


LeiNah's Song
Written by James Edward Lee Sr (c)2017 
Dedicated to MY granddaughter
June 2017

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Sing Us A Stanza

Sing Us A Stanza

We want someone to sing us a stanza
About when we entered an extravaganza
Forgot child support;
Spend a day in court;
After trying to find a big bonanza.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by Richard Olson |
Categories: children, religion,

Testing the Faithful - As Gender, Religion, and a Kid, Collide One Sunday Morning

                              A transgender priest named Peter,
                              worked when he could as a greeter.
                              The shoppers confessed,
                              he surely was blessed,
                              with so much that he walked with a teeter.

                              The Church was so unamused.
                              The Parishioners so confused.
                              So everyone prayed,
                              to neuter, or spay,
                              whatever was there to be used.

                              As Peter stood up for his sermon,
                              in the pews, everyone was a squirmin'
                              He came out and said,
                              "My flock I've misled.
                               I'm a LutheranAnd worse, I'm a German."

                              A silence came over the crowd.
                              Until a child spoke to the proud.
                              "I don't care what they say,
                               if you're straight, or your gay,
                               you Krauts got guts when you're plowed."

                                         (Written:  11/5/17)
                                      (On a Sunday morning)

Poem Details | by Brian Johnston |
Categories: humorous,

Chauvinistic Pigs and Other Limericks

We men are all chauvinist pigs tra-la-la, 
And love to take girls to our digs tra-la-la
Though girl snorts when she laughs, 
We don't care about gaffes, 
When our hearts find they're all dancing jigs tra-la-la!

I'm a kid who grew up on the farm tra-la-la
And I don't mean to woo or alarm tra-la-la, 
But I'm telling y'all, 
Don't make fun of the drawl, 
Or you're likely to feel more than charm tra-la-la.

There are Sundays you'll find me in church tra-la-la, 
But on weekdays I try to climb birch tra-la-la
I don't care what you say, 
I know Frost went this way, 
And my muse loves the view from his perch tra-la-la.

I heard "anyone lived in a pretty how town," (1) 
But Salvation escaped him, eloped with a clown, 
Death is ever the wage paid for sins, 
But a child at Christ's feet mostly grins, 
Questions asked with no frown; angels bless child's renown! 

Brian Johnston
August 15,2017

Poet's Notes:
Limerick #3 is a take off on Robert Frost's famous poem "Birches."
(1) Limerick #4 is meant to be a humorous commentary on a famous e e cummings poem.

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Beguiled About Child Defiled

Beguiled About Child Defiled

We definitely did know that he beguiled,
And had taken advantage of and defiled;
How absurd,
This occurred;
She was minor considered to be a child.

Jim Horn

Roy Moore running for Senator in Alabama
should drop out of race.

Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: age, anger, child, christmas,


I was shopping in the local mall When a toddler just started to bawl He stamped his tiny feet And demanded a treat But his mum wouldn’t buy a football! He continued to scream and shout His small mouth displayed a huge pout But much to his chagrin His mum did not cave in Just warned him he could get a clout! His dad took the child by the hand And said words he could understand When your mummy says no Don’t put on a floor show - Good parenting really is grand! (Just for the record I'm not advocating it's good parenting to smack a child - it just happened to rhyme for the poem which is fictional) Incidentally in October 2017 Scotland was the first place in the UK to ban parents from smacking their child..I wonder how successful that will be! 12/24/17

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Started Out Slow

Started Out Slow

Are many ways which a child may go;
Did end up fast after starting out slow;
God is there;
Secrets to share;
Right pace for us God will always know.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Participate and Separate

Participate and Separate

Good from bad Trump failed to separate;
In bad behavior he often does participate;
His orange hair,
Is hard to bare;
Looks like poor example has set as of late.

Jim Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

Soiled and Spoiled
(Or Be, Being, Been)

Trump's brain appears to be badly soiled;
Acts like some child who is being spoiled;
With you this share;
Ugly hair will wear;
In hot oil, body should have been boiled.

Trump An Old Grunge

Trump is really ridiculous old grunge;
Into debt enjoys taking big plunge;
Lacks a level head;
Wish would drop dead;
Stole money when it he did expunge.

Trump Can Cause Us To Fret

Trump treats us like fools who do fret,
Which will bother and make us upset;
Creates hard times;
In butts and chimes;
Him get away with we should not let.

Jim Horn

Jim Horn

Over ten again.

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Can Confide In Jesus

Can Confide In Jesus

We really wondered what was the matter;
Around countryside people would scatter;
Needed a guide,
Who in to confide;
Saw Jesus soon and around did gather.

Said many things while he was speaking;
Our Lord and savior we had been seeking;
After growing;
Flowers flowing;
Of hope, Jesus became a ray and beacon.

Jubilantly heard bells as they rang and rang;
Worshipers all around Jesus sang and sang;
Such a scene,
And so serene;
Under majestic mountain was wild mustang.

With Jesus close by we became enthralled;
Heard angels in sky as they called and called;
Here and there;
Then everywhere;
Were near a city which was proudly walled.

Down before Jesus on our knees did fall;
Some people were small while others tall;
Daughters with sons,
Who God never shuns;
He spoke to child and held her like a doll.

All of you may be precious children of mine;
Are always obedient never getting out of line;
Were with Jesus;
Loved Him to pieces;
Faces were brightly beaming and did shine.

After meeting discovered was over and done,
So happy and contented became everyone;
Jesus had satisfied;
On Him they relied;
He saved us from all sin and left were none.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Soiled and Spoiled

Soiled and Spoiled
(Or Be, Being, Been)

Trump's brain appears to be badly soiled;
Acts like some child who is being spoiled;
With you this share;
Ugly hair will wear;
In hot oil, body should have been boiled.

So we can save all of our sanity,
Remember veterans and their vanity;
Always involved;
Problems resolved;
Trying to protect life and humanity.

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Savior Cause and Create

Savior Cause and Create

Whatever we have done be not afraid,
For in a crib our lovely Baby Jesus laid,
And at birth would be Savior's beginning;
Will save us from disagreeing and sinning.

With Christ Child Mary did become great;
Our Savior she would cause and create;
By God Himself she had been selected;
What we must do exactly is as directed.

Many animals with Wise Men were there,
Waiting to see Mary with a child to bare;
Jesus had been born beneath brilliant stars;
Later on wrists and ankles would bare scars.

Before Jesus each head was to be bowed;
Start singing songs and sounding so loud;
Be of joy and happiness without any fear;
Welcome Son of God Jesus who is now here.

Jim Horn

Poem Details | by James Horn |
Categories: allegory, analogy,

Christ Child Did Yield

Christ Child Did Yield

From Mary, a Christ Child she did yield;
Had been born in a barn near a flat field;
Savior meant to be,
For you and me,
And would worship Him while we kneeled.

Jim Horn