Best 1St Grade Poems | Poetry

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For our 1st grade Teacher by Degenhardt, Michael
Bubbles (My First Poem--1st grade) by Flagler, Jazmen

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The Best 1St Grade Poems

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A letter

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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Love In The Library

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
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
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
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 
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
Spiraling away from him
A fixed smile on her face 
Mocking him. 

Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2015

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Nameless Lad

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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Ode to Verde Lee Allen

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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Bubbles (My First Poem--1st grade)

Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles 
Pop Pop Pop
Out of The Window
Drop Drop Drop
Small or Tall 
I Love Them All
Bubbles Bubbles Bubbles

Copyright © Jazmen Flagler | Year Posted 2007

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First Grade Innocence

Two little girls stand dream by dream
unaware of what their feelings mean.
The instinct to laugh and play
takes them inside this Sunday
for shared imagining to be done.
The years go by so very slow.
They wonder when they will grow.

		What should Barbie wear today?
		Should she talk to Ken?
                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.
They imitate life as it seems –
a wonderful grownup scene.
How innocently they play the roles
they now believe to be their goals.

... CayCay Jennings
August 31, 2015 (written 11-78)

Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2015

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Going to a Funeral in Another World

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

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For our 1st grade Teacher

A gardener you are, for we are the plants
With knowledge, you had watered us all
You helped us to grow, taught to withstand
Through your attention, you made us feel tall
Your job is now done, so sad, yet so true
So flourishing, we now understand
We wish to convey the message to you
That we are us, because of your hands
Thank you for all of the time that you shared
You treated and nurtured us, so very well
We’ll always remember the way that you cared
From teaching us math and then how to spell
Most of all, Mrs. Moffat, we’d like you to know
No other first graders can stand just as proud
For we had the best of the best and that’s so
And this we’ll all scream for as long as allowed

You’re the best first grade teacher anyone can know
May your life fill with happiness as each day’s winds blow

Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008

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Teenage love

There's a boy,
You can guess how this proceeds,
He feels you with joy,
Making you smile with ease,

Only he's out of your league,
You're ugly and gross,
Filled with fatigue,
He's more attractive than most,

When he smiles your breath stops,
His voice is what makes your heart skip beats,
But when the daydream drops,
And your eye actually meets,

You know he's the perfect one,
The guy you've been waiting for,
Only the stories not done,
You know he doesn't like you anymore,

You two just don't combine,
He's better than you,
He'll leave you behind,
You know it's true.

Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018

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If All Things Were Elephants

Heaven would crash on earth,
earth would crash into hell,
and hell would crash on Satan.

Satan would rot and transform into fertilizer for growing humans,
and humans would turn into preachers.

The preachers would turn into politicians,
and the politicians would try to fool God.

God would be an unclimbable mountain,
and the mountain would be hell. 

Hell would be the president of the world,
and that world is Donald Trump.

Donald Trump would be a pink toilet,
and the pink toilet would be the White House of America.

The White House of America would be Nigeria,
and Nigeria would be a glorified shithole.

The shithole would be the president of Nigeria,
and Nigeria would be a Nigga from Niger.

Niger would  be a deep sea without fish but contaminated water,
and the water would change into crud oil.

The crud oil would be used by God to cleanse the madness of the world.

…and that world is our shit whole world;
a word blessed with too many joys, wars and whores.

Copyright © femi joey oloidi | Year Posted 2018

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Please No More Beans

I begged my mum "don't feed him beans!"
I even said "please;" I wasn't mean.
"But it's dad's favorite" she said with a frown
"Now wash your hands it's almost sundown"
I watched her pull out a face mask and matches too
The day after beans she's always a greenish hue
Once dinner ends dad's performance then starts
A series of whistles and honks all made with farts


Copyright © Shadow of the Past | Year Posted 2018

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Luscious and Erika's Battle of Evermore

‘to the hills!  to the hills!’  screamed the floodgates of hell
entertained, unrestrained, little demons rang bells
for Tomorrow and Yesterday danced for the gold,
ever certain each reigned over Earth manifold;
parallel, lower Hades was high as a kite--
‘what a thrill it will be, a domain so contrite!’
as good fortune should smile, the ridiculous sang
in the ashes of victory, agony rang
with a message so clear that the zombies awoke
as the villages grew, callow humans too spoke
so in time, could long rivals upholster their fears 
by their union, dominion was something to cheer

