'crayons' poems - Hello Poetry

Jabin Jun 2018

We sit as children on paper with crayons.
The timing too perfect, as soon we will learn.
Sifting through albums of family photos,
we struggle, endure; tomorrow we must fight-
for semblance of self in uncertain future.
The reflection we see tells "truth" to our eyes.

Frantic, we hope someone will see through our eyes,
see the artwork we’ve crafted with our crayons.
We fall wayward as they continue their fight.
But were we not supposed to be their future?
Onward, we find, only refusal to learn,
and they hope to be remembered in photos.

Happily we sat in booths, taking photos.
Love for each other, blooming shutter of eyes;
snapping so clearly: destiny, the future.
Making love through the pain, we began to learn:
Romance is like the colors of our crayons;
Red passion, blue tears, green envy, the black fight.

And from gray ashes, we gained strength from the fight.
Made a history of our lives through photos.
Our own child is coming. So much she will learn.
In her tiny grasp, she’ll struggle with crayons.
Let’s color a better image for her eyes;
help her discern a multicolored future.

For we have reckoned our own troubled future,
must be rife with the educational fight,
lest we forget our past: black and white crayons.
We’ve witnessed the agony, beauty through eyes,
deceived that the past is happy as photos,
as though there was nothing more for us to learn.

As for our beauty, she’s but begun to learn
that always we’ve waited for her, our future.
The love we’d not gotten, sadness in our eyes.
Thankful we are, to have learned from the photos,
to muster our strength and our love for the fight.
Imagine the hue she’ll paint with her crayons.

Remember to learn, that we must also fight.
Leave behind your photos. Look to the future.
Behind those eyes, do you remember crayons?

This is my first attempt at writing a sestina poem. This is for my wife and daughter.

#crayons #learn #photos #fight #future #eyes #past #present #love

rebecca Jul 2018

Broken Crayons

rebecca Jul 2018

Broken Crayons

Broken crayons still color the same.
I mean- isn't that really the aim?
Finish coloring the big picture-
our life picture.
We're all crayons,
or markers, paint perhaps.
Everyone's a little bent,
cracked. Snapped,
in some way shape form.
It's really kinda the norm
nowadays.
But in a box full of crayons-
when they are used, when they live-
they snap. They crack.
They break.
But they still work, just the same.
It may be a bit tougher for them-
but they're tougher from it.
We're tougher from it.
We're all broken crayons
filling in our own life line.
But broken crayons still color fine.

#broken #color #life #tough #growth #hard #art #crayons

Victoria Jensen Jul 2012

A Box of Crayons

Victoria Jensen Jul 2012

A Box of Crayons

Life used to be simple
A box of crayons was all you’d need
Everyone had some
And shared with all
When you got older though
People would take your crayons
Without permission
And never return them
Turning your 24 pack into a 16 pack
Or that cool 96 with the sharpener in the back
To just a box with a sharpener on the back.
The people who used to be your friends
Are now just the ones who took your crayons
Or brought back half a crayon
No one ever said life was easy
But childhood was supposed to be right?
A box of crayons
made life fun
and worthwhile
at least for a little while

JR Rhine May 2018

Bullet in a Box of Crayons

JR Rhine May 2018

Bullet in a Box of Crayons

There is a bullet in a box of crayons with really strange names like Parkland Perrywinkle, Sandy Hook Sanguine, and Great Mills Green in a place where children play Russian Roulette with their school supplies when they reach in to grab one and they’ve been learning about probability this week Forrest Gump will tell them you never know if you’re going to finish the lesson or turn into a statistic my sister likes to create mosaics by putting a hairdryer to crayons melting cascades of wax down a blank page sometimes she reaches in and it’s the one lead crayon at the top of the page and it’s only one color that seeps down into the crevices of the cafeteria’s tile floor that proceeds to wash away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers washes away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers I see another child reach into the box and I write another word problem I write another word problem: “Zoey reaches into a box of crayons. What is the likelihood she will not get to hang her drawing up on her kitchen refrigerator? What is the likelihood her funeral photo will hang there instead?” Draw students’ attention to the key word “likelihood.” Tell students This word shows that the question is asking whether or not you will live to tell your parents how your day at school was. and I wonder when school desks will take the shape of caskets in a place where both screams of laughter and screams of terror
are permitted

TRIGGER WARNING: My Fiance and I were just talking last night about how this poem, written at the time of March for our Lives, seemed a little passe. And here we are, another school shooting in Texas. On average, there has been a school shooting every week in 2018. Most kids are worrying about whether shrimp poppers is on the menu this week, whether it's an A or B week. They shouldn't have to worry about getting shot at. Never again.

