Best 3Rd Grade Poems | Poetry

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The Best 3Rd Grade Poems

 
Details | 3Rd Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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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Brother from another Mother

Met him in 3rd grade,
with me ever since then.
By my side in both my 
Pain and Gain.
Giving company in times of need,
sharing his joys,
in return for my grief.
Fight we did over petty issues,
to strengthen our our relation a whole lot more.
Shared all secrets ,
taking the blame for one another.
Over the year our relation,
has got stronger,
Rather sacred.
to others he is my friend,
but for me he is,
"My Brother from another Mother"


                   ~V~


Copyright © vinayak pratap | Year Posted 2013




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Matching Pride

(Veterans Day 2009)

Side by side, they stood at attention,
facing the American flag, 
former Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines.
Not one muscle twitched, nor eye blinked
as the 3rd Grader stepped to the microphone.

"Because of you, I am free," she said.
In a clear voice, she continued to express
her appreciation and gratitude,
for their service to their country, 
their sacrifice for freedom.

Though his legs trembled like Jell-O
beneath the knife-edge crease of his uniform,
Grandpa's pride filled his throat
as the little blond resumed her seat.

She had recited the entire speech
from memory, and later received
a note from her school principal--
Awesome job today!--
which now decorates the front
of his refrigerator.




Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014

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UNBREAKABLE BOND

I remember in my 3rd grade class our paths first crossed
You reached out for my hand instead you touched my heart
Since then we've built a bond that's unbreakable and shatterproof
We share our pains and we nurse each other's wound
Always looking out for one another in our times of need
So close we are we speak without uttering a word;
We share a language that's secret
We built a wall to guide our confidences and no one can breach it
I bring to you this moment my silent confession
Chiquita Chiamaka Baity, you are my very best friend.



Poem written by: Wole Francis and Chiquita Chiamaka Baity.
contest: Grab a mate and collaborate.
Theme of contest: Friendship.
Date:08-28-201


Copyright © WOLE FRANCIS | Year Posted 2011

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Unbreakable Bond

I remember in my 3rd grade class our paths first crossed
You reached out for my hand instead you touched my heart
Since then we've built a bond that's unbreakable and shatterproof
We share our pains and we nurse each other's wound
Always looking out for one another in our times of need
So close we are we speak without uttering a word;
We share a language that's secret
We built a wall to guide our confidences and no one can breach it
I bring to you this moment my silent confession
Chiquita Chiamaka Baity, you are my very best friend.



Poem written by: Wole Francis and Chiquita Chiamaka Baity.
contest: Grab a mate and collaborate.
Theme of contest: Friendship.
Date:08-28-2011



Copyright © ChiquitaChiamaka Baity | Year Posted 2011

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How To Write Pretentious Poetry and Meet Beautiful People

I am god. 
  
I have destroyed all that is evil, and all that is good. 
  
Remaining is the past. 
  
The past is so full of potential, don't you think? 
  
It retains your thoughts, your whims, your sins. 
  
Everything about you, in my filing cabinet. 
  
Every time you've lied, every time you've rubbed one out. 
  
I know every girl you've thought of. The guys, too. 
  
Your 3rd grade teacher, really? 
  
It's all in the past. 
  
It's all between my eyes. 


Copyright © Samuel Durant | Year Posted 2014

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That Dog

-Dedicated to Abby (written in 3rd grade, okay.) 


there was a dog
she was my friend
she wasn't "just a mutt"
she always came when you called her name
and she always looked left and right 
before she crossed the street at night
i loved her so much
but now she's gone
that dog was special
that dog was sweet
she wasn't a "mutt"
she wasn't a "full-breed"
she was my friend
she's still in my heart
she's still in my mind
she's sitting, listening all the time
always with me
always there
not always licking my hair,
but there.


