Best 1St Grade Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best 1St Grade poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of 1st grade poems written by PoetrySoup members
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New 1St Grade Poems
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For our 1st grade Teacher
by Degenhardt, Michael
Bubbles (My First Poem--1st grade)
by Flagler, Jazmen
View all new 1St Grade Poems
The Best 1St Grade Poems
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1St Grade Poem
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It rained the first day
It rained the last
Tears fell each time
It’s moving too fast
So many days in between
Victories and regrets
A painfully beautiful time
Another giant step
Once again, I sit and reflect
As the crying sky mourns
I realize how helpless I’ve been
Starting the day they were born
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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I wrote you a letter,
and then another letter,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a word.
So I wrote you a word,
and then another word,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a sentence.
So I wrote you a sentence,
and then another sentence,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a letter.
I hope it finds you as I found you.
Yours truly,
Yours, truly.
Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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MY CRAZY CREATURES
This rhyme's about creatures of various sorts.
Creatures with fangs, hairy bellies and warts.
They cause lots of mischief all day long.
Mum always blames me but I’ve done nothing wrong.
These creatures are crazy. They’re not what you'd think.
Turn over the page. Find out more in a blink...
The first is Belcher. He really does stink.
He lives in the toilet and plays in the sink.
He likes to be naughty when nobody's in.
He cannot be found when you're searching for him.
Dad always moans when he sees all the stains.
I tell him it’s Belcher, “He’s done it again!”
Two thinks that she’s pretty, but really she’s not.
She has warts on her face and is covered in spots.
She has a big bottom and six hairy feet.
Her name is Ghastly. She’s really not sweet.
She steals mum’s lipstick and paints her mouth red.
She tries on her dresses, throwing clothes on the bed.
As soon as mum enters she’s so quick to flee.
I guess that’s why my mum always blames me.
Number three is so quiet but I know that he’s there.
He smudges my face and puts glue in my hair.
I call him Hush Monster as he follows me round,
Putting mud on my clothes without making a sound.
I aim for the paper but the pen marks my face.
Mum looks at me glumly, "You're such a disgrace."
I try to tell her that it just wasn't me.
"It was Hush monster, Mummy. Why can't you see?"
The worst of them all is a creature called Doom.
I'm always in trouble when he's in the room.
He often burps loudly when we're eating our food.
Mum frowns with disgust. "Now, don't be so rude!"
He cackles with laughter whilst spilling my drink.
"Be careful," shouts dad. "Don't you ever think?"
You may well wonder why he's never been caught.
Well…he's the size of a pea and he’s very well taught.
He rolls under the sofa after doing things bad,
And I look to my parents who seem really mad.
These crazy creatures I like the best.
I’m glad I could share them with you and the rest.
Belcher, Ghastly and a monster called Hush,
Then don't forget Doom. They all make me blush.
They live in my house and like to cause bother,
Driving everyone mad, especially my mother.
They’re experts in mischief. They get me in trouble.
Now I’ll tell you a secret that may burst your bubble.
Whilst these creatures are crazy it has to be said,
They don’t really exist, “They’re all in my head!”
Copyright © Andrew Pollard | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Shotgun shells, fireworks, an empty casing,
Burnt gunpowder sensed with imagined smell,
Bring a smile as the mind begins onward racing,
Of times past and grand stories to retell,
Hunts to remember; 4th of Julys raising hell.
Even the repugnant is remembered with glee,
Fresh swine manure upon beds of loose straw,
Time on the farm, a boy’s life lived carefree,
Fishing, hunting, and building with grandpa,
Learning gun safety and how to hammer and saw.
A favorite to this day is corn cut fresh,
Dust in the air with stalked rows piled,
Behind the red tractor and an 8 row thresh.
Memories overflow of that innocent child
Of the fun that was had, a boy in the wild.
Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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TEACH THE CHILDREN THE ALPHABET
A Dedication to Child Advocate Poet Teacher Eve Roper
It's up to us, the parents and other adults
What has happen to the village
Caring for children is an honor and privilege
teach the children the alphabet
so they can build the words
teach them how to read sentences
so that they can read God word
It's up to us, the parents and other adults
What has happen to the village
Caring for children is an honor and privilege
it's the fathers, mothers, grandparents
-our teachers and neighbors
we all have a commitment a service
-to teach the children
so they all understand learn how
-to praise the Lord
the world would be so much better
-if we teach the children the letters
to form words, read the words from the bible
-to learn about God and Jesus Christ
It's up to us, the parents and other adults
What has happen to the village
Caring for children is an honor and privilege
So let us TEACH THE CHILDREN THE ALPHABET
Dedication Poet Eve Roper
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©
4/18/18
Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.
Never mind,I am the only place of
my heart away from this heart.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
Speak or say no,but I will still speak.
I have live for you only how I left you.
In the whole world, i am only wishing you.
Do not ever tell me,you forget me,
I'm not going to listen.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.
Never speak that moon will ever be
separated from the moonlight.
Is anyone ever happy to lose his life?
This is what I want for you,your loved once.
Never mind, I'm the only place of
my heart away from this heart.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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My wish is that you are my heart's love.
My happiness is only from your happiness.
More than you and no longer I love someone.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.
I love you,I will go from this world.
As long as i will live sweetheart,I will love you.
My life is all over now,it is only for you.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.
My heart is my pain,you know it.
The thread of my breath's necklace is tangent to you.
Relationship is like this,whose rupture is not approved by
I will settle for you in my breath.
Without you,I will live a moment now.
I have strong sense of you.
You are my comfort to the eyes.
I have won by seeing you and this is my job now.
No more than you and no one is my wish now.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Sure.
Ketchup.
Pickle
Horseradish too.
Mayo
Lettuce?
That’s up to you.
Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?
A touch of butter
A slab of bacon.
Please put them on
If mine you’re making.
Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Land of Dreams
Candy-colored beams
Tree streams of Yellow Lemon Dew Drops
Red, Green and Blue Gumballs Cars
The path to Rainbow City covered with Peppermint Boat Docks
Sugar Cane Boats floating thru a Chocolate covered River
All sorts of Colored Coded Candy, that is sure to please
A little boy and little girls wish would sure to have a Candy Land Adventure in the
Land of Dreams
Copyright © Migdalia Torres | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Time for this girl to cuddle up bed..
But of course after two, I sleep like dead.
I try hard to get my beauty sleep..
but number of thoughts at a time creeps.
Sometimes left and sometimes right...
Then come into mind, my bro’s fight.
Miss those night of romantic chat..
Which slowly turn into a verbal spat!
Some memories brings tears in my eyes..
Yup, the eyes which makes you hypnotise!
Tell all thoughts to get a grip..
again, cross my mind, that school trip.
Miss those love which knew no bound..
yeah, the same, that gave me wound!
This way and that, I frown and see
So, there is no one left but me..!!
Copyright © Hadia Faisal | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Cat
Kitty
Licking now
Hairball. Hairball.
Move Yourself Quickly
Foul thing comes out.
Disgusting
Hairball.
Cat
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Love In The Library
by Edmund Siejka
( East Of Seventh, poems by Edmund Siejka available on Amazon)
He was a scrawny kid
In 1st grade his lunch money
Often disappeared
By the 5th he was street wise.
Mother worked in an office
And Dad assembled radios in a factory on the West Side
On his own most of the day
He had a choice
Of going to the Boy’s Club
Or the library
For some reason
The library became his favorite place
A place of books and knowledge
A place of hushed voices
Bespectacled librarians
Hard wooden chairs
Light maple rectangle wooden desks
Marred by carved initials
Grownups
Reading
Sleeping
Or glancing at their watches
That’s where he met Susan.
