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Time may be elementary
moments lost in motion
Quiet periods provide
a power in between the lines
It's potency lies from within
Some gifts are given but not received
and hard to read for us to
see these silent signs
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
When I grew up
The first time
All of my world
Connected with a
Purple bicycle

My school, my friends,
My football practice
They were all there

And I was
Free to stay
Or leave

Whenever
Or however
I wanted

Cause I had my
Purple bicycle
With me always

And if Colin,
My twin
Said something

To make me
Cry again
I'd be gone

Power to
Control
Your location

Is an underappreciated
Freedom until you
Don't have it anymore

If Glenn Calvert's
Street was playing kickball
There we'd be

And Tony, Ben, and Brad
Lived close enough we could
Almost whistle to let them know

What I would
Give to have friends
I could laugh with
Like that in
These days

A group of people
I could get completely
Lost in time or space

With
Over and
Over

Growing
Without
Noticing

A single thing
Back
To the church
I'd wait
For
Mom
To pick
Me up after
School
Vexren4000 May 2019
Alphabet soup,
And phonetically sounding,
The voices of preschoolers,
Echoing a teachers lead,
Learning skills,
For something not yet known,
All that was known,
Was the comfort of family and home.
Did we know then?
Our sense of peace would be taken away to crookedly rot?
I suppose ignorance was bliss.


©BAS
Riley June Dec 2018
This is for both a bully and friend. They were like a tattoo I never wanted. Ink swirled under my skin screaming at me in victory. I woke up one day discovering this design dwelled in me making itself at home. How did this happen? How come no other kids had ink under their skin? That’s when they became a bully. When I got older the ink got meaner. Everything I did wrong they used against me like an arsenal of regret.  Elementary school became a battlefield and I always wore my armor. Children choose their sides not understanding the consequences each battle held.
Every morning they were there with more loyalty than a service dog. Every mirror was marked by them. Every student knew their name. And every day we would fight. Most days the fights were small and no one but us would get injured but some days there were casualties far greater than expected. This was not just a year or two of them being a bully but almost a decade of them being one. A routine developed where they would show up in the morning remind me they were never leaving and then wait for me after school. If I missed the bus they were sure to be there with me through that but not for support but as an opportunity to berate me.
They had a commitment to me that most marriages would be jealous of. No matter what they stayed by my side. And then I moved away traveling across many states confident I left them behind in the move. When school started I was nervous because I was new, and no one knew me. That lasted all of six seconds before I saw them again in the hallway. How the hell did they manage to cross six state lines to follow me and could I just disappear. The answer was no so we met again but this time it was as if they couldn’t remember me so this time around we were acquaintances.
As an acquaintance they were like a tattoo that you got done when you were sixteen, not quite what you wanted but it was better. This time the ink didn’t scream at me but talked. Their loyalty and commitment were both still their but instead of battles they became friends with others. It was weird seeing what they had become after so many years of torment, but it was nice to finally have some quiet. This didn’t mean I was completely free of all bullies however, I met new ones in high school that were much worse and far more cruel. After one particularly harsh day my once bully now acquaintance came over to help me stand again. I learned to lean on them and began to trust in them a little more after that day.
When high school was coming to close I still refused to consider them a friend never forgetting how much pain they caused me in my youth. And so once more we parted as acquaintances to continue onto the next chapter of our lives. This time around I didn’t cross six state lines but stayed in state. This was when I started college. I was shocked when I found out that they were to be my roommate I mean what are the odds of that? I still felt the ink under my skin swirl in a sort of salute to them. They remembered me this time around, but it wasn’t a bad thing. This time I allowed myself to become friends with them and we grew close. The tattoo was no longer a mistake but a well thought out decision that held meaning and color. They were now a friend that I could trust, and the ink didn’t just talk to me, but it sang. I want you to understand who they are so keep an open mind as I introduce to you……. my moles.
Lilly frost Oct 2017
If only things were as easy as 1,2,3
A,B,C
Like elementary
Arithmetic and spelling
Simple science
Gym was always stunning
Recess was revered
The swings were sacred
Writing on the jungle gym
Laughing
Running off with friends to play
Being enchanted by the smell of coffee and trees
Magic every second you breathe
Simply because you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be
Close your eyes
Now what do you see?
Darkness?
Dots of color?
Phantoms of light?
Remember when you saw dragons
Wizards
Whole worlds enchanting
When you walked people said it seemed like you were dancing
Remember when you were happy?
There was no worry about what to do
What are you going to be?
You had your whole life
Figure out what to do
Well what now?
What's your plan?
Too bad
Too late
It's not elementary
None of your dreams can come true
You're completely *******
Anya Sep 2018
In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?
Oh, Abernathy
How long has it been
Since we left school
And went our separate ways?