Copyright © Natalie Copeland | Year Posted 2012

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School Days

Friends, teachers, buses, homework, and my parents made my school days my 
best kept memory.
Not at all was I the worst kid, I sat in class quiet and paid attention when we 
learned cursive.
While in my desk I sat behind Bria playing with her braids, she was the 1st crush 
I ever had while in 3rd grade.
They didn't show us films on MLK to advance but took us outside and learned to 
square dance.
See I got paddled in Elementary there was no fair chance or even maybe a ruler 
held by Mrs.Jackson's bare hand.
In my school days school made me a bad kid because I hung around adolecent 
athletes who loved to snatch and dash quick.
I didn't have s%@t no new clothes or nothing just long jeans in the winter made 
them cut off's in the summer.


Copyright © Bakari Wright | Year Posted 2006

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The Streets Of The Danged

I was a vampire that night.
My fangs were red and orange with candy corn.
My face was smeared white with sweat and paste
Causing a ghoulishly acrid taste to drip into my mouth.

My plan and curfew were quite clear, quite simple:
I needed to suck the mortality out of 4-7 9-year-old female virgins
And be back home in bed by 9:45. (It could be done.)

The week prior I had heard of an un-dead 3rd grader in Transylvania...
Sucked the blood of 100 10-year-old ex-girlfriends 
And still made it home for apples and cheese. 

Yet my own path of hallow'd terror
Could not commence unless I fixed the strap of my candy bucket.
I discarded the flimsy plastic strap for some frightfull-looking bungee cords,
For you see, I was not only the Ruler of the Night, winged and blood-thirsty, 
I was also a genius! (I knew where the tiny bungees were kept.)

With deadened grace I floated slowly out the front door
And into the tar-colored world of shrieks and cries and moms.  

I would show no mercy!
Vanquish all Truth and Light!
And always look both ways 
Before crossing the Streets Of the Dead! 
(And the Danged!)


Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2009

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Pablo, according to me, Part 1a

Pablo...according to me (Part 1a), read Part 1b to finish

Re Pablo Picasso printmaking exhibition at Bellagio Hotel's Fine Art Gallery.

(1) Left Profile of a Woman with Blue Hair
   The lass you slay here rebukes your dogma while submitting to greater cause. I wonder if her soul preempted her locks in route to this blue oblivion.

(2) Woman with a Yellow Necklace
  I don't blame you, I'd chase her too.  The untamed lass -- part figurine, part conundrum, part hurricane -- who pried, cried and tried your fervor until committing to the menu and after-party.

(3) El Greco's Portrait of a Man with a Ruff
   The patience you must have had, I never would.  Slicing, dicing, razors slashing this debonair freak, and from the misery of linoleum too.  Seems like you took 3rd Grade stencils, dipped them in the blood of barbarians, and chased it with a cocktail of speed, habanero grits and rancor.  Well done.

(4) The Painter and His Easel
   So it's me, watching you, watching this painter, watching and coloring the world in hope that someone is watching.  Eye drops, anyone?

(5) Reclining Woman
  If my wife looked like that on the sectional, maybe the dogs might behave, and I might get peace and quiet every once in a while.

(6) Head of a Woman Next to a Window
  The pink streak grabs my gut, saying trace my face with grace, then maybe you tackle what I see, what l need.  On that note, Windex ever?

..to be continued in Part 1b (because the Soup won't let me post it all here, ugh)...

(8/1/15)


Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015

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The Boy with No Words

He sits by himself,
Timid and Quiet,as if hes afraid
Afraid if he speaks,hell say the wrong thing..
They tell him speak up,they swear its Ohkay,

He doesn’t believe them.
He feels if he opens his mouth
It'll be like the Place..
The Place,he hates with every being of his race
Where if he speaks,hes quickly Shut Up!

Shut Up. Not just words to him
But a quick slap to the face
Fell out of his place,but now hes back in..

How he needs a friend,
Someone to speak with.
Hes been quite so long,hes forgotten his vocabulary

Everything since 3rd grade English
Makes no sense,Hes forgotten how to speak
It hurts to open his mouth..

His Language is Silence.
Might as well have no mouth
Quiet as a mouse,

The boy with no words..
Wish to fly with the Birds,a place non existent
A place not on Earth,where they speak his language
His language is Silence..


Copyright © S B | Year Posted 2011

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Love Like Ours.

