Best 5Th Grade Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best 5Th Grade poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of 5th grade poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for 5Th Grade poems, articles about 5Th Grade poems, poetry blogs, or anything else 5Th Grade poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New 5Th Grade Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best 5Th Grade poems are below this new poems list.

Being Bullied: My 5th Grade Nightmare by Bursey, Brashard
5th Grade Crush by Campbell, Ian D.
My Sister and Other Creepy Things by Kooper (5th grade student) by Johnston, Andrea

View all new 5Th Grade Poems

The Best 5Th Grade Poems

Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Girl

Secretly, I watch the neighbors, 
From my well-advantaged location.
Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S.
No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's.
They full-body laugh, tongues out.
Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again; 
I can hear Mrs. P. cussing.
At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor.
My girl is running toward me, flat out.
She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket.
There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs.
Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink
and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce.
After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down, 
and begins to read.
I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf.
She's ten, the perfect age to devour.
Every day is the same except Saturday.
On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me,
reading two to three books at a time.
It is our favorite day.
Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play,
but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws.
We are so in tune, she and I.
When I hear "CANDICE MILLIE STREET COME IN IMMEDIATELY!"
I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house, 
leaving me alone, 
to spy on the neighbors.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Second Row to the Board

          Second row to the board!

These words could not just be ignored
     I’m thinking but a vintage few
          Would even start to have a clue    

Nostalgia begs those days at school
     With steely nuns whose stare would rule
         Blackboards and their squeaky clamor
            Chalked Arithmetic and grammar

When called upon to diagram
    By row, we took final exam
        Our sentence structure, now to see
            Whose brain has not been absentee

With prepositions, verbs and nouns
     We hit the boards, such eager sounds
        Arms held tight, just the right angle
              Participles must not dangle!



Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I'm your crazy wand

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


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The F Poem

Five 
Fancy
Fleshy
Foxy
Friends
Followed
Feather-like
Finery
For
Fun-filled,
Flashy
Farfetched
Floppy
Flip-flops
Forever
Flowered.



Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Land of Dreams

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


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Simple Hamburger If You Please

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


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Young Bully Named

There once was a bully named Jim.
He made people cry on a whim.
He was big, bad and mean
And had a name-calling machine,
because he was not very smart, this man, Jim.

There once was a bully named Thad.
He called names and pulled hair, when mad.
We made him our pal,
And he said, "you guys are a wow!"
And he changed his whole attitude and was glad.


There once was a bully named Day.
He did everything to keep people away.
We ignored his bad side,
which he soon learned to hide.
Our new friend, who now liked to play.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Thwarting the Bullies

Shelly said that Darlene said that
Tina said that you are an ignorant fool.
So?
Jinny said that Zinna was rolling her eyes at you.
Farina said you have cooties.
So?
Do you want to hear what Allie said about you?
No, thanks.
Minnie said….
“I don’t want to hear it,” I tell her, skipping away.
“You are a poppie butt!” she yells after me.
Thank you, I yell back.
“You are CRAZY!” she hollers, angry now.
“THANK YOU!” I yell louder.
“They were talking trash about you,” my friend tells me.
Wait a second. This is my friend?
“Are you going to talk to them about it?”
No.
Are you going to fight them?
I throw back my head and laugh.
Once I mastered the skip away, the stay away and the thank you
Bullies had no power over me.
They started bothering others.
I try to teach my friends
Bullies will leave you alone
If they don’t think you are getting mad or sad.
Being so danged light skinned .
I had a terrible time mastering
Those telling pink cheeks.
I had to practice with
Trusted friends,
By letting them calling
Me names and practicing
My strategies.
The Keep Away.
The Skip Away.
The Thank You.
Believe me,
I now have it right.
No one bothers
Me now.
It’s simply
No
Damned 
Fun.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Cat Ninette

Cat
Kitty
Licking now
Hairball. Hairball.
Move Yourself Quickly
Foul thing comes out.
Disgusting
Hairball.
Cat


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Funny Skunk Poem for Kids

      Scotty the Skunk was sitting in class,
when his English teacher gave her students,
a poetry task. 
      Write a poem for me, on the subject
of who you would rather be.
      Scotty wasn't the best writer in class,
but he knew in his heart, he give it his
best.
       Sammy the Squirrel sat next to him,
while holding his nose, he laughed and he
grinned.  
       Ralphy the raccoon gave Scotty a box
of deodorant soap. He then laughed out loud
as if it was a real funny Joke.
      " I'm tired of having them pick on me.
Someday I'll show them, you wait and see!"
       Scotty the Skunk went crying to his
mom. He said, "Mom I wish I wasn't born
a skunk!" His mom said, "Were all created 
equally son." 
      " Don't let others cause you grief. Just
ignore them and live your life in peace."
       Scotty gave his mom a long embrace.
No matter how sad he felt, his mother's
hugs always made him feel great
       He went to his room and started to
write. He did not stop writing, till twelve
o'clock midnight.

