Poems about kindergarten



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№ 1184200

Fat Kid with a Cryogenically Frozen Fat Crayon from Kindergarten

Continued questioning of the unlovable hatred; my life's work is appropriately - indelible. These words are testimony to the conflict between who I am and who I wish I could be---

But... my understanding of infinite possibility seems to end while considering the black and white world that I create.

This dulling of experience is like the smudged remains of my most interesting work scrawled in pencil between the pages of old notebooks and scraps of paper.

I will chisel my own tombstone with a crayon frozen in dry ice.


crayon,  fat,  frozen,  kid,  kindergarten.

Author: Kam Yuks
+0-
Date: 14/03/2020


№ 1157497

Kindergarten in a Small Town

The cacophony of voices pushing and
Shoving, everyone seemed to be taller

Than I was and they all seemed to know
What to do. The teacher showed impatience

With my tiny body, frozen in fear by the
Giant circular stone apparatus where

Twenty children washed their hands. It was
Clear that she liked the kids whose last

Names were Johnson and whose parents
Owned farms on Highway 15. They all went

To the Methodist Church in Town. I wished
I was blonde with a raspy voice like Doreen.

I showed my plaid cotton tennis shoes and
Sang “Old Damn Tucker” while dancing my

Best country jig for show-and-tell. This was
When I learned that it was “Dan Tucker”

And that “damn” was a bad word. My daddy
Said damn, and he wore work boots with

Stiff golden laces that crisscrossed onto
Metal fasteners twelve inches up his calves.

The boots kept time when he played guitar;
His eyes and lips smiling and laughing over

Some absurd thought he had the temerity
To speak out loud. Daddy was the most

Interesting person I knew. He quit school
After 8th grade, but understood humanity

More than most. He wore cowboy boots
When he played the fiddle, and if he said

Damn, then it must be okay. I still felt good
About singing my song and proud of myself

For having mustered up the courage. I did
Not have fancy toys or artifacts from family

Vacations like the other kids. I had never
Heard kids call each other names before

I made the acquaintance of the school
Playground. It was strange how they

Ganged up on the boy they said was hyper
And had chink eyes. I did not know what

Either of those things meant, but I knew it
Made him sad and made me afraid to talk

To him. They said I looked like a ghost, I
Did not know if that was good or bad.

Doreen was not afraid of the ball, and that
Made her okay. My Mom decided to pick a

Friend for me, but I did not like Linda. She
Did not know how to play with dolls; she

Did not make up stories about their lives
Or pretend to be their mommy, she just

Looked at them. Linda was tedious. The
Boy with chink eyes made more sense

To me. He lived in the yellow house that
Had a dog who would bite and scare

The nice people away. I finally talked to
Him in 6th grade on the hour long bus rides

Home. Once, an older boy named John
Snapped a rubber band on his eye over

And over until it swelled completely shut,
My friend just sat and took it until the

Bus driver intervened. John's older brother
Played with guns, and John was scared of

Him, and older brother was scared of father.
We hated when the brothers rode the bus.

I decided that most boys were mean and
That to be a boy must be terrifying. One

Year, chink eyes almost drowned during
Gym class, the other kids said he tried to

Kill himself. They thought it was funny.
Girls will never know the horrors of the

8th grade boy's locker room. When he
Was 15 he crossed in front of a semi on

His moped, they found his foot half a mile
Away from his body. I wonder if the kids

Thought that was funny too. I was too
Afraid of my emotions to go to the funeral.

Ghost to Chink Eyes: I am sorry that they
Hurt you Vincent, and sorry that I am

Scared to see your innocence reduced
To road kill in a coffin.


kindergarten,  small,  town.

Author: Diane
+0-
Date: 19/02/2020

№ 1085927

Kindergarten Lessons

He grew up around booze
Bottles and cans thrown 'round
He calls them his holy water, now
Been a long time since Church
We watch him slowly progressing his death
The bubbles quickening the pace
He drinks till he's out
Till I can't see the heart behind his eyes
A new man kicks in
This ain't the dad I know
All the booze finally got to him
He drank himself to death
I guess too much of a good ain't a good thing.


kindergarten,  lessons.

Author: The Broken Poet
+0-
Date: 16/12/2019

№ 1003152

Kindergarten Physics

I played on a swing set today. It had to be the first time since I was twelve. I didn't even mean to, by that I mean it was an accidental event. Well, I mean I don't want to say it was fate or something, it just sort of happened. Like when you hear a story of how two high-school sweet hearts meeting for the first time except it's doubtful that you can achieve the same level of satisfaction from a pair of cold metal chains connected to a polyurethane seat. Well maybe, but you most likely would have to be sick in the head or something. I'm getting off track.

I was waiting for my friends in the park. They were running late so I had about a half an hour to kill. I noticed the old rusty rundown swing set, and I wanted somewhere to sit for a second. I was listening to some music, something by Modest Mouse I think, and I noticed, and I mean really noticed, I was on a swing set. It was nothing special by swing standards. It was old, that was a fact. It only had two swings left: one made for kids younger than three and the other for everyone else. Unfortunately I'm twenty.

