Kindergartener poems on Hello Poetry

Claudia Lewis May 2013

Sally invited you
to the very top
Of the jungle gym

She gives an encouraging "come on"
And reaches out her arm
Her hand
Spread out and facing the sky
You grab hold.
The corners of her mouth
Grow to the sides of her face
And her cheeks push up against
the bottom of her eyes
In the most reassuring manner

You turn your head
Towards the sky
And squint
Just to see
the top of the structure
Not an easy task
For a kindergartener
But you faithfully follow your friend
Under the bright afternoon sun

Classmates have shrunk in size
As you peer out
from the top of the jungle gym.
Sally swings up her arm
Her palm
Facing you
You match her gesture
And give it a high five
The corners of her mouth
Grow to the sides of her face
And her cheeks push up against
the bottom of her eyes
In the most reassuring manner.

I am at the very top
Of the jungle gym
With my friend!

"Try out the monkey bars"
Suggests your new found friend
In the most reassuring manner
So you reach for the first bar
Both arms up
Both palms forward
As you attempt to make the jump
Sally waits behind you
Both arms out
Both hands forward
The corners of her mouth
Grow to the sides of her face
And her cheeks push up against
the bottom of her eyes
In the most reassuring manner

Shock as you free fall
Your classmates
Multiplying in size
As the ground moves closer
Pain shoots through
Your body
And your mind
as you land
You are confused
Feeling hurt and betrayed
how could a friend do such a thing?
But then you realize
Your friend never invited you
To the very top
Of the jungle gym
At all.
The corners of your mouth
Grow to the sides of your face
And your cheeks push up against
the bottom of your eyes
In the most satisfying manner

Loewen S Graves May 2012

copper

heartache is
a penny, leaving
greenish glows
in the palm of my hand,
its slick caress a kiss
against the inside
of my pocket.

its weight yearns
like a kindergartener
whose voice
wasn't heard,
who knows
everything there is to know
about outer space,
something she can feel
wrinkling, biting a hole
through her chest.

and this tadpole heart,
it struggles and flails,
gulping to life
between words
it never knew
how to say.

silently,
somehow,
this monster
in my mind
falls gently asleep
with the tide.

at once i knew i was not magnificent
strayed above the highway aisle
and i could see for miles, miles, miles --

(bon iver)

Autumn Feb 2014

Shattered

I was once told a story
of a kindergartener
who slipped on her face
during class
and shattered all her teeth.
The teacher looked at the teeth
coating the floor
and told her students to
"Pick them up."

horror

Ellie Oct 2015

Untitled

Before you tell me I was, "asking for it"

Tell the family whose house was robbed that they too were, "asking for it"
Tell the boy in the hospital that the drunk driver, "didn't mean it"
Tell the grandmother whose car was stolen that she is, "overreacting"
Tell the school that the shooter, "wouldn't do that, he's too nice"
Tell the kindergartener who is being bullied to, "get over it"
Tell the survivor of a hate crime they're lucky because, "it could have been worse"

**** is a crime too.
Start treating it like one.

Isabella Lopez Dec 2011

In Love with Words

I am in love with words.
We have been reduced to words.
To descriptions of our day,
To small talk,
To simple exchanges,
To hellos and good-byes.

I am in love with words.
I read them over,
And over,
And over again.
I move them around,
Pinning fragments together,
Forming sentences,
Paragraphs,
Novels.
I am like a kindergartener,
Building a collage of words.

I am in love with words,
At night the spaces between letters blur,
And form lines.
They paint pictures.

I am in love with words.
I hold them close to me as I sleep,
And I dream of tomorrow.

Anemone Nov 2020

Enough

When will we reach a day when we can rise above the hate?
Will we reach that day or is it already too late?
When we will just raise our arms and proclaim,
Enough?

If the right to bear arms is more important than the right to live,
why don't the children say,
Enough?

If the cage we put ourselves in is built on lies,
when do the people say,
Enough?

When in their dying breath, as the bullet reaches the end
and brings only the sweet embrace of death,
when do we let the children stop and raise the arms,
stand together and say
at last,
Enough?