Like the first love note, red flowers and ink
initials and boxes unchecked, left to think
3rd grade delivery, while heart blown adult
shaking in shoes long untied, difficult
Like the first kiss, in the sand on the beach
long brooded tenderness, passion increase
Hands held like fingerprints with no repeat
feeling for once like a puzzle complete
Like the soft steps of bare feet as we wed
while the sky sugar colored the sun into bed
No nervousness here at the tip of the world
Not a regret while I felt yet a girl
Like the last moment you kissed me goodbye
Off to work, off to your home in the sky
Trailing behind you the string to my heart
Like these first moments, again, when we part.


Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2005

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The Fool

Danielle my love, my sweet
What’s happening to me?
This slow knife your pushing into my chest
Wearing your shades in the pool
Hair down, post-full submersion
You make me wanna cry and scream…


You are 22 and I am 28
You speak with a Long Island accent
And I speak snarkily, blandly, minimally
You don’t even know I write these poems
Or how I feel about you
And I know nothing at all now
The torment erases everything…

You are my soul’s howling storm
Your simple, bulky walk
Like a slightly boastful child
And the easy laughing manner
An early spring eternal
Let me jump into your garden!

And your 8 million soft and subtle expressions of joy
Are enough to map over my entire desirous being from my 
3rd grade first crush to my future’s final kiss, 
That ghostly woman-to-be, in the soft sweet grays beyond,
Far forward, within the hour of my death…

All this, my Wonder, my New Purpose,
In attempt to write you out of my mind
And move on, though I fear I’m merely watering love plants

And watering on, I set out to jog
I will pound along the pavement, 
My fists glistening in the dying sun
My mind reaching for yours
Rushing! Rushing for your spirit 
Somewhere the sprawling summer city.

Here comes the fool: running, rushing in.


Copyright © Matt Caliri | 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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Storm

A lonesome figure stood upon the crashing waves
Extended arms to the darkest skies
Screaming out her fury at the heavens above
For the bitter storms she had survived

Tears streamed from weary eyes so tired of battle
Small shoulders shook in agony
Cursing the very things that made her stronger
As this, she could not see

Why me? She moaned and wailed in a mournful tone
Hot fear still gripping her heart
While forgetting that she was alive and well to cry
The most incredibly, important part

Those bitter storms will come and they will pass
They will never stay too long
Remember when you are screaming out in fury
It is The Storms that make you strong.


Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018

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Dangerous bullying

Words Words
Bitch and whore
The girl runs away
she slams the door
she takes a knife
and cuts her skin
remembering how screwed up her life has been
she leans to the toilet
throws up to be thin
at school all she has is a grin
She cuts cuts cuts some more
Screaming in pain, blood on the floor
People call her emo people laugh at her face
But they haven't even tried to be in her place
Her dad just died, her mom has depression
her brother has to go through a therapy session
Why can't people see? that grin is a lie
everything's done for her, her life's slowly fading by
Bloods dripping on the floor, she's screaming in pain
she can't eat because that means more weight to gain
She wishes to be perfect she says it's not fair
she says she hears people talking about her hair
She cuts it all off, her soul has been broken
but she never told anyone, her words were never spoken
She takes the rope, hangs herself in the dark
She no longer has a beating heart
Her friends fall to the ground
when they hear the word "She's dead"
Her brother cries as he sleeps in her bed
She is gone
She is done
Just because of people. making fun.
She's buried on a Saturday,
people start crying
all because that one girl stopped trying.

so before judging someone on their weight or their clothes
their laugh their talk their hair or their nose
Just take a moment to realize and see
Everyone is not always who they seem to be.


