Best 2Nd Grade Poems | Poetry

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The Best 2Nd Grade Poems

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He Was Once a Politician

That's not my elephant! my father said to me
Mine is pink with wings, funnily, he likes to eat spaghetti
I think I'll call him Ella, named after a girl I knew
We danced at the 2nd graders ball, her dress was so see through

My father was once a politician, until his marbles began to set
I visit him as often as I can, introducing as if we'd just met
But somewhere in his confusion, he can recite The Bill of Rights
And once he does he smiles, to me he can still delight

As I turn to leave, to wave goodbye, in his eyes I see a tear
Still reciting The Bill of Rights, smiling from ear to ear
With Ella from the 2nd graders, he smiles in self triumphant
As he points towards the window, it's not pink, that's not my elephant!

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

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Love is a bond

Love is the confluence of two peoples,
this bond is of two relationships,
one is way and one is the destination.
One of the hearts of both heart beats.
This is the bond of all their births.
Love is the confluence of two peoples,

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018

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Me And Nellie McGee

That's not my elephant, the barman said, when last I went a boozing 
Then threw at me a grin filled glance, that was a long way from amusing
You brought him here, you bring him home, your game I’m not abetting
So pack your trunk, get out, your barred, no more drink you’re getting

So sadly I made the long journey home, my poor legs weak as jelly
I could perhaps have caught a cab but they would not take Nellie
Later as we passed a takeaway, the warm smell assailed my senses
I ordered spaghetti and parmesan cheese, Nellie just had lettuce

My door key I could nowhere find, when at last I reached my home
I had no choice but to ring the bell, the wife Ella soon came down
Her words, would cause a crimson blush, on face’s of horse traders
I have not experienced such awful fear since I was in 2nd graders

She insisted that, ‘Nellie’, was but just, a figment of my imagination
And that if I didn’t get off to bed, I’d end up in prone prostration
Now I’ve lost my new best friend, and sweet alcohol fuelled nights
She’s taken from me the will to live. and rewritten the bill of right

4th in Contest, That's Not My Elephant,  by Matt Caliri

Copyright © Eamon Duffin | Year Posted 2010

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Arrive Alive

That's not my elephant!
The big grey one, standing in the middle of the room.
That's not my elephant, is that what I was thinking,
What I was thinking when I let her leave?
I knew I shouldn't have let it happen; she should have stayed the night.
Ella, my dear friend Ella, gone all because I didn't have the guts to take her keys.

Back when we were little, just barely 2nd graders, 
We would to talk about how we would grow old together.
Best Friends Forever.
We would stay at each others places every night,
We has so much in common.
Favourite colour: purple, favourite number: 4, favourite food: spaghetti.

How would I, How could I let her leave when I knew her condition?
We had been drinking all night?
Why hadn't I remembered the bill of rights?
The First Amendment - Freedom of Speech.
Why was I afraid to talk?
Why hadn't I just said "you're staying the night"?

I have a pull out couch, where she could have stayed.
Even my bed, in which she could have laid.
Ella, my dear friend Ella, I will miss you forever,
and I'll never forget.
Next time a friend plans to drink and drive,
I'll take their keys or call a cab.
To make sure that unlike you, they'll
Arrive Alive.

For Matt Caliri's contest "That's Not My Elephant"

Copyright © Sierra Cowan | Year Posted 2010

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ornament memories

I love decorating the Christmas tree
And lingering in ornament memories
A snowman I made
Back in 2nd grade
Reminds me of childhood glee and snow dreams  

Susan Burch

Copyright © Black Eyed Susan | Year Posted 2011

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Po-Mo Remix

That's not MY elephant!
A spiteful conceited elephant that ran away from the circus
MY elephant provides copies of the Bill Of Rights to all 2nd graders in Macon County
Considers fund-raising possibilities of selling elephant ears at Zippy Zoo Days
The kids will bring their white elephants and we will do a Spaghetti Feed
At RATS youth ministry--Can a mouse lift an elephant?
If you want to move a heavy load you have to use force
Where would you push?
For this lesson students used a triangular piece of wood
One side labeled Rights the other Responsibilities
Drop a marble in the balance (They used a 10lb. sack of potatoes)
Its all educational
But Barbar--You wouldn't catch THAT elephant playing jazz on his trunk
Not that elephant jazz in Austin  Jazz de Chang (elephant in Thai)
Playing with pink noise and changing the recipe  spaghetti
Too hot for a drumstep (bootleg) from the Elephant House
While Ella singing When I See Elephants Fly gazes over Matisse
The Nightmare of the White Elephant from the jazz series
Hanging over the elephant jazz bar  nu dark swing dubbles
Ella and Wave for singers a Nightmare autographed Artie Shaw
And the poet on each finger has  the following written
Somebody     Wanted    But    So   Then    says  Clustering thats the way
To do it  says  Glue the stick to the hand--Fulcrum
And then gives all the brats rides on an elephant named Bubbles!

