Best Playground Poems
Playground…
Playground…
I am making decisions every morning,
None of them comes along with any warning.
To go right or to go left, which one is right?
Living in darkness or hoping to see light.
I made million decisions, most of them fine,
Few I made that I think it wasn’t mine.
Few that changed my life led me to despair,
I wish I had a chance go back and repair.
What if I had the power to do it right?
To go back and play all day and all night.
What if I can go back to play like a young?
To sing all of the songs that ought to be sung.
What if, instead of books, I learned to live life,
to learn dance, and learn to play with no more strife?
Alas, sun is setting, darkness coming soon.
My hope is to see it; that wandering moon.
I wish there was a game I could play now.
A childish game if you can show me it how.
The sinful mirror on my nearest wall,
Reminding my summer has gone; it is fall.
The autumn now, it is cold and full of pain.
The winter promises more days to complain.
I am thinking to go back and do it right.
As if mistakes never were an oversight.
I am thinking of a play in the playground.
To play as young again, hope youth to be found.
If I play hard again, I might become young,
I will dance like a fool, unknown and unsung.
I don’t know where to play or who I can trust.
In this strange game of life, aging is unjust.
Where is my playground, my supernal bliss?
Awake me once again; no life is like this.
7/28/18 Haloo
Note: This particular style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is a spiritual couplet usually with eleven syllables. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
We are all in the devil's playground,
now watch as I breach over and hold on to God's hand real tight.
~
#1. The underground is never lonely, to many hot dates.
#2. The host and the guest never seem to rest.
#3. The light will always shine upon my soul, no matter the shadow.
~
BY; PD
In a playground of mud
One time I made friends with a pig
He had the most wonderful gig
In a playground of mud
My new friend went thud
I’ll tell you, that sucker was big
Then one day it seemed he was shaken
I realized that he was mistaken
I said, have no fear
I’d rather have beer
And really don’t care much for bacon
He went back to playing again
Then got on his knees in his pen
He looked to the sky
And let out a sigh
I swear that pig grunted “amen”
8/31/18
For the: Any Animal or Creature Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
In her playground of romance,
swings of destiny swayed gently,
as a merry-go-around span endlessly,
so in a state of dizziness,
I crept inside, unaware, in my sleepiness,
I had been treading upon flowers beneath my feet,
as their fragrance faded, her spirit wept in echoes of betrayal,
but her tongue could not explain,
so, I gifted her three dahlias from my soul's oasis;
purple for prosperity,
red for passion and
white for innocence.
I can still remember the taste from
the first time I felt the moisture of her lips.
In a night where we held each other so tight,
we sizzled like the Sahara sun,
as heat kindled in our kisses,
we merged in the silent language of touch,
waiting for gravity to bring us back.
We were adrift without the need for words -
in places poetry cannot reach.
In our infatuation, following lanterns in the night sky,
I mistook our path of promises
for an intimate illusion only found in dreams
and became misplaced in her self sabotaged storm,
until I was swept away with merciless waves.
Yet, yearning rests upon the tip of my tongue,
like breathless whispers.
If only she would come to me like dawn,
so I could kiss her like ripples at 5am and
once more feel the heartbeats upon her breast.
I turn half asleep,
reaching out into the emptiness,
as the darkness paints her silhouette in each corner,
flickering sentimental slideshows in my mind,
absorbing the angst of her absence.
Now I am nothing,
and she no longer remembers my name -
so what purpose is there to remain?
Ravens gather to the rhythm of a sad piano,
as my pulse beats wistfully among weeping willows,
leaving traces on my flesh like raindrops on stone.
Reciting the last paragraph, I ponder
if this is maybe the penultimate poem,
as we cannot find new verses to ink together.
But, our memories are stitched into the same seam,
so I'll wear her handwriting until heaven.
Sliding
down
the
spoon
into a bubbling puddle of heroin
Creating the haze
That creeps across the park
Like a dense fog
Swinging on
C C
H H
A A
I I
N N
S S
OF METH
- Like a pendulum on my grandfathers clock –
Tick’
Tock
Tick
Tock (faster)
Tick
Tick
Tick
Tock…………
Swinging on monkey bars of dealers
With their MONKEY on my back
Spinning on the merry go round of liquor
Trying to walk life’s straight line
Tick’
Tick
Tick
Tock (faster)
Teeter tottering in and out of reality
On the courts of life
Playing for the last shot 3…...2…….......1………......
Tick
Tock!
____________________________________________
written for the contest sponsored by Deborah Guzzi
note: this is fictional a poem on substance abuse.
Plastic Playground
The plastic playground sits on land,
Land now defaced of nature’s scheme.
Scheme offers colored shapes pristine—
Pristine like board games played inside.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
~6th Place~
Contest: Four Lines Only - Visual 5
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 06/12/2015
.
In the Playground
Fists fly
Black eye
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
'One Footle Only' Contest
Sponsored by Judy Konos
Placed 1st
© 29th October 2017
I bent my mind around her ideas
became engrossed by playful words
Yet the thoughts were so horrific
my tears flowed and eyes were blurred
Sandbox baby playing
laughter and childish sounds
the weight of pain enormous
as a parent's joy turned into frowns
Sandbox baby oh so precious
is society to blame
The blur of pretty pictures
on dumb-phones adults play games
But the boogie man he's a watching
invisible to mommies sight
no one really expects him
When skies are shining bright
He snatches away her precious
a day that was filled with smiles
In the matter of just a few moments
Her sandbox baby is far from her eyes
Sobs of her desperation
as the rest hold their babies tight
thank God it wasn't them
still not a one will rest this night
The playground now seems broken
the sandcastles have turned to dust
The swings in the wind are swinging
we watch as metal turns to rust
The ghost of sand box baby
A nightmare birthed destroyed her dream
Laughter that once had been gifted
makes way for an endless scream!