Things started off slowly. A slow, steady rocking then I was swinging about a foot back and forth. I couldn't help but wonder when was the last time I swung. So I thought, what the hell, I'm not doing anything too pressing. I kicked off and started pumping my swing. I don't often experience a sort of tangible nostalgia but I sure love it when I do. I was splashed in the face with times throughout my childhood, if you could call what I had that, when we would try to swing as high as we could. Of course we didn't know about the limits of gravity and universal laws yet, we hadn't quite hit that brick wall just yet. But that's what made it so much fun; our ignorance of what governs our physical world made it that much better. Had we known what was to come back then, we just might have told Newton where he could stick that apple.

So using my previous knowledge of kindergarten physics, I was swinging like a pro in no time. It was exhilarating. I closed my eyes and lived in motion. Each swing was like the climax of a rollercoaster. Colours streamed across the dark sky under my eyelids. I saw blues and purples like Day-Glo brush strokes. Sometimes they exploded with brilliant oranges and yellows. I removed my ability to see for just a moment and saw my own personal firework display.

I remember when I first learned how to swing. It was during recess one day at kindergarten. Everyone knew how but me. Imagine how that plays with an ego. I'm not sure how I exactly learned either. I just sat on the swing set on the playground and just swung. Kind of like how a duckling has the intrinsic knowledge of swimming. I swung for the rest of recess. I felt like a god. I was the master.

I stopped moving and rode the pendulum out. When it all stopped I opened my eyes and welcomed myself back to reality. Back to gravity. Back to responsibility. Back to life. It's funny, for just a second, I stepped out of my life and truly lived. But back here, with my feet planted in the sand, I still remember my first swing. I remember the feeling, the achievement. It's for that feeling we fight in this world.

We all are just learning how to swing.


kindergarten,  physics.

Author: Will Storck
+0-
Date: 02/10/2019


№ 986188

Kindergarten Universe

Wish I could read every book
In this world.
Wish I could shake every hand
That hasn't harmed an other
Unjustly.

If only I could press that heart-
Shaped button for every poem
I read,
And inhale every poem of every
Poet that ever pressed one
Under any of mine.
And those of any that didn't.

I see gems with each scroll.
Bits of lives, heartbeats,
Some broken, some healing,
Some full of nothing but
Gratitude. Some filled with voids.
So many laughs. I wish I could
Share your every one
With you.

If I try to hold on to it all,
I'll lose my mind.
And track of my time.

I see poetry in every post.
Wish I could comment on them all.
Some I may not fully agree with,
But praise to all that write.

I have been gifted with so much
Response from so many.
I've tried to reply and thank
Each one,

But I am just one man.
A tired construction worker with
Band aids on every finger
At times.
Their tips hurt from sharp screws,
Hammer blows and rushed
Carving, then typing.
Head from digging in these
Second language parts
Of my simple Norwegian
Workman's brain.

Living a full, fantastic life.
One that I cherish
To write about.
To share. To express to myself,
And in the same breath
Anyone wanting to read.
I suppose we all carry some shade
Of that same feeling.
That's why we're here.
To share.

This site has been more than
Therapy to me.
It has been a home.
A sanctuary.

Some small, huge egos
Cry for fairness and attention,
Mouthing the three ugliest
Words I know:
What
About
Me?

But dark shapes in contrast
Create fulfilment within the art.
So what the hell, all balloons are
Mostly nothing but air. Anyway.

I hope I have inspired some.
I know I have made others feel
Neglected and unappreciated.
Well, it's a dance floor
Full of toes, and it's only human
To have a left leg or two.
Nothing's worth taking too
Seriously. I should know.
I have.

I'll still dance my heart out,
Laughing along with all others
That do. It's a Kindergarten
Universe. Play. Eat. Nap.

I thank you for every Follow.
Each and every Like and
Comment.
Every Collaboration.
Every Unfollow.
Every Block.
A full life is full of everything.

We are all single humans. Yet
Not one is here alone.
There's poetry dancing in
Your every
Movement.
There's life in every heart.

I love words.
I love life;
I love your every
Heart.


kindergarten,  universe.

Author: SG Holter
+0-
Date: 17/09/2019

№ 882167

Sent My Heart To Kindergarten

Fucker needed some remedials.
A b sees and one two threes.
Some tables and basics
Lasix... for a swollen ego.
We go.
We went
We gone.

A wash and wrinse... a manipedi. Exfoliate.
Real.
Uncluttered.
To the quick.

Too many lifetimes posing
A heart that forgot
The forget me nots.
Too many summer in the blazing sun
Many bone chilled winters.
Howling storms became the norm
Sooo. Gold stars and paper cuts
Elmers glue to start anew
Baby.
Kids need cookies and milk.
Hearts need to be gentle as spun silk.
Open like Dr Sues and simple.
Like popping your first
Pimple.
Simple.


heart,  kindergarten.

Author: Geno Cattouse
+0-
Date: 14/06/2019


№ 878013

Human, mankind kindergarten - a minimal haiku

Humankindergarten


haiku,  human,  kindergarten,  mankind,  minimal.

Author: Martin Mikelberg
+0-
Date: 10/06/2019

№ 806251

Kickass in kindergarten.

The following is a true story. Regular words are the teacher, the quoted, myself.

-----

Today we are going to play

A word association game.

I will say a word,

And then you do the same.

Yellow.

"Yellow. "

Blue.

"Blue. "

That's not what I want you to do!

Say something different than what I say:

Cup.

"Up-cay. "

Plate.

"Late-pay. "

Book.

"Ook-bay. "

Pe ­ncil.

"Encil-pay. "

Okay...


kindergarten.

Author: Victor Thorn
+0-
Date: 06/04/2019

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