        This is what Scotty wrote.
            
I would want to be born a Rose, a
sweet scent smelled, by everyone's 
nose.

If I was a Rose. I would never be
teased. A fragrant aroma, I would
release. 

My mom and dad wouldn't worry about
me. I would be as happy, as happy can
be.

Ralphy and Sammy would be my best
friends, and would never poke fun of me
ever again.

No one would ever say that I stunk,
Or think of me as a smelly, pee-yew
skunk!

Scotty The Skunk:  Who you would Rather
be. Contest. Mrs Jones 5th grade class.

        It was contest day and Scotty read
his poem at last. As he read his poem
Ralphy and Sammy started feeling guilty
and sad.
       When he finished, the whole class
applauded. And all the animals started to
holler... Scotty! Scotty! Scotty! Scotty!
       Ralphy came over with Sammy and
said they were really sorry. Scotty said,
 "It's ok fella's I forgive you, don't you all
worry."
       As for Scotty's Poem Mrs Jones gave 
him an A plus. Then shortly after school,
all Scotty's classmates gave him a special
big hug. 
                   
           " I'm happy being myself,
              and no one else!" He
                  said to himself.
       
 
       
          



     

 




Michael Tor 10/12/2015   Poetry Soup Contest. Funny Kids Poem Contest.
                                      

      
        
        


     
       
     
     


Copyright © michael tor | Year Posted 2015


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Way Back Then When I Was Ten

Way Back Then When I Was Ten


Way back then when I was ten, I lived in Washington D.C.
The White House, Capitol and Monument were truly sights to see.
I remember taking a bus ride, downtown to see the parades,
I would rush to find a seat on the curb, to watch the clowns’ charades.

Way back then when I was ten, I was in the 5th grade,
I joined the orchestra with my friends, the violin I played
Then one day a Concert, in front of Classmates and the PTA.
Nervous stomach, trembling hands, my fingers froze like clay.

Way back then when I was ten, outside was so much fun,
Games like tag and hide-and-seek kept me on the run.
Hop scotch, jacks and Jump rope, required a little skill.   
But with daily practice, I soon became, Queen of the Hill.

Memories of my childhood and days spent with family and kin
Brings back thoughts of yesterdays, way back then, when I was ten.

Written: © 1/27/16


Copyright © Sarita Milliner | Year Posted 2016


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who I Am part 1

Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed. 
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it, 
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?


Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

5th Grade Crush

Strange, 
But I've seen you
Everywhere lately. 

Caramel colored
Girls, either you
or your daughter.

I'm not quite
Sure. 

But I laugh inside. 

The Challenger may 
Have exploded, but 
We didn't.

The cassette tapes
May have been lost. 

But not the smiles, 
the cupcakes, 
the ruler, 
and what was most important.


Copyright © Ian D. Campbell | Year Posted 2013


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Who I Am Part 1 additional revision

Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed. 
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it, 
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?


Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Lickety Split

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


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Teacher

Hero

Caring, Respectful

Empathetic, Kind, Loving

Purposefully Helpful

Teacher


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Happy Birthday to Me

:)

Author Note:
45 minutes in the district library trying to find former president Jimmy Carter's and wife Rosalyn's book they wrote in the 1980's on Youth cause my children are driving me nuts.
(hahaha)

Good day though, even if I didn't get the title of the book for my birthday.

Oh well, the gov. probably with holding it, cause even the Carter Center doesn't know(previous phone contact). 

On a light note, about 7 or 8 years ago on a Christian site Lucinda Price aka Cindy Cayton, me, wrote a response and the government locked it you have to write and ask for Lucinda Price's writing. A man, Christian man of authority's answer was because men had authority. It wasn't an argument. ?????

Got a nurse yesterday coming to the house cause my Family Dr. that I went to school with sent one. I am diabetic. (I do not give my blood or urine..(My American right)
Oh, well, I did "The Brian" as a 5th grade science fair project, made my model out of homemade play dough, colored it redish... they took the model, thought it was good. But I ended up CRAZY????????????