Oh, Abernathy
I still think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day

All the things we used to make
All the rules we tried to break
And they say that kids will still be kids

But, oh, Abernathy
The teachers are doing fine
They were smiling
When I visited them one day

And, oh, Abernathy
I hope you're doing well
Wherever you are
Whatever may come your way

Oh, the memories I hold dear
They have all but disappeared
It's both a blessing and a curse

Oh, Abernathy
My Lawrence, Abernathy
I wonder what you're doing
To this day

There's no need to be upset
Please don't sweat this stuff or fret
I only want to let you know

Abernathy, you're still on my mind
I remember your golden hair and your pearly eyes
Our friendship will never fade away, I swear

Oh, Abernathy
Dear Lawrence, Abernathy
I just pray to God
That you are still okay

Oh, Abernathy
I always think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day
For my primary school crush, Abbie, at Shepherd's Down School...

Heavily inspired by "Angie" by The Rolling Stones.

Sorry I missed Valentine's Day for this.
Maple Mathers May 2016
Marshall is the Only Thing that Mathers: Lessons of Elementary School

When I was in third grade, I found religion.

Well. Kind of.

My older sis brought a CD home one day - "The Eminem Show" - and explained how cool - how popular, rather - it made her. This was news, as the both of us personified the textbook social pariah - we were weird, or something. And kids made sure we knew it.

"Eminem?" I wondered. "Who names themselves after candy?"

Slim Shady did, apparently. Cannibalism, at its prime.

"Duh, stupid idiot! It's spelled differently!" Scoffed my sister. She loved to remind me who was boss; she had a ball making me feel even smaller than she did (I'd assume). A talent amplified by her superior intellect, which isolates her to this day. Back then she could do as she pleased, and I'd readily adapt. She was many thing, but predominantly, she was there. And I adored her for it.

She told me everyone had or knew this music. This Eminem band.

I listened till I could recite every track, verbatim. Captivated instantly.

The very next day, I came to school, ratty and grimy looking as ever (my mother hadn't taught me any different - for, I suppose, she had looked my way but saw only herself. Thus, I frequented the principal's office those days, teacher sent me from class every morning for disrespecting the environment.

Apparently, looking homeless isn't  acceptable - even if you're 9.

Anyways. At least I got to miss class.

Nobody would play with me those days. I had just one friend for all those years. They'd kick me and spit on me, lock me out in the snow, call me Spider.

Typical grade school semantics.

However, that CD was a game changer, I anticipated. Things were different. I knew about Eminem, and since my sister's peers were obsessed, mine would soon be, too. Thus, they'd finally play with me, wouldn't they?

Those were my expectations.

But. Conclusions drawn by a 9-year-old aren't exactly conclusive, it turns out. I approached a handful of children during recess. And promptly, terrified them.

Estatic, I exclaimed, "I'm going to hell! Who's coming with me?!"

I was beaming. For a couple seconds. And then Everyone ran, screaming and crying, yelling back at me with the appropriate intonations for a sewer rat.

I didn't understand why. Baffled nobody percieved my announcement as hysterical. And brilliant.

Yet, I got what I wanted, I suppose. Invisibility negated by taboos and vulnerability; I, the Satan freak, finally became interesting. Interesting enough to be picked on, and bullied.

It was an upgrade at the time.

Though, I had yet to understand why it'd occurred; the quote was hilarious to me. God meant nothing to me - "insulting" the lord, what did that even mean?

How would I know?

Alone, again, I snuck behind a tree and wrote all the lyrics I could recall - it was all okay, cause soon, I'd be home.

And home meant Eminem. Someone I could count on to be there. No matter what.

Funny how those same kids arrived at high school, and learned what a real bully can do. Bullies who never messed with me once, and never would. It's unwise to provoke a bee, you see - especially the queen of the hive. ;)

And laugh it up, but Shady is forever my religion.
Shady is My Religion.
❤️
Scott Horror Dec 2015
in first grade
i had my first crush
on a boy
who told me
that i was annoying
and to leave him alone

in second grade
i pretended to be a witch
and my friends
cast spells
and rode invisible brooms

in third grade
i lost a spelling bee
because i misspelled
the word cotton

in fourth grade
i started my first diet
because my sister
made fun of my baby fat

in fifth grade
i had to get an appendectomy
and when i came back
people remembered me
only because i was gone

in sixth grade
I started skipping lunch
to go to the library
and sit in the bathroom
and cry
until class started

in seventh grade
i pulled apart a shaving razor
and sliced the inside of my wrist
and hid the small line
with a bracelet
made of denim

in eighth grade
i cut all my hair off
with safety scissors
and i learned
that no one will date me
and that my lips will never be kissed

in the ninth grade
i smoked
and wrote
and stopped talking
because no one wanted
to know that i existed

and i don't
think i will make it
to tenth grade
my school experiences
Sandwiched in blankets.
Snoozing to the morning news.
Run! Another tardy pass.
A daily routine of my grade school days. I loved school, but getting ready for school was not pleasant. Good times.

John Archievald Gotera  © 2015
(This poem will be included in my upcoming collective katauta poetry ebook, Bubble Bay 28, which comes out this spring.)
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