Kids Prose Poetry Poems | Examples
These Kids Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Kids. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Kids poems written by international poets.
My wife and I enter a restaurant across the street from the airport, our kids in tow. There is quite a crowd with little room to maneuver. Our name goes on the waitlist. Ugh.
Carol and I are taking turns holding our 2-month-old son while the other holds the hand of our 3-year-old. As I take the baby my wife realizes Daniel isn’t there. She frantically scans the area and sees an older man leading Daniel by the hand toward the exit. Quick to respond, Carol runs toward them, repeatedly shouting, “Daniel, stop!” Daniel turns and the man releases his hand and exits as my wife scoops Daniel into her arms. I am a beat behind. We experience a flood of emotions.
They call out our name. Our table is ready.
Willie was a boy astronaut
the first one allowed in outer space
Not a commander, but a commander-in-training
Every night, he was on another adventure
Can he ever just stay home? His daddy asked.
No, Mommy said. He has wanderlust. He has to keep moving.
Maybe I could go? Daddy suggested.
Willie laughed that idea out the door.
Daddy, we are all kids.
The commander is only twelve.
Anyone older is not allowed.
Adventures of children, the best times of all.
Fall in love with your new brothers and sisters said the Mom.
So, they did their best, and it was not always easy.
This was the family who took in foster kids.
Not once or twice, but their entire growing up years.
Their children had to learn to immediately love these strangers.
But in about six months, they were forced to let them go.
A sad life for a child who wanted to keep her siblings.
Releasing them to adult strangers is never easy.
Not seeing them ever again is worse.
Howling winds of Kansas made us cry out that August
We felt threatened.
Sounded like a train
Then deadly quiet
Tornado was here
Someone yelled “get the kids!”
We survived the storm in a bathtub
All four of us were alive
Almost everything else was gone
Priorities changed instantly
I see why kids want to be sent to the office
The office is a “happening place” – I mean truly busy
Every second someone is running in, out, or amok.
I am talking about students, parents, and the staff.
This is the place to hear the wildest stories.
Joking and milling around is happening.
It is an active happening popping place.
Send me! They yell. Send me. They want to be in the know.
Today is going to be super easy for some
And yet incredibly difficult for others
Easy because it is the last day before winter break
Which used to be Christmas break, but now can’t be
Many teachers have brought food and are showing movies
The Polar Bear Express, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, etc.
Wait! That has Christmas in it. Maybe not that one.
Not legitimately.
It is also pajama day. The principal hates pajama day.
She has called in sick; I think it is because it is pajama day.
The kids are in the hallway with loud happy voices.
Anticipating their parties and movies.
Some of them will have a tough time today.
They depend on school to be structured.
It is the only structure they receive.
I feel sorry for them; freedom will be difficult for them.
Sugar Lily did not know her grandma well
But she recognized her smile as friendly
Her parents were excited to be off on their own
They acted like kids, waving and yelling.
Grandma Day yelled “Go already!”
They were gone in a blast after that.
Sugar Lily learned to snap peas out of pods.
She learned how to crochet a chain.
By the time her parents came back
Grandma Day was her new best friend.
She announced all of her accomplishments in the car.
I learned to paint a fence. I learned to swim in a lake.
I learned to dig for worms. I learned to fish bass.
I learned to be quiet when grandma’s boyfriend comes over.
Boyfriend! My daddy nearly wrecked the car.
Just teasing, I said, but can I come back next summer?
They come in with their hair dyed purple
To match their lavender dress.
Tops of their support hose showing
We kids laugh a bit about it.
If Daddy can reach us we might get a head tap.
Mommy cannot sit by these old ladies.
They no longer bathe, camouflaging their scent
By dunking themselves into a pool of fragrances.
Mom is allergic to all of them.
So where do they head?
Mommy jumps up and runs out coughing.
Why doesn’t she just tell them?
I do not remember the last time
She sat through a church service.
Yet here we sit, hearing her coughing from the back.
I want to tell them, but a look from my Daddy stops me.