It was cold and rainy previous days but today is a beautiful day outside in Ohio!!! Much to appreciate. Thanks Poetry Soup for letting me be a free member for7 or 8 years now. Come January (I don't take money for my writing because my talents are God given) I want to be a member and give away magazines, newspaper subscriptions, and maybe an illustrated childrens book that benefits World Vision children... bye!!!! :)


Copyright © Cindy Cayton | Year Posted 2014


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Unexpected

Every day, every where, Lives are lost it’s never fair. You don’t know the numbers, Most haven’t felt the pain, Death is no doubt the all time mental strain. Whether it’s a dog, cat, family member, or friend, Most don’t know for sure when their life will end. Elementary school were the hardest years, I ended 5th grade with 5 times the tears. Death shouldn’t be joyful, it shouldn’t be funny, When a friend dies, my day is anything but sunny. When a family member or friend dies my heart starts to sink, What were the last words I said, I start to think. As I take a walk down memory lane, I start feeling all the emotional pain. You may ask why I’m writing a poem about death, For all I know this could be my last breath.


Copyright © Josh Whipple | Year Posted 2012


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Drewski

My name is Andrew A,
I'm 5'7" and 223,
Some of me amigos call me drewski,
Heck I remind my cousin of Michael J. Caboose,
I play yughio, D&D, pokemon, xbox, playstation, pc, and even some wii u,
Oh yeah I'm a gamer,
Nerd,
Nerding out every day,
All day,
Take some crap,
Give some back,
Get called big boy,
Oh yeah bro I'm a big boy I'm almost 16,
Even heard hairy man once,
Of course I've had a mustache since 5th grade,
Might not be the best at anything but I sure can wing it,
Not the most faithful because I know I make my own path,
Life can throw all the curve balls it wants because it'll be strike two when I get a grand slam!



Copyright © Andrew Akelkok | Year Posted 2015


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

BARELY TWELVE


Never expected to find you
So much I wanted to tell you
Actually boils down to a warm thank you
Your glowing smile I can still picture
Still remember your laughter
You seemed much older and wiser
In your eyes that deep piercing look
Revealed the wisdom of an old soul’s book
Maybe even the charm of an angel’s hook
Touching lives with your sprinkle of gold
We were so young, barely twelve years old

To this day, you had an impact on my life


Submitted this February, 2018


Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dear Veronica

How can something be amazing and terrifying at the same time? 
I have a wife and three kids
no, wait that's my imagination running wild
I have a girlfriend, my world of a month now
but I've chased her for years of 6
She's been twice out of my life
and I couldn't let her escape thrice
Veronica, my life
Veronica, will you be my wife
A question for another day
Veronica
I have many different names for her
I call my her my queen, pearl of the stars
my Konstantine
Veronica Augustine, my Konstantine
my Konstantine
I could snowball an essay 
on how beautiful she is
the way her hair cascades like a crescent moon
falling across her right eye
shading the dark side of her hazel eyes
She's a total dream to me
I reached to the sky
plucked her from her home in the stars
You could say she's my wish come true
yet I sit here on my floor of ocean blue
yet I sit here, several shades of grey
Terrified
I sit here, a silent implosion of fear, of excitement
This rush is so real
I'm...I'm...scared for my life
for my pride
How, at such a young, was I ready to give myself up in handcuffs
to the presence of love
give myself up freely to marriage
unafraid of anything
full of courage and bravery
Now I've grown up from the little boy with dreams
I'm corruptable, corrupted, broken at the seams
look at me, I'm just scared of everything
Marriage, yes I believe I'm ready
but I'd be lying if I said I'm going in with all of me
Afraid to let go
I'm afraid I'm going with leeches attached to my arms
I'm going all in with bits and pieces missing
for I blew away my brain 
when I fell flat on my face for two years straight
And for four years straight
I passed out pieces of my heart to every rusted pearl
for I thought I could make them shine
bring them back to life
So while they were back to beauty
in return I develop scars, I develop rust
Now look at me
I'm no saint, no angel
I'm not a boy, not a man
I'm not magnificent
I'm only a dream to Veronica
Veronica, what do you see in me
Veronica Augustine, my Konstantine
what on earth do you see in me
Sarah, she still has a piece of me
Juliet, she still carries a piece of me
but Konstantine, you have all of me
so don't fret, just listen please
I was born a child
headphones were upon my ears when I came out
I lived a fighter
for I fight everyday of my life
to live in a world I tried to take myself out of 
since those disasters in 5th grade
and time after time
I've taken my own life in poetry
poetic suicide
But Veronica
Dear Veronica
You have single handedly resurrected me
yet still in my new found sense of happy
I'm still wrapped in misery
I'm miserable at best
Veronica
Veronica Augustine
My dear Veronica
My Konstantine
Please break the haze of the cloud that hinders me
Miles separate us
but you're within my dreams
and all I want to do is lay beside you
bury my hands in your hair
while staring into the galaxies trapped in your eyes
whisper I love you for the ride
as your chin finds its place upon my chest
where the 'S' should be
though there is only an 'N'
I'm nothing, nobody, no one
I'm just a dot compared to the sun
compared to the Son
yet Veronica, dear Veronica
You place me on a throne far off the ground
please bring me back down
I'm afraid of heights
I'm afraid you'll get tired of me so easily
These years of six I wouldn't trade for the world
but why would you want to spend an eternity
with a lost narcissist in the shape of a lonely boy
You claim I'm perfect
but I could mail you a list of my flaws
Are you getting what I'm saying
I'm scared to death
that the throne you place upon me
will torch and burn right under me
will collapse under my fragile weight
by the daggers and stones I could throw into your house of brick
at your mansion of happiness
I'm corruptable, corrupted, I'm miserable at best
Veronica
Veronica Augustine, Konstantine
my queen, my pearl of the stars
I love you more than my perch
at my park
I am the moon and you are my star
I just don't want you to be so wrapped up in me
and then I find the weak spot under your heart
take an arrow and stab my way in
Marriage, how was I ready to give myself to you
in handcuffs, in freedom
so ready, so willingly
Now I'm a man, a transformation of the boy I used to be
and I'm just justly justifiably scared of everything
for how can everything be amazing
and utterly
and unfortunately
and undoubtedly
terrifying
Utterly Terrifying
Veronica
Veronica Augustine
Veronica, my Konstantine....
if I asked you today
would you still marry me...