Copyright © Desiree Kuri | Year Posted 2010

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The Mother

Sad hands
soft sighs
Felt a loss
Her son away now flies

Alone and feeble
A scrapbook on her lap
Because she can't get it back

Elementary Photographs
2nd grade
Proud of the Boy
And the progress that he made

High school Basketball
6ft 7inches tall
Mom took a picture
Forever displayed on Bedroom Wall

Son moves away
Just got married the other day
The mother called
Two voices had a lot to say

Missing Boy
Now D.A.
Time is gone
Then is Yesterday

Copyright © benjamin grimm | Year Posted 2006

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cast my now fate to an ill wind

Ever reliant placid pilled compliant nevertheless undefined anarchaic fool fk clandestined anamorphoric clumsy apparentless undistinguished negiligent aforthought defiant scopic blind congenital aborted panoramic distilled coherent brain dead dynamic stagnant democratic fascist positive negative here now there when arrow bullet bandage heal peace war earth wind oil gas life death pain heal forward backward null everything all present past gone love hate like live give take now then here now everpresent enigma allowances that predicate openly to an everbeknowingest art alien tied to an abridged hellhole of unforgivin nowness anti  for-lorn pre posture of work benign uncatagorized for an anti generic formula contrived of a nevertheless bastions less enlivened. Cap some either or, can't want of pour significant captured complete thereby enabled neither nor blissed by an unnoticed benign brand of human diligence.  Can u take me to a higher place unavoided? Neo nuptuial nill cast nominal predestined undone? Liquid capital indifference fluid non com in com copious defiant degenerate defined. See Dick, Jane, Susan, Betty  Spot; On Cherry Street my beloved. behind the coat rack renedavous in 2nd grade approval stolen kisses entities aborant. Stephanie Artist a new be race child of 2 lovers light but complected and only interested in that their child is equal. I fell in love right off and she died years later of LUK, why do I still remember a loss so far away? It's me. Sad, that a life ended so soon? I am in memory of all I have seen, known,heard and lost, for I know they are complete. 

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2017

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They don't know me

I lived out loud, so they must have seen,
But they don’t know me, no one does.
The few I let in, must not have been
The ones I really needed, 
I discarded them as lessons learned 
– to burn lest I get burned. 

My too-long life’s sad error was
Thinking that age would narrow the scope,
When looking back through dwindled hope,
I ken the opposite was truth.
Through backwards time I haven’t changed
But relationships quite early on 
Seem somehow more significant,
Like my earliest encounters went.

How well he knew my own true self
The 2nd grade bully who tried for tears
But got instead a verbal slam.
‘Cuz bully power runs on fears
And injustice made me mad not scared,
It sucked the air from his balloon
And left me stronger in my room.

The fifth-grade kid who rode the bus
In Special Ed. for poverty.
A family of 10 in a two room shack
Just two stops from our farm
He always sat alone – even when by journey’s end
Some bench seats had three kids in them
The teasing, taunting pre-teen kids
Would often say ‘He smells.” (he did)
His clothes were rarely clean
His body often lacked hygiene.
I’ll never know what made me ask to sit
That first time while those kids looked on,
But he said “Sure.” And moved his books.
And we were friends a full school year
Until I moved, but once while in the recess yard
Another bully taunted me – for playing with the ‘retard’
Notwithstanding his ignorance,
The gross misdiagnosis (and lacking sensitivity)
I won again the verbal spar,
and his bruised ego demanded physicality, 
So to the ground he pushed me.
Two hands, my butt and feet upon the ground
I sat in puzzled wonderment as my new friend took two steps up
And pushed the bully to the ground eliciting calls for teacher’s help
The duty teacher saw this last act
And grabbed my friend each hand to arm
Roughly shaking, while proclaiming,
Misbehavior yields punishment… and off to the principal’s office he went.
But I jumped up before he left,
Confronted the teacher with her unjust act,
And instead of justice I too went.

My life is filled with things like this.
Mostly short encounters and randomness,
But those are the ones who knew me best.