Copyright © Lincoln Gaffney | Year Posted 2018

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Where do I get to go?
I have kept searching on the globe,
But no one to find as the best,
We broke into conversation at the river bank, 
It was our first time meeting each other's frank,
She was eloquent and good looking, 
"Is not too late,But I can't keep myself drank,
Only when the sun set will you see more feeling",
she said with a soft prank, 
On contrary,I took a chance of keeping myself afar,
As the taste of our conversation sprung into deeper enjoyment,
Time was also wearing an attire,,mum and sibling were far from resident,
Different thoughts were filling the mind,wanted to maintain good conscience,
Her eyes were longing for suspense, 
Her belly needed some food to keep her first,
Without wasting time on a desert, 
I brought her home for dinner and take some rest,
"Pls,can you get me a towel,...since I need to shower",
I immediately provided what she demanded,
After a short while,she returned to sit just on a couch adjacent to my seat at the hall verily, 
My eyes were attentively fixed on the tele,
because I was enjoying new music videos from MaliMusic,
Patiently,she stayed calmed,...waited for me to come through with logic,
Being negligent to her tactile wish,
Never did I know she was a lady with the heart of fish,
Within a tick of the watch,she pulled off the towel from herself, 
Her complexion was really ebonic,
But the thighs alone were seductive,which got a desirous panic,
My heart was beating fast,
...and indeed my hopes were all lust,
All that she said was,"show me where I'll lay down myself?", 
There was no other place for her than for us to share a bed,
After some minutes she lied down,
I later joined her from the bathroom now,
Immeditely she felt my presence on the bed,she reprimanded, 
"Lets pray before we sleep",and indeed she prayed....,
Fortunately nothing carnal was set if delayed,
Early in the next morning,she led a devotion for us two with spirituality relayed, 
Nothing will she say to guarantee who she was,than for me to say,"a Virtuous lady",
Immediately I said AMEN to a prayer she raised,
I realised everything was a daytime dream! 

Copyright © Anderson Walkingshoes | Year Posted 2018

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Yearing for your distance in love

Do not tolerate your distance now,
meet me today somewhere,
do not make me sad again
or tell me now you do not love.
Do not tolerate your distance now,

How many seasons I have for you,
staying tenacious for you,
now you also understand something,
remember you every moment
I have in my heart.
I do not cry anymore now
Or tell me now you do not love.
Do not tolerate your distance now,
Meet me today somewhere,

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018

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happiness 2

true happiness is to have 
no ambition
but to work like a horse
as if you have every ambition
immersed in the moment
detached attachment

Copyright © Francis Osho | Year Posted 2018

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Meeting at the Well

Meeting at the Well
By Valerie D. Staton
January 27, 2018

She trudged to the well for condensation
For she had a plethora of tasks;
She met a man who knew her vocation, 
He answered questions, before being asked;

She freely talked to the man sitting down, 
Who was Bearer of the “Water of Life”
Amazed by His report, she ran to town
Spreading the news, bringing others to Christ;

Enlightened woman served the Son of Man
Until Emperor Nero took her life;
She died a martyr - the Samaritan,
For boldly spreading the gospel of Christ;

Tortured severely then tossed in dry well
With Christ, in heaven, her spirit now dwells.

Copyright © Valerie Staton | Year Posted 2018

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Wait your love

Sometimes you will wake up,
will run behind us,believe us,
We too will know ourselves.
These things are my truths,
love is also my surety,
I swear at you,
you are the life mine,
Sometimes you will say,
this will open your tongue,
you will also speak to this world.
Waiting for me that moment,
at the moment of your expressing.
Sometimes you will wake up,
will run behind us, believe us,

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018

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O who will give me tears? Come, all ye springs, 
Dwell in my head and eyes; come, clouds 
and rain; 
My grief hath need of all the watery things 
That nature hath produced: let every vein 
Suck up a river to supply mine eyes, 
My weary weeping eyes, too dry for me, 
Unless they get new conduits, new supplies, 
To bear them out, and with my state agree. 
What are two shallow fords, two little spouts 
Of a less world ? the greater is but small, 
A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts, 
Which want provision in the midst of all. 
Verses, ye are too fine a thing, too wise 
For my rough sorrows ; cease, be dumb and mute, 
Give up your feet and running to mine eyes, 
And keep your measures for some lover's lute, 
Whose grief allows him music and a rhyme ; 
For mine excludes both measure, tune, and time.