When do we say no more?
When do we stop having to cry over the body of a kindergartener clutching their backpack tight?
When do we have to stop sending a child to a place to learn and tell them what to do if there is a gun or a fight?
When do we have to stop wondering whether today as a parent you say to your child your last I Love You and Goodbye.
When do we say we will not just lay down and die?

When do we say,
Enough.

#shootings #gun #enough #hurt #pain #stop

Dr Xijuan Angel Liao Aug 2021

One Place(3 Poems)

I.
To imagine and to colour in the universes ocean
They are kindergartener’s painting of the sea.

A quarter of circles spread over the space lines.
Off set, an uppercase ‘F’ shaped triangles covering the skies,
playing the role of FREE spirits, dolphin.

II.
He feels you, countless transparent mute wishes hidden at
the area composed by messes of oranges and pink. He is your day and night

Sunrise follows with dark dusts, that time has allowed and moments flow.
Listen. A sorrow broken guitar in an alley intensely flayed.
The spaceship’s magic fingers twisted with universe’s strings

III.

Enjoy dancing at an enchanted evening,
Space wings set up for lovers. He’s attached with symbols of variation

Desires are viruses. One worlds spins with two tragic worlds;
Lonesome. Ice and heat. Global war,
All those mysteries,spells, absurd truths

We are in one place.

*To dedicate to by Wassily Kandinsky

#wassily #kandinskyone #place #kandinsky

Rose Ruminations Apr 2016

Broken by the Fall

She cannot remember
The number of lips
She has kissed in her lifetime

She is strangely proud of this
Like a kindergartener with a new watercolor

Look at all the fun I've had

Her memories are filled
With smart men
Funny men
And beautifully attractive men

And some not

Wince.

They come and go
She tells herself
Feelings are transient
And love is too much work

And yet
She finds
The more lips she kisses
The more arms that hold her
The more wedding pictures her friends seem to flaunt...

The more that piercing pang,
That warmth in her belly
Wants a man to stay

And yet
She tells herself
That she's not allowed to settle
An old German man told her so

But somehow
It becomes easier and easier
To imagine a future
With the men that she meets

Is it desperation?
Is it desire?
Or is she finally looking in the right places?

matthew scott harris Apr 2020

Subconscious awakened courtesy deep sleep music

With eyes closed,
particularly after never
mine lips ne'er touching drink
I experience replete surreal visualizations

vividly pronounced heightened, augmented
mental journey virtual realistic brink
particularly the following link
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1ZYbU82GVz4

yours truly (i.e. me)
enters sweeping dream state,
whose (ahem this modest) great human
experienced way after hundredth wink
no mean feet recherché special effects
haint no rinky ****
trick the average kindergartener could think,
quite the contrary skeptical reader!

Impossible mission yours truly,
could never describe for dogness sake
no,... NOT even after I make
transition back into webbed
oft times trumpeted as "fake"
wide world of consciousness

mere seconds eyes of mine ache...
dumbfoundedly blink awake,
yet cerebral impact analogous
exiting hypothetical dark cave
eyes painfully adjust to light
no mutter me noggin I soberly shake

Socratic dialogue - described
even today (across swaths,
where silently occur
metaphorical tectonic Earthquake)
of college/university students far and wide
with mooch hoopla and rave
communicated, viz out fancy schmancy

rhyme nor reason courtesy
one cereal lactose intolerant flake
courtesy within Plato's Republic
(worth rereading even
non political science majors ought
to give revered literature fair shake.

'Course aye haint here to lecture
but moostly strive to enlighten
hmm... methinks most likely bore
extemporaneously spewing pablum
also aiming to appeal toward
self accomplishment less or more

before tonight April 23rd, 2020
becombs tomb morrow,
with unbeknownst notion I explore
which aspiration to craft daily poem
constitutes what endeavors apt (guaranteed)

to find thee into deep sleep
cocking mine ear to hear ye snore,
no matter bajillion miles away your
respective dwelling from mine -
now (at long last), similar to the night before,

(Christmas), I hightail out - with minor confession
where Matthew Scott Harris doth
strive to become substance of legendary folklore
(hence no need to utter vamoose)
with cheery bonjour!

— The End —