Copyright © Alison Wimmer | Year Posted 2017

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Confessions of a Bleeding Memory

At a young age, I lived a lot of adversities, 
I witness their needles and bent burnt spoons, 
I saw them inject their evil poison into their arms, 
and as it entered their blood stream, I ran away, 
not quickly for my life, but slowly to my dreams. 
I spent hours among the shaded walnut groves, 
pretending the vacant fields were my home, 
instead of the broken picture, 
framed neatly on the paper-thin wall. 

Today, these moments haunt my mind, 
I’I have tried to forget them – but instead, 
I forgot all my birthdays and my laughs, 
our trip to the beach … my innocence, 
but I remember vividly … her blood, 
splashed against my pale face, 
and then his hand ... 
taking its place back to the steering wheel, 
driving us slowly to the hospital, 
where my tiny blood-stained body, 
was exposed to a police officers camera lens. 

During those days I saw nothing of smiles, 
except those of the worn dolls I told my secrets to. 
I was so lonely at seven,
wondering where my parents had gone, 
at night I made dinner for my sisters,
then tucked them in for bed.
The sun would rise and I would wake myself up for the 2nd grade,
hoping that they would be okay without me. 
I look back at all the bruises & all the days of their blood shot eyes, 
All their sleepless nights and endless "hobbies", 
And wonder how I ever survived raising myself … 
I still remember every detail of every pain filled day of my youth, 
Except for maybe the day … the child inside me died.

Copyright © Robyn Pearson | Year Posted 2009

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We've met again, in hearts,
Before I resume to page you with what I have,
I welcome you to my desk,
Grace has brought you far to this late lap of expandable life race,
Where are we going to?
The map is missing, 
And will you mind being the next captain of this ship?
Taking speculation from this perspective,
I guess the sailing will end with expectations,
Multiple of waves come towards our direction,
It's very frightful,
Hug me firmly,and I will seek for safety,  
Day break on an island, 
Will it be fine indeed?
Why this question?
"Hurricanes,Tsunamis and its kind have made the journey more hopeless with panic", 
Watching the sun,there's a brightening face saying,
"Follow the directions I'm giving you,work with diligence and relax for the rightful moment,...the destination is closer than you think",
Pirates of centuries,...Hunters of years,
Penning down records of those past generations,
Inspirations are dugout, 
The passengers number is too much,
Noah's arch carried only seven persons, 
You're here,...I'm here together with him or her,
Feel the presence of a spirit around the ship?
Rectification to the star,we're coming close to a coconut tree,
Coins filled in a barrel, 
Call me the rich man on sea
Wanted to buy your integrity,
Suddenly,you've taken my birth right,
Lead us;the time is clapping for success, 
You're the Psychologist speaking of our existence, 
I'm the man who is theologically analysing our existence;
But we shouldn't fright for the same old story,
Look at the moon,it's now full,
I believe we're saved,
And of course,they are secured,
Some have stepped out of the ship,
We're still in here,
Crying everyday for my love one's makes me feel alone,
"Where are they",I seek always their whereabouts, 
Escort me to the kingdom of death,
Take the bold step towards it's ruler, 
Life is our prime pennant,and we won't swap it, 
Soon we'll be lost under the equator, 
Tomorrow is engaging today with pain and sweetness,
Wait,for I will serve everyone according to his or her goals,
Much wisdom,less talk;spoken with confidence,

Copyright © Anderson Walkingshoes | 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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Men Cry Too

Your late mother
told you "men don't cry"
stack by stack
you carved it into soul
you allowed it rule you
deeper and deeper. 

you bottled up like a ghost
against the thaw life belched
on you to bear not to complain
only if you understand this
logic ... "Men do cry too"

Childhood illusion: men don't cry
Peer's fable: boys don't cry
-Men do cry also
Wells of water do fall from
their cheeks.
They face troubles also
They face rejections and heartbreak
like you.

They seek for shoulders to
lean on every night
and pour out their souls
Into the dark loneliness because 
They feared to be called cowards

When tossed here and there by life, boy
Cry out for a hand
Don't be stuck in between 
Call out! 
There is always a vacant shoulder to 
lean on.

Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent 

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | 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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Crocodile Smile

They lynched the shores of Bayelsa 
with a strange tune which made the crocodile smile mischievously,
Then, it went on a deadly journey! 
The Cavalries arrived figuratively on
 a python dance with their amonition,
They cleared the air and dried the oceans, Mr President' orders said so. 
Next we saw, was skulls raining down
like water. 
Many bones cracked like an old clay Hut,
their bodies scattered mystriously,
cold blood shattered on a blazing ground. 
children wailed in flight
mothers ran helter skelter clinging their babies on their back... 
boys beheld the horror and shrieked 
girls went into hiding against rape
doom beheld the youths of Bayelsa watching the uniformed men do the crocodile smile on their land. 
Jets parading in the heart of the sky made them voiceless like a village wrecked by war. 
The ground quaked and the air cracked, filled with homicide fragrances that took away dreams.
Bayelsa 1999 came back again angrily!
Its death again like the days of Civil war. 
The Crocodile smiled in the south,
 people died in numbers and, 
the Python danced in the East, 
many skulls rolled. 
How did we play this music that brought   pains to our ears? 
Who did we kill his name in the dark? 
Why one sky if division is all we seek? 
Until this madness is cured and mental slavery dissolved, we will not stop this Cattle slavery soonest in our land! 

Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent 

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | 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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Copyright © thabiso xulu | Year Posted 2018

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Baba baba black sheep 
Busy eating thyme
Returning back to home 
Wasting lot of time 

Tom has his exam
But busy drinking lime 
Or may be eating his yam
Wasting lot of time

Police caught a thief 
For he did a crime
Robin is busy singing rhyme
Did not get his food!! 
Wasting lot of time!

All these who suffered 
Did not know what was time?
Remember time is a prime!!

Copyright © shirin mulla | Year Posted 2018

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This fact seemed pretty damn self-evident from just about birth on.
I seemed to inconvenience my family, especially my mother. 
So with my multitudes of half-sisters 
that refused to see me as anything more than just that,
my mother, who was exhausted and 
inconvenienced at the sight of me, my will and 
my troubled path, 
I was a real life Cinderella,
From     The      Start.
Since I was just there, 
my mother figured she might as well use me, 
to do her bidding.
I wouldn't be home for weeks and would arrive to an empty, 
messy house and a two-page list
of things to do.
Sound familiar? 
Just like a fairytale, huh?
So I ask, where's my fairy godmother,
and my glass slipper along with the Prince Charming, 
to make sure it fits? 
And my mouse helpers, 
to make cakes and dresses with me? 
Well I might not have a fairy godmother or a glass slipper,
and I'm still missing the damn mice,
but I just might have found,
My Prince...

Copyright © Lukas andrew | Year Posted 2018

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I asked mother, 
"who is a woman?"
She said, 
"a woman is a country that
Brings forth many colourful nations 
and states, unable to explore by all"
I looked into her eyes
Searching through for who a man is.

Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent

Copyright © john chizoba vincent | Year Posted 2018

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a funny poem for a 7 year old

                                  a  funny poem for a 7 year old

                              There once was a boy named...Joey
                    He sat behind a girl named Coye, yes he's a bully
                      Because as he sat behind her he'd pull her hair 
                              He laugh, and fell he didn't even care
                                              Cause you see
                                       In his hands was her wig
                       For you see Coye turns around smiles with glee
              As all the rest of the girls surrounds him, boy they were big


                       For Contest:   a  funny poem for a 7 year old
                                 Sponsored by: KEVIN SHAW

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2018

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My stomach starts to ache my hands start to shake,
As he draws nearer one last deep breathe I take.
My heart beats fast like never before,
The butterflies tickle and tease till I can't take it anymore.
I begin to tremble as he says hello,
I can feel the blushing of my face start to show.
By looking down I try to hide my fluster,
I reply to his greeting with a soft hello mutter.
With his face so handsome he gives me a smile and a wink,
As he turns to walk away my hearts begins to sink.
So sweet and so kind and he noticed ME,
I feel that he is the Prince Charming for me.
This feeling I have is more than a crush,
when I think about him I get a sudden rush.
Great chills shrill down the back of my spine,
Why oh why, I wonder, can't he be just mine?
In my thoughts he is always in shine,
I wish he valentine.......

Copyright © Manon Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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Kisses and hugs

I learnt this little game of love, 
When I began at school,
And I loved playing it with you then, 
I loved the lovely rule,

Of kissing and hugging one another, 
Where the winner gets all three,
I love the feast of love we did, 
A kissing hugging sort of spree,

You see, we filled the page with a lovely drama, 
Written all in pen,
Then, each time we kissed three times in a row, 
We began it all again,

Writing our kisses and hugs to each other, 
To pass the time away,
We filled up our entire books with love, 
And that was our school day.

Copyright © Lewis Raynes | 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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How can I penetrate into the blueness of skies
 Lurking there behind your eyes
Touch the cherry full lips
Tickle the most lusting ripen nipples 
Ignite your mature bosom
And hug you so tight 
Where your soul melts in mine 
And our entwined bodies
Burn on delicious smouldering fire
And drip drop 
Into eternal vanishing.

Copyright © latif dhmayd | Year Posted 2018