Copyright © Lukas andrew | Year Posted 2018

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Normie, This Sounds Familiar


Daring stuck in history 	
for which he holds the light,  
loose with mind as sailed notes
Normie likes to type, 
up with a flip of screen…
UP…ten poems up  

NORMIE... WHAT?! (When there’s trouble you call in bubbled truth.)
NORMIE... WHAT?! (Let’s get creative.)
Morning comes and poetry 
Is steady on his mind
But he has to wait for time 
That number he despise
Nobody knows for sure 
This, not enough   

BOO! POW! (When there’s trouble you call in bubbled truth.)
NORMIE…WHAT?! (Let’s get creative.)
NORMIE... WHAT?! (Letters I write are sound, for…)

- Original Composition by: Philip Giffin 
  Original Lyrics by: Steve Nelson and Thomas Sharp
  Original Performer: Jeff Pescetto -                 


      Youtube instru:

Melody ain’t mine…so there, I don’t plagiarize, I prophesize
and I write…all of…
I’m playing with y’all

-I was watching Darkwing Duck on youtube and then…there was the light bulb, ding 
Normie, Darkwing you get it.-


Copyright © Normie Payton | Year Posted 2018

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When I see you
I tend to smile
Not all day
But for a while
I watch you as you turn around
I remember every single sound
I watch you as you look at me
That’s when I see your beauty
I start to frown when you look away
I guess away is where you’ll stay
I go into a dreamy gaze
In my dream I was in a maze
Having you would be my prize
If I get you is a surprise
Right, left, forward and back
Trying to trace my every track
Boundary here boundary there
Boundaries located everywhere!!!
I touch the side I touch the ground
I try to locate every sound
I hear the birds start to cheep
I only hear one other peep
“Help me, Help me” I hear ahead
“Help me, help me if you can.”
I knew it was her I could only tell
It wasn’t the place nor the smell
It was the sense of my crush in fear
It was a cry only my love can hear
I try my best I sprint ahead
If I was not with you I might as well be dead
I turn the corner and I see
The brightness of her beauty

Copyright © Lukas andrew | Year Posted 2018

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It was just a night class
Just before my exams
Just one night...

There was an angel amidst
Adorned in elegance and sparkles

This fascinating sight
At this unending beauty
Of immeasurable dimension,

Makes me feel
Angels also have exams
To write

Then I wondered
Even if they do,
Must they also come for night class?

A little ponder
A little drifting of thought
Only triggered my fancy

My Thoughts rolled
My eyes roamed
My feelings busted

Then, I realized
I was almost getting...
Entangled! I mean, Engraved!

Sparks of love
Blisters of attraction
Set my heart ablaze

Cause, beholding the unnatural
Was simply a blast

It was just affectionate
Having affection
For non-affectionate creatures

But here was
A quintessence
For the word "BEAUTY"

Little did I know
She was only human
In angel's clothing

Her name is... 

Copyright © Great Jaja | Year Posted 2018

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You are my dream desire

Your happiness where he is mine.
Your dreams are all,yes the truth is this.
Gives heart to love you.
You are the Lord, now my heart is mine.
Never have to separate from you.
It's just a dream mine.
Whenever I say in my lips, 
thy name is first i say your.
In your eyes are just love filled.
No sadness, no nemes mark.
Your love for only me is yours.
Nothing else want my heart.
You are the only one my desire.
Staying your world, just always with me.
Follow you,a shadow mine.
I see only you, every moment everywhere.
It's just a dream mine.

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018

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No Feeling and Not Appealing

No Feeling and Not Appealing

I had to hurry up and write
this down before I forgot this.

When I never show any of my feeling;
What I write and say is not appealing;
While rambling,
Was gambling,
On you disturbed hitting head on ceiling.

Jim Horn

What happens if I check off 1st grade in Categories.
Does this mean that I am writing at a first grade level
of inteligence (LOI) and am on the level?

Also Wharton School of Business is not taught at night school.

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2018

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Yarn In A Barn

Yarn In A Barn

While we were spinning a big ball of yarn,
What before my eyes did appear in a barn
Was weird;
Always feared;
Worn shirt with a tare did have to darn.

You could be like Trump telling stories
while spinning a yarn.

Jim Horn

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2018

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My Blue Cheese is Mom I Don't Like This

My Blue Cheese Is,  Mom I Don't Like This

"Oh, my wish is MOM do I have to eat this",
"My blue cheese is mushrooms must it be in my soup Mom I don't like it",
"Avocado's, Cabbages, you wonder why I trash this",
"Mama, I don't like this salads with green beans and lettuce",
"Bring on the ranch dressing, No tomatoes please";
"Don't like broccoli and yuk!, to blue cheese",
"And the taste smell of onions makes me cry",
"All them peppers too HOT hurts my mouth mommy, WHY",
"And who says "AMEN!", just before eating yucky salmon",
"Carrots are for rabbits, I'm not a hare anyway their to hard to eat I'm not lying",
"I'd rather have apple pie, a Snickers bar something sweet",
"I'm not embarrass I don't eat asparagus, HEY! Mom we're out of ketchup".


For  Contest:   My Blue Cheese Is...
Sponsored by:  Kevin Shaw

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2018