#school #protest #shooting #never #again #guns #march #control #children #parkland

Meghan O'Neill Apr 2014

Crayons

Meghan O'Neill Apr 2014

Crayons

When i was younger
I loved to color.
At my grandparent's house
there was a shoebox
full of crayons.
I am older now.
So are my grandparents.
I got the crayons from the closet
because I still love to color.
With a satisfied smile
my grandfather turned to me
and said "you remembered where the crayons were"

Hello Daisies May 2023

Crayons

Hello Daisies May 2023

Crayons

I had a dream
It's coming back in flashes
Making me cry
Making me wonder why

We were crayons
We were being used
By someone else
Acting out a scene
A broken romance scene
Of us
But everyone around
Was tired
Of us
I was blue wrapper
I was attached to you
You were red
You made me feel
Dead

I wouldn't
I wouldn't
Let go
I was blue
Attached to you
again
You were red
You were
So
Red

We were crayons
I think
Because of how childish
I was
To ever believe
Ever believe
I could trust anyone
Faithfully

I could ever trust
Anyone
With my innocence
We were crayons
In my mind
To represent
The childish fun
We had
The innocence
Of my mind
Thinking you'd never
Leave me behind

It's flashing
Flashing
Red
Flashing
Flashing
I'm blue
Still attached to you
Still attached
To
You
Everything
You do
I'm wrapped
Around
You
My whole life

Crumbling
Like a broken crayon
All my friends up
And ran
I have nobody
Alone
Like I used to be
A sad child
Crying out
For sincerity
Always blue
Leached onto
You
You took it all
I'm still wrapped
Around your burning
Flaming
Firey
Hell
I never fell
Off
I still cling

To everything
I'm missing
You stole it
You broke it

I'm just the wrapper
Trying to cling
To anything
nobody wants
Just the wrapper
They want the color
They want to smother
Their paper
In red
And leave the blue
The darkest of blues
To stew
Alone
Like the ocean
So much blue
so quiet
All alone

Always trying
To swim
My way
Back to you

the flashing
Flashing
Red
We had
I'm flashing
Flashing
blue
In my mind
Always still
Attached to
You

#dream #lost #love #trauma

Lily Feb 2020

Green Crayons

Lily Feb 2020

Green Crayons

Toddlers can put green crayons in the freezer without
Anybody questioning them and I
Have a problem with that.
I have a problem with the fact that toddlers can put
Green crayons in the freezer and tell their parents that they are
Preserving
The Earth and that they’ve been learning about
Animal adaptations and conjunctions in school
And that they
Love
Their friends.
I have a problem with the fact that a
Toddler’s idea of
Beauty
Is a butterfly landing on their finger during
Recess, a snowflake on their tongue, the
Grogginess of  staying up past 8:30,
****** snacks, Dora the Explorer,
The satisfaction of scraping the
First chunk out of a tub of butter, the
Giddiness and fear at your first sleepover,
The one where you had to timidly shake your
Friend awake in the middle of the night because you could
Not for the
Life of you find the bathroom.
I’m not ashamed to admit that
I haven’t said I love you in a time that
Lingers like the smell of burning.
It’s always love you or love ya and I’ve
Forgotten what it feels like for those words to
Caress my lips, to guide my heart
Out of its cage into the
Stale air.
I want to be considering beauty like a
Toddler.  I want to be watching Dora and
Learning about conjunctions, but instead I’m
Crying because I can’t fit into my jeans right and I
Don’t know how to do makeup.  I want to say
I love you and let it
Ring in the air like
Frozen music
But I can’t
Because you’re
States away and instead I brush my hair
So many times for people who don’t even like me that
There’s no personality left.
I have a problem with the fact that you
Moved on so quickly and left me with the
Loves me not flower petal and that
Dora the Explorer is not on Netflix
Anymore and the price of Happy Meals goes
Up everyday like the age of my
Heart
And that
Toddlers can put green crayons in the freezer without
Anybody questioning them and say that
They
Are preserving the Earth.