She was twelve years old
A year older
A little taller
Red hair and freckled face
Aggressive
Attractive
And smart
She asked if he would walk her home
To a tall apartment house
On 12th Street
Bricks the color of pale mustard
Leaving her by the lobby elevator
He listened to its muffled sound
Gliding effortlessly
To a place he was never invited.
In the privacy of his room
He dreamed of her
Incessantly
Clutching his pillow tightly
Making believe it was her
Blood flowing
Roaring sounds in his ears
Dreaming that they were always together
Holding hands.
She, wearing a starched white shirt
Carelessly unbuttoned
Looking deeply into his eyes
As he leaned forward to kiss
Her with every passion he could muster
That Spring
His days were inspired
With dreams of her.
One rainy morning
Awakened by familiar kitchen sounds
He wandered in
Yawning
Arms folded
Fighting the morning chill
As a feeble day
Silhouetted the rims of the fire escapes
And the sea of blacktopped tenements.
In the misty light
Among the empty rooftops
She danced in the air
Her body turning
Twisting
Spiraling away from him
A fixed smile on her face
Mocking,
Mocking,
Mocking him.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2015
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1St Grade Poem
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He last had a pal in the 7th grade,
They shared a class from the 1st grade.
And together, for Home Economics,
they were always late.
But the seventh grade showed up, in its
claws it held their un-anticipated fate.
For death's heartless might had
snatched away the pal's dear moter,
The lad watched as he packed the
boots that both their feet knew.
Off he went to unknown horizons.
"I will write", is all he said.
And so, at the post office,
the lad became a familiar face.
"He never forgot me", he convinces
his lonely self everyday.
The 12th grade is his current stop.
He recently acquired a harmless infection-hope.
So, while he dejectedly kicks innocent pebbles
in the streets he's quite hopeful that the other lad, his pal,
will write..........or maybe tweet.
Word has it, though, that the pal was
seen somewhere.
He was wearing a black suit...
Word has it also that he couldn't make a conversation.
Instead of his trademark smile,
solemnity had found a home in his face.
There he was, stone dead.
"Maybe, just maybe, he will write",
thinks the nameless lad as he kicks a
couple of innocent pebbles while he threads
on one rugged path towards home.
And tomorrow he's going to the post office.
Copyright © Cebelihle Mbuyisa | Year Posted 2013
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1St Grade Poem
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L ittle voices, rising in volume and pitch
I mploring teacher, begs all available aids to help pop
C oats, hats, muffs, mitts, sweaters, gloves, socks, shoes, and boots on 39
K indergarten urchins who are galloping around the room, or jumping on ball
chairs.
E veryone is excited; the snow is falling and
T he five-year-olds woke up screaming with excitement,
Y elling their head dendrites off, dancing and galloping
S ix ways to Sunday, and it’s only Tuesday,
P rincipal skates into the room, “Lickety Split!” she yells.
“L et’s all help, and get them out there quick!” The 2nd grade teacher sticks in
her head to hollar,
“I ce will be here within the hour. Everybody help.” A bunch of 4th and 5th
graders run in to help dress
t hem. Seconds later, the worn-out Kindergarten
Teacher throws out a magic lasso, and 39 kindergarteners all grab hold. The next minute, they
land in a big snow drift.
“Lickety, lickety, yickety, bickety, pickety, split!” they all yell, running away in every conceivable direction.
Prepared for Lickety Split Contest
Debbie Guzzi Written 4-9-2018
Unless it’s closed, then just for fun!
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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After sixty-six years, what remains of first love
Is just your name really, but still it lingers,
Like the fragrance of a rose petal kept in a diary.
It may seem strange to some, but I do call it love
Though we were only 1st graders, wishing on a star.
At recess you were Dale Evans
And I was Roy Rogers, as I recall,
There was a commitment of sorts for sure,
Our fantasy roles of a future adulthood
Already including both individuality and marriage,
What we knew of heart freely given.