No one would ever know because he was cagey
The children were in the car but they did not see the body
It had not started smelling yet.
She had only been dead an hour or two.
They were asleep by the time he reached the woods.
He began to dig, but the ground was unusually hard.
He had not figured this in. One of the kids woke up.
Began screaming for Mommy.
If she did not stop, she would be joining Mommy.
He had no need of kids in his new life.
It would be easy. A couple of whacks over the head.
The kids were small, and he wanted kids with his new girl.
He looked up and saw a tree staring at him with his wife’s eyes.
We kids from the fifties were always dressed as cowboys or cowgirls.
Our TV shows in black and white included guns, bullets and horses.
The men were the shooters, the women helpless, Indians died all over.
I decided at a young age I would be an Indian; I hated the cowboys.
Not fond of the cowgirls either; except I did like their fringed skirts.
I discovered that Indian women wore fringe, and decided to be one.
We had cap guns, and got to shoot all over the place, if we were boys.
I was a girl, and was encouraged not to shoot but rather to have a doll.
Wearing war paint, I scalped my doll and named myself Wise Eagle Woman.
The other girls avoided me, thinking I was the strange one.
We decided to be elegant
Have breakfast outside on the veranda
A gorgeous Florida day
Where is mom?
Our mother asked.
No one knew.
What is a toaster doing on the table?
Daddy asked.
No one knew.
Where is grandma? I asked.
Maybe she overslept, Mom said.
Dad said, “As if we could be that lucky!”
Grandma had kind of invited herself.
She is a big nut and keeps us happy.
We three kids love it that she came.
“Hey! What’s this?” My six-year-old brother asked.
A sign that said, “push me!”
He pushed the down lever.
Grandma came popping out of the toaster
Once again delighting us kids
And mortifying our parents.
Best trick ever!
He did not return after kindergarten
His name was Deanie
He had red hair and freckles, and he laughed all the time.
None of us kids knew where he was.
I thought he moved away
But his brothers were still here.
So that seemed odd once.
But I was five, and forgot about him almost the second I thought of him.
His brothers knew what happened to Deanie.
They were supposed to be watching him at the swimming hole.
None of them spoke of it
I was glad later that at five
I forgot to ask them
what happened.
Maggie and me. Slamming down our
Photographed bug lunch pails
Reactions are fast. OOOH! OOOH!
We smile. Glad to see the other girls' reactions.
Those are boy lunch pails snotty Cathy says
She is prissy; we stick out our tongues.
Grin.
High five each other.
We feel the same about her.
She is to be tormented whenever possible
You are strange, she says, flouncing off.
We laugh. Cannot stop. Keep laughing.
It turns into the dreaded silent laugh
that only we get.
The two kids across the lunch table stare
Neither understanding.
But we do...
He is a runner. I used to be too
Which is why I do not wear heels
Or even slippery sandals to school.
I am in tennis shoes but he is fast.
Only five-years-old and no doubt
an Olympic contender.
“Catch that kid!” I yell up the hallway.
Two other teachers corner him.
He jumps over both of their heads.
Bounding toward the outside door.
An Olympic jumper too.
What about that! The kids cheer.
I head out the door
Chasing him through the playground.
He climbs up to the tip top
Where no one is supposed to go.
Not even the sixth graders go there.
I am impressed.
I try to act stern as I beg him to come down.
Bribery does not work a wit. I am impressed!
I can remember back as a child, My life was always wild, I do not believe it was ever mild, Abuse to me that was done, You shouldn't do that to your son, You shouldn't do that to anyone, My memories not many fun, I made it through yea I won, Break the cycle that was the plan, But I grew up a crazy man, Trying to maintain as best I can, Giving up no I am not a fan, But away from my kids I ran, Hopefully someday they'll see, I didn't want them to be like me, For their forgiveness I do plea, A child like a piece of clay, Must be molded each day, Understanding love along the way, I say to them please be strong, Hopefully it wont be long, My thinking may be wrong, I hope not!