When the taker is so cruel
try not to judge the ones we see
Know that it could easily happen
pray to God not you or me
Everyone has their distractions
pain of regret they didn't save
Watch for the distracted watchers
help sandbox baby avoid the grave!
Inspired by Casarah Nance's poem titled "Sandbox Baby" please read her outstanding piece!!
I live in the shell of my body,
though it houses me very well,
I can walk to my deep secret places-
and when I'm there, no one can tell.
In this shell, I am the ruler,
always coming and going at will,
wandering far to the ocean
or top of a green, grassy hill.
Away to my playground of words...
for minutes or hours, I may hide.
While my shell is busy at living,
I am walking away deep inside.
I'm walking away to follow
wherever great words lead me to,
and then, from those deep secret places,
I will bring back a poem or two.
December 15, 2015
~2nd Place~
Contest: Walking Away
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 12/16/2015
At one-hundred grandpa dreams of a fling
Scoring the streets for a saucy young thing
He's mastered a line
That works every time
'Come to my playground, and learn how to swing!'
Piercing screams slice the air
Creating a sense of joy with laughter
Coloring the moments in exhilaration
Left behind from some child’s imagination
Echoes of small feet darting and sprinting
Leaving stirrings of complete abandonment
The knowing that comes from sharing hours
Spent in breathless bliss, creating wonders
That last through the day and well into night
Stabbing at the hot sun and startling the stardust
Twinkles of a night breaking into angelic song
One little girl holds the jump rope’s end
As another child skips to the beat of its spin
Leaving another girl waiting by the oaks
Hoping to take a turn when the time is right
A small boy holds a ball and seems intent
On tossing it across the grassy field
Where so many others have played this game
Before, moving to the bases and shouting
With enthusiasm… children filled with elation
Dancing in waves of lavender and rose, azure tones
Caress the buttery sun with sincerity that comes
From knowing this is a day about to be spent swirling
Twisting and turning, spiraling out of control, thriving
In the kind, but fleeting hours that awaken gladness
And soothe the soul in seas of compassion and creativity
Discovered on the wings of fairies and friends who grow up
Together, on the playground that holds such charming memoirs
On this playing field, this playground, every soul is essential
A thought expressed by the one who knows that this world
Dances to life when their feet hasten across fresh grass
Leaving only the dreams to last beneath the melodies of dew
And sun, rain and moon, starry nights when every thought knows
The playground is where a yearning goes to find love alive inside
It is captured in the reflection of laughing eyes on every smile
From child to child – playing out the song inside their hearts!
On the playground… there is butterfly dreams and kisses
From a breeze that whispers of serenity which brings
Faithful friends together on wonderous wings of innocence
On the playground… there is pure love
Playground Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shreya LN
June 13, 2021
Come with me to my favorite place
in playground of imagination.
It’s such a beautiful happy space
to experience any sensation.
Rainbows above you burst in the sky.
Your thoughts and feelings have colors, you see
and here your muse will never run dry
because from the real world you flee.
Metaphors on monkey bars swing.
Hyperbole hangs from them too.
Be like a bird, and let your thoughts sing.
Yes, similes are sure to tag you.
Swing on the swing set and let your words play.
On the merry-go-round take a spin.
You can go just about any which way
if playground of imagination you’re in.
On the jungle gym climb, and let your mind slide
like a child’s, but once on the ground,
get right back up. Let sound be your guide.
Alliteration is usually around.
On the see-saw you can collaborate.
You can run free or play here with rhyme.
Fancy rules. She commands you create.
No limits are set. Just have a good time!
unknown to anyone
down a convoluted secret path
in a hidden corner of my heart
it's there and waits for me
beneath a summer sun
the playground of my youth
and when quietly I listen
I still hear the sweet melody
of children's laughter
AP: 2nd place 2021
Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!
Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Frowns exchange
“The World’s Playground”
"Ring around the roses. Ring around the roses".
Jack the ripper, he slept with a whore, and became deadly ill
Awhile his wife Jill became suicidal dependent on the Prozac pill
Mother Goose lost all four of her children it was easy to ignore.
She was too busy being a **** star it was hardcore.
One had his brains fried. One died from electric shock.
One survived to an infant to be killed on the block
Last became involved in gambling, a financial debt he can’t pay
The mob sent the goose a bleeding red box saying happy birthday.
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves, and atm machines
By raising the right hand shouting upon the witness stand
This is zappy land, this is zippy land, this is the zingy land.
Sparrow and Fly killed Cock Robin with a ball and chain
In a black pond the fish devoured the bird’s brains
Old Grandma once had delicious pie the night when Crow Man came.
She then had two children who took her life’s blame.
Hansel became a business man who took people’s homes.
Baba Yaga pimped Gretel on the streets of Rome.
Hansel lost his control. He cooked his old hag.
Gretel was cut opened killed by a douchbag.
“Girls and boys, come out to play,
The [stars] doth shine as bright as day;”
Leave your families, don’t be discreet,
“And come with your [fellows] into the street.”
Little children holding hands, "ring around the rosy".
Children dancing gleefully "with pockets full of posies".
Happily they burn the days away. "Ashes, ashes".
Going through life, "we all fall down".
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves and atm machines
This is happy land, this is happy land, this is happy land.
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a Playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves, and atm machines
This is happy land, this is happy land, this is happy land.
This is the place to be.
"Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down".