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Em Glass Mar 26
Other kids think I love
you too much, and adults
tell us children, behave
because we aren't playing right,
arm in arm climbing up slides
or otherwise hiding with hands
where our feet should be.

When I was scared of other kids
and monkey bars
I would have been relieved
to see police tape
surround Fireman's Park.
Now again I look such
surfaces in the eye
and think: if you killed me
I would die
shelter in place day 11
Nigdaw Jan 13
when you're tired of the swings
and the thrill of the roundabouts
how's  another playground
gonna recharge your adrenaline

you survived all the bruises
and the scars have healed faded
so many tumbles trying
to push an unreachable envelope
perhaps it's time to appreciate the stars
rather than trying to reach them
to conquer the universe
Mark Toney Oct 2019
flipping baseball cards
in the flippin' school yard
pictures up, stats down
Drysdale, Koufax, Mantle, Spahn
or vice versa all around

retirement income source lost on the playground...
6/8/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - Back in elementary school we used to flip baseball cards on the school grounds.  Today, a Gem mint PSA 10 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle baseball card, may well be worth $10 million. Who knew? - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Amy Oct 2019
s
    w
         i
     n
g
me high,
s
    w
        i
   n
g
me back and forth,
s
   w
       i
   n
g
me so i can taste being free
s
    w
        i
    n
g
me away from the horrors of the world
s
   w
       i
   n
g
me towards the peaceful, clear, endless sky
s
   w
      i
   n
g
me back to childhood, where everything was exhilarating and pure
s
  w
      i
   n
g
me to paradise
s
  w
     i
   n
g
me away.
the only escape i have is in the park where i feel free once again, before reality of the world surfaced and snatched my innocence away...
Megan Hammer Aug 2019
Swinging in a hammock under palm trees, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we used to live.
Pine trees work together with the heat waves that bathe us.
My sister is playing the boys while they play basketball.
She doesn’t see that they are planning a move, but I do,
and I hope she’s got a trick up her sleeve.
At fifteen, she sneaks out every night,
out of the window with no screen.
She goes to see Michael who I don’t like.
I think he’s up to no good, but what would I know?
I’m just a five-year-old.

Swinging in a hammock, I’m taken away;
into a swing on a playground where we live.
My brother rides his bike with his friends,
and they talk about baseball cards and the next game.
And the grass is always greener when he’s around –
my mom and dad grab the camera and make the most out of today.
But my dad is not his dad, which bothers no one,
though my brother is always a little mad.

Swinging in a hammock, I wish I could be taken away;
into a swing on a playground where they lived.
I sit in dazed exhaustion from a long day –
there are no sounds of running feet nor voices chanting names.
There are no baseball cards nor boys nor basketball games here.
I don’t know where Michael is, and my sister doesn’t go out anymore.
My brother doesn’t ride his bike anymore, and his next game ended up being his last.

Swinging in a hammock, I stare with strange, confused longing
at the branches above me;
the branches that bend into each other against a clear blue sky
I have not known for a very, very long time.
Khoi-San Jun 2019
Boredom digs itself a hole,
its friends?
manages its soul.
A snare of despair
into the straits
of Hades,
Beware!!!
Idle hands (friends?) demons substance abuse suicidal thoughts snares death hades
Ek Apr 2019
Today someone said the word
“Swing”
And it brought me back to a distinct
Flavour
Neither bitter nor sour, but
Sweet
Like the cookies, you baked.

Every time I visited I wanted to
Help
Bake the neatest of cookies and
Play
Afterwards in the playground by your now
Old home
You no longer live there but I remember

Every childhood beath I drew
Exist
In that home, nesting in the door
Frames
Measuring my height and the brick wall where we used to
Hide
During those summer nights
astrid Feb 2019
Even as the golden embers of the Sun
sweep the rough surfaces of wood,
the rays command the light to twist,
to show the perfectly imperfect portrait of life.

Even as nature's breath let
the crisp autumn leaves sway with the air,
you don't cease your own little dance
within the children's sandbox.

Even as your eyes crinkle along the edges
with your nose crunching like a flower bud,
you seem as if you were Touch-Me-Nots
that found its way to become a Sunflower.

Even as we align like a seesaw
with weights that drift us apart to a distance, but
bring us closer to the equilibrium,
we would always be close but never quite there.

Even as I see you the way that I do,
even if my words won't reach you,
I write all these to let other seedlings know
of a special flower called *you.
happy birthday to *yoo. :")
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