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Life is a poem

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


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Farmer's Prayer

Lord, bless us with rain for our fields and crops
Tiny pin drops of water in the dark
Gentle tippy toe taps as opposed to clops
Soaking while receiving no blighted mark

Enkindling life, new growth, greenery moire
Strengthening rootstalk and birthing seedpods 
Subtle beauty peeking from the boudoir
Slight breath of wind as stem and leaf applauds

Distant rumbles casting dreams of fortune
Filtered flashes foreshadowing morning
Every being given its due portion
Sunlight greets a good night's sleep adorning

Twilight brightens Your night's gifted labor
We work, we dance to Creation's tabor


Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Wise Elders

Wise Elders are patient,
fully embrace non-violent communication
and health care
of climates and landscapes,
persons,
places,
things,
plants
and planet,
hopes
and dreams
rebuilding positive faith.

Wise Elders non-violently listen
for karmic grace of love
sometimes overflowing, diastatic.

If Wise Revolutionaries for change,
clearing murky swamps,
then Wise Elder non-violent evolutionaries
toward peace
restoring OneBody of HolySpirit 
for cooperative justice,

Anima Mundi active mercy-growing
Gaian Principles of patient and steadfast
relentlessly co-present serenity
surrendering to shared joy,
wonder,
awe

Rooted in revolving
double-binding Entropy-Synergy
truths discovered uncovered recovered
trusting constitutional WiseElder health
actively non-violent,
Yangly yinned equivalent ambivalent re-bivalent
ReVolutions restoring Earth's WiseElder Peace.

This might not sound like your fifth grade teacher,
or even your high school civic leadership preacher,
your parents
or any candidate for WiseElder public service leadership
you have ever had the pleasure of voting for,
or even the displeasure of voting against
given your democratic opportunities and options
up to this Postmillennial Time.

You probably have had difficulty
identifying Sacred WiseElder candidates
favoring multicultural health of polypathic-polyphonic Traditions,
conserving Elder Wisdom
by liberating Secularizing Fools from future public offices
of authority
responsibility
accountability to all DNA-RNA Solidarity cooperatives,

Including other Sacred WiseElders and Children
and all regenerative ages in-between reborn and dead
co-investing in WinWin ecopolitical players,
pro SevenGeneration lifers,
revolters from Business As BeatenDown and Punished Usual,
Occupiers,
Organic Gardeners and ReWeavers,
good regenerative shepherds,
bodhisattva co-messiahs,
eco-yogis of cooperative stretching
and breathing
and bilateral consciousness
and economically wise EcoLogos,
tellers of Regenerative Nature-Spirit Stories.

Conjoining WiseElder Voices:
Restorative Justice and Peace Advocacy,
Gaian Principles of PermaCulturing Design
(for internal and external healthy landscapes and climates)
Tao as Bicameral ZenZeroZone-ish-ness-nest
ego/eco-habitat.

Wise Elder Ego
reflects Sacred EcoLogos-Mythos
de-monoculturing ego-Left dominantly
re-polyculturing WiseElder habitats
within SacredRight inducting EarthSoul.