This is an imitation of Bob Hicok's poem "Whither Thou Goest" that I did in my poetry class. As always, please leave your thoughts! :) <3

#love #crush #relationship #sadness #depression #him #green #kids #happiness #regret

Theetranquilpearl Dec 2019

Broken crayons still colour

Theetranquilpearl Dec 2019

Broken crayons still colour

Broken crayons do colour
They might have snapped me on the inside
But my ends
My ends still colour
Yes I may not tell the story like others do
But my story still matters
My story is quite unique
But we are all still made of the same wax
Some of us just have a lot to lose
Our lights are not as bright as others
We walk half empty,half full
We faced battles much earlier
We are much hollow
But my ends still do colour
You see I might be able to be repaired on the inside but I still do colour
I colour much more carefully not trying to smudge the edges
I colour much harder than you do
But I still colour
Beacause my ends still colour
I might be snapped in the middle
But broken crayons still colour

#companionship #resilence #strength

Noah Stowe Jun 2017

crayons

Noah Stowe Jun 2017

crayons

broken crayons
organized by colour
and size
shape and fracture
they’re all used
all beautiful
but for some reason
everyone prefers a colour
they say they love the rainbow
but when it rains
they find the shelter
they say they love the smile
but when tears
mark enemies of good thoughts
they back away
into the depths
broken crayons
aren’t meant for being sat on
broken crayons
can still draw
images of velvet skies
and crystalline water
but you’ll always reach
for the whole
before you think
to touch the broken

Wardell Lee Freeman Jul 2014

I am NOT gay

Wardell Lee Freeman Jul 2014

I am NOT gay

I tend to get stares... Looks... The occasional "are you gay?" With a quizzical look of disgust.
Well, to answer your question, no, I am not gay.
In a society built around judgment and stilted above common sense,
Being gay would mean that I'd have to find women utterly disgusting, flick my wrists, speak with funny and awkward inflections, right?
Do you think I speak with funny and awkward inflections?
Good! Because I'm so not gay.
Being gay would mean that I love to shop, well I hate it!
My fashion sense does not exceed that of a box of colorful crayola crayons melting away in the blistering Las Vegas sun because you see, I don't live in San Francisco, or New York,
or anywhere "gay" people live.
I am not gay.
Being gay would mean that I am immoral but I can assure you, moralistically speaking, that morals are what keep me routinely from listening to Lady Gaga, who I've heard, despite her catholic upbringing, is a devout devil worshiper and I sure as hell don't worship Satan!
Oh no, I am not gay.
My father once told me, in his manliest tone that if I ever became sweet
or my tank profusely filled with sugar
that he'd disown me and rid me of his home.
However last time I checked,
I don't have a tank
and one lick of my tanned brown skin would reveal that I am in fact quite salty!
Salty, as defined by Urban Dictionary, means to be ******.
Bitter. Angry.
Well father, there aint nothing sweet about my wrath.
I'm infuriated.
I'm angry not because I'm not able to fulfill the holistic criterion society has built in order to be gay,
No, I am more upset that there is actually a set of rules dictating whether or not someone is gay.
Now listen to me when I tell you,
I am not gay
I am not gay because I have yet to inject myself of substances with an unsterile needle for all purposes of getting high.
No, I have yet to discover my last ****** partner was diagnosed with *** and that I may very well have the virus.
No, I have yet to interiorly decorate my bedroom with the warm crimson fluid that is my blood because some punk at school thought it was cute to label me a queer.
I have yet to be gay because being gay in today's society means I am reckless. I am promiscuous. I am a *******.
Well, guess what society,
I am not gay.
I am, in fact, a man, who is not your personal show dog for your fashion approval that you can tote around in some cute Gucci bag.
I am a man, who can still appreciate the beautiful magnificence that is a curve when he sees one no matter the person's gender.
I am a man who, despite what you may be expecting,
is a man who, no matter how hard you try to box me in a confined image,
is a man who, will fight to freely be in love with who he wants to be in love with,
who is a man who is not gay
but a man who loves men.
I am not gay.
..

Totally gay.

#gay #lgbt #lgbtq

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