Copyright © Amelia Josephie | Year Posted 2018

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A bad dream

Dangerous dreams flood 
over me in darkness and 
the weight of them drowns me 
like a tidal wave 
sinking me into my mattress
and spiraling me through the 
rabbit hole on the other side
to somewhere on sixth street
forcing me into an open bar 
where smoke rings create halos 
and whiskey is the new smell of Christmas 
mixed drinks and shots in dayglow tubes 
round out the festive occasion 
but I have no reason to celebrate 
and I wish I could find anywhere 
everywhere to be but here
I can feel the stench of this 
clinging to me like sweat and 
it would take holy water 
to rinse away the sins 
you're begging me to commit
you portray joy and laughter
but I know desperation that
comes with the sunrise
clawing like a vampire
to the creases of darkness
to repeat the cycle of finding
an elixir to calm my nerves 
so I push, shove, and run my
way to consciousness
vowing not today
one more day 
just for today
I stay clean


Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018

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Dear Miss Bully

She looks in the mirror
I tell her she's ugly,
She puts on a dress
I say that she's fat
She tells me her problems
I say to leave me 
She puts down her blade 
I pick it up back
Everything good 
I snatch it away 
But I feel no qualm 
At least not today 
For one thing I know 
Forgive me she will 
She has a huge heart 
Too big for stand still 
Broken like glass 
Alone she stands 
A victim she is 
A bully I am 
No I am not proud 
Of what I have done 
For I am a bully
And victim in one 



Copyright © shabana hunte | Year Posted 2018

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CONVERTED WIFE

"Where from this?",
Laughter mingled with pity,
She was dressed with pretty,
Lipstick applied fervently to a mouth;
Red mouth matching a wild attire,
Her walking shook the whole land, 
Eyes and mouths were timed as spam, 
She was in a blinking eyeglass,
But knew she was drawing side mass, 
Inextricably I will say,"she's good looking",
The hem of her dress was raised slightly when the wind blew,
What was spotted deserves self speculation, 
Lips were licked,...body was stimulated after sensation,
From one corner came a scream,
"...thief,...thief...she is a hardened criminal",
Who will speak on her behalf to obtain freedom?
Nothing spared her the chance of doubt,
The pain that was vested into her that day was nominal, 
Convinced by her deceptive glib of professionalism, 
"I'm an investor",she always say,
With all my heart,I love her liberalism, 
After several years of being a prison mate,
Her life is now channeled to spiritualism, 
Great time in new testament holding grace!

 


Copyright © Anderson Walkingshoes | 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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cats purr

cats purr turns to dog-bone she bit my hand that dirty dog bite her back hush for a minute just let me lay here and bleed as the cats purr ? ... .. .


Copyright © wool man | 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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Sicuti Est Naturae

English Translation

BOOK 1


Proem
Nature, as one to another it seems bad omens,
envois, at entering at this stage of preliminary
dictates our way of thinking, worship saddens;
He, who follows many years, having mastered
what can only be dedicated once only, he too,                              5
Lucretius sculptures and engraves upon given
to exonerate the few, prevents who'd challenge,
that I, for living too his death shall be rectified.
More can be disguised of this natural habitat; 
arbitrary affections him this beginning life you                          10 
carrying on his works by the modern means 
following, and follow him like a glide-bearing
hero of the past, whose realm would imagine
selflessness would caress upon many  pages
upon the sense of denial to repent against the,                             15
means of depicting heroes do, when go fetch 
It would throughout time and space, fetch far.
 
Forage is to study, my works of unforeseeable
futures, are his so clearly seen to be absorbed
Intention is by virtue to find truth good reason.                          20
I would amble on covalent, being discretionary  
by the term matter, to abstain willingly enough, 
madness which follows from many years work.
Thereby, depicting madness, the living memory
Of one, who so focused on himself, for them,                            25
appraisals which help him get over what some,
common folk call insane, there is nothing bad
sad about getting away from all of this world.

If I am to be looked at in the same vane aspect,
Non existing would have travelled all his books                        30
He’d have noticed nothing, disclaim having read 
Giving praise alone that unknown lies imminent
Whose stature is the living memory of a mentor.


Copyright © Titus LLewellyn | Year Posted 2018

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Autumn

pearls dust
crinkly brown leaves
leaving them soft
and vulnerable
whispers ruffle their
existence
threatening to
tear them from their limbs
do not be afraid,
a kind whisper
enticing
in the heat
seductive
under their cool touch
one by one
they slide down
one snap,
another,
a flurry of oranges and browns and reds
and then nothing,
only naked trees shiver.


Copyright © Lukas andrew | Year Posted 2018