Between SacredElders
lies a coincidental double-binding 
transparent boundary,
a crystal lake faced septum,
reflecting secular Yang mountains above
co-arising
deep sacred YinYin bilateral WinWin Valleys
waving back in Wonder
and Awe
about who we have been,

Where and when we have come from 
what SacredElders
and why,
and where we could best become
Wise SacredElders
reflecting active mentors
of Bicameral EarthSoul

Humane EgoPlace
inside-outside
Divine temporal integrity,
Tipping Points
back and forth
toward WiseElder ego-eco revolutionary double-binding 
democratizing parties,
creolizing stresses and strains of glory
composed of Original AnimaMundi Constitutional Intent
of Sacred WiseElders.

It cannot be a radical proposition,
except in the most deeply rooted, fundamental,
incarnations of "radical,"
that Democratic Constitutional Intent
toward sacred Unity of a Humane People (NOT uniformity)
toward secular and sacred Welfare,
fare well wealth including internal and external health
of a society and planet with great rapidly growing polycultural richness,
density,
assets,
producers and consumers,
precludes the foolishness of encouraging monocultural fascism
supremacist RightWing dominating choices.

Not WiseElder,
more TooMuchYangLeft Business As Competing Usual
EitherOr headed toward degeneratively pathological demise
of plants
people
planet,
place,
organic things,
love,
faith,
hope for future Sacred Wise Bilaterally Conscious Elders,
speaking and acting with regenerative non-violence,
patient healthywealth
consuming and producing polycultural outcomes.

Those who ask for your support,
your faith,
your belief,
your prayers,
so they can play Win AnthroCentric Economic Gains
by Losing Sacred EarthSoul Ecological Wealth,
short-sightedness to this tipping point 
delineating myopic absence of 2020 accountability,
These self-marketers are economically and politically clueless
about discerning democratically mature health
from plutocratically adolescent pathology.

It is foolish to grow in irresponsibility,
stuck in WinLose
EitherOr
perpetual adolescent LeftBrain too dominant,
out of balance
unconsciousness
even of our own cognitive-affective internal dissonance.

RightWing internal arguments
threats
nightmares
conspiracies whisper
for ReStorative LeftRight Justice
as sacred multi-laterally cooperative
nondual co-arising peace
of exegetically Sacred WiseElders 
past through future Seven ReGenerations.


If polypathic space
equals not(not polyphonic)
bilateral waves
of flowing time,
spirals of revolutionary regenerative DNA-RNA solidarity health
strings evolving
enculturing weaving and unraveling Creation Stories 
of Light's integrative/anti-integrative CoPresence,

If Yang
equals not(not Yin)
equals ++1
equals (notnot)Zero binomially WinWin double-bound,
nondual co-arising
Sacred Wisdom refining Elder Exegesis,
perhaps EgoLeft co-arises EcoRight,
BiEarthSoul,
HolonicSpirt,
One CoMessianic Body
restored by re-gathering
Patriarchal-Matriarchal EcoPolitical
WiseElder Balance,
patience,
non-violent reweavings
reconnecting vocations in peaceful ego/eco-justice.


Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2018


Details | 5Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pick me Pick Me

I quiver with excitement.
Here comes Big Hand.
Will she pick me up?
Big Hand picks up a pink paper clip.
Pink paper clip sticks her tongue out at me; we loathe each other.
She always thinks she’s all that when she gets chosen over me.
I can do small jobs too, you know, I think with a sigh.
My arch enemy, clipped to the top of several sheets of white paper is lying on her side now, gloating.
I cannot believe her smug grin.
Big Hand is moving again toward me.
Choose me! Choose me! I yell, but only in my mind, as I have no voice.
Big Hand picks up a pen and begins to write, types on the keyboard.
Plick. Plick. Plick. Plick. Plick. Plick. She types fast.
Picks up gray eraser, furiously tears him apart all over the paper.
I am relieved she never does that to me.
Typing again.
Plick. Plick. Plick. Plick. Plick. 
Stops.
Decimates eraser a bit more.  Scrapes his skin off onto the floor.
I feel hopeful because I almost always get used after Big Hand does this much typing.
This is always when she needs me the most.
I listen to keyboard clicking for three days, and two nights. 
On Wednesday morning Big Hand moves precariously close to me. 
Is this my day? I seize up with excitement.
She slides a bunch of papers into my large metallic mouth.
Snap. Snap. 
She looks at the teeth I have left.
Smiles. Satisfied.
I happily stick my tongue out at pink paperclip.
Who is the top dog now?


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018