It was clear that others wanted what we had too.
I’m sure that was part of its appeal.
I remember clearly that at least one time
You and your mother came to my house and
I proudly showed you the playhouse that
Mom and I had constructed on our front porch
Out of old appliance cartons from Dad’s store,
Their wood ribbed cardboard panels perfect
For erecting sturdy fantasy structures
That resembled a real house,
Windows and doors carved easily where desired
Using a paring knife in the softer cardboard.
I know I wanted to kiss you and think I told you,
But, I am also pretty certain that it didn’t happen.
I suspect you told your mother, for I believe it was
Your last visit, though I don’t regret wanting the kiss.
And then you just vanished from my life,
Your family moved away, to Freedom, Oklahoma,
Which was like going to the moon at our age.
I discovered this only recently from another friend
Who was also enamored of you. Know for sure that
We both hope you found freedom,
Even sixty-six years later, and still dream
That you, perhaps, think fondly of us as well.
May this poem compensate somehow for the kiss
That you and I both missed, as I honor too,
The young boy who first gave you his heart.
Brian Johnston
October 11, 2015
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2015
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1St Grade Poem
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Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles
Pop Pop Pop
Out of The Window
Drop Drop Drop
Small or Tall
I Love Them All
Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles
Pop!
Copyright © Jazmen Flagler | Year Posted 2007
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1St Grade Poem
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Why love me with a betrayal?
Immature was just me,who believed to be?
But his promises were false and
all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?
I lost heart too,at the time of doing it.
But the thousand pieces of my heart made it.
Because his promises were false and
all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?
What will she do to heart?
What will she recognize in love?
No one who loves her heart.
She is unfaithful.
She does not love.
Why love me with a betrayal?
Immature was just me, who believed to be?
But his promises were false
and all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Two little girls stand dream by dream
unaware of what their feelings mean.
The instinct to laugh and play
often leads them inside on a Sunday
where two imaginations see spun
what innocence befits be done.
The long years go by so very slow
they're sure it takes forever to grow.
What should Barbie wear today?
Should she talk to Ken?
and
If they saw each other naked
would it be a sin?
Pretend cooking for little Mama
(her breast is just stuffed socks)
while acting Daddy reads and rocks.
Acting out their sure adult dreams,
they imitate life as it seems –
a wonderful grownup scene.
Innocently they play out future goals,
unaware of time's mark on such roles.
... CayCay Jennings
August 31, 2015 (written 11-78)
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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1St Grade Poem
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B Beautiful fairy-like creatures arrive, disguised.
U Until spring arrives,
T They are known as the butterflies.
T They flit from bud to bud
E Every blossom gets loved.
R Richly blessed by these beauties, who
F Flit rapidly from flower to flower
L Lilting, landing momentarily
I In gentle quick repose
E Each uniquely designed and colorized
S Seen by many, touched by few
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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When life began to live,we did not know anything.
What is to be done,what was to be done,
did not we also have it?
Was the head of those parents of the hand,
those who got it was also born.
Gradually enlarged we,we now stranded the world.
We learned to earn money,teach the house to run its on.
Learn to handle even those who have brought us here.
Teach to raise the expenses too marriage and wife.
One day came my sadness,when by parents.
I got my hands off.
Going to that day when this gum broke on me.
Now,I also have to give pleasure to my children
by becoming a shadow.
For me, all life is for me now.
All I have learned from life I have to give them to.
My dreams is now,they have to suffer all for their own sake.
It is just that I have to say this is the journey of life.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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In love from you,got it distances.
And the heart is relaxed in you.
In love from you, got it distances.
How do you leave separately?
You do not even come to meet us.
What do you find us by giving pain?
But in the eyes tears are yours love.
Yet from us why this is your distances.
Do not grieve,knowing you.
In love from you,got it distances.
And the heart is relaxed in you.
How much do you wishes from my heart?
For the sake of you,you see,honor.
Do not love,away from you know.
Just do love you ,my heart stays.
In love from you, got it distances.
And the heart is relaxed in you.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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My heart is troubled,
my love is afflicts you.
Even then you say,
luck has given us to you.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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Blooming spring is the same your face.
Nature is of first you.
To say what,not the words.
Something like that,form it yours.
Blooming spring is the same your face.
Nature is of first you.
A heaven is near that lord.
Whose works this world is looking for.
And a heaven now,I have.
Now that you are the example.
No one,take you away from me.
Keep hiding you now your face.
Yes you love my heart.
Blooming spring is the same your face.
Nature is of first you.
Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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An Icy cold, sweet treat.
Often starts with vanilla, cookie cream,
Chocolate, java, mint, but things cold down fast.
Sprinkles, brightly colored warm gummy candies, and almonds
Replace the cherry on the top we used to think was so all that.
Back in the day, I used to visit my sister when she worked in a place that
Sold this delicacy. Polly’s, red and white striped awning, Red counter tops,
It was always packed on Memorial Day, and the 4th of July. During the winter Polly’s was closed, saddening me, especially in the spring when it could have been open a little sooner, to , delight those of us who loved her offerings so. My special concoction was a Carolyn’s special, which is a butter pecan with hot fudge sundae. Oh, my goodness, I remember this diabolically great taste, as if I had eaten one a few minutes ago. When in actuality, it was over fifty years ago. I’m salivating right now thinking about that sweet small town, America, lovely icy taste. I don’t think I’ve had that taste in fifty years. Who could forget it though? Or orange or pink Sherbet, that tiny, shocking first bite? Remember those Instant headaches before we knew better? My teeth shudder at the shaking brain syndrome caused by letting this darling hit my palate too fast, without warning. Two scoops? Are you kidding? Were y ou not listening? I can’t stop shuddering, and I’m eating a sample! I had a petite affordable sugar cone, whereas you chose the ostentaciously diamond-shaped waffle. Why not make it a sundae? Or a concrete? No pun intended. The baby is pulling on The five year old’s arm now, and the five is
wailing. Every eye in the shop is now watching as the
Large pink freezing wad with the blue and green
sprinkles falls the four feet to the black and white
linoleum floor and there are many eyes here beca-
use it’s 8:30, and this place closes in twenty-seven
minutes. As the stickiness hits, making a giant,
resounding plop the place is instantly and miracul-
ously tomb-quiet. Then everyone springs into
action. Everyone wants to fix this, Seven custom-
ers, a grandma and an employee with a gray mop
and a stack of dingy blue and white teatowels runs
over and a new me is handed to the sobbing five.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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1St Grade Poem
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The scene is all too familiar
(Except for the purple sky),
Has this happened before?
Deja vu on the edge of a waking dream?
In another life,
Or maybe all funerals are the same?
The same ceremony.
The same casket
(Well this casket is made of Phantom-wood).
The same sadness, fear and joyousness,
from everybody that it is not
THEIR funeral.
We are all lined up
(Along the blue grass)
These familiar strangers.
They look like neighbors from past lives,
The lady next to me looks like
my 1st grade teacher
(Except she has five noses).
She doesn't seem to know me,
Why would she?
Didn't I used to deliver newspapers to that man?
(Except without the eyes in the back of his head)
Not in this life
Maybe that was lifetimes ago.
On the way in
I brushed past the doorman
(who looks like this kid I used to play hockey with,
except he is thirty years older).
But we say not a word to each other
As if we don't know each other
(or never did).
The funeral is sad and I cry,
even though I never knew the boy in the coffin
I cry because things have to end.
Why can't they be endless?
I cry cause death is heart-breaking
I cry for his family's pain.
And I am glad to go back to my world,
Where we never die and love is endless.
By: Joseph DeMarco
Copyright © Joseph DeMarco | Year Posted 2012