Short Second Grade Poems
Short Second Grade Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Second Grade by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Second Grade by length and keyword.
A blue ocean of wonders
dancing around
Blue sky dreams
at the tip of God
Like an unlimited ocean of blues
As a big graveyard
A big blue
and big sky
Blue sky
I was putting my things in my cubby.
Second grade, young, and not yet chubby.
Somehow I stood there
In my nighty-night wear,
I cried while asleep, “Dear God, help me!”
© July 21, 2010
Death and fire consumes the air
Millions of people in despair.
These buildings fall quicker than the Dow
Many just wonder how
I am pulled out of school early
Even though it is just 10:30
I am in second grade
I know not what damage has just been made
I am just the age of seven
The date is 9/11
Mitzy who retired the same day as me said
“One of my parents gave me two hundred dollars.”
“Great!” I replied
“Another gave me a hundred.”
This makes sense. She is a really terrific second grade teacher.
“And then, of course, we got the two hundred dollars from the PTA.”
I am sure she would not have mentioned this
if
she
had
known
that
we
was
only
she.
As sure as the sun rise,
A new school year begins.
Late sleeping is over,
Except for weekends.
Middle school has arrived,
For my sweet Arlyn dear.
For my fearless Austin,
Second grade is here.
With every year passing,
The brighter you become.
You're growing so fast,
Pretty soon you'll be done.
Good luck to my darlings,
On the very first day.
And the rest of the year,
Like a dragon you'll slay.
My second grade grandson’s a writer,
His stories creative and fun,
With spelling that’s just as creative
As the story he’s joyfully spun.
Most often I’m quick to decipher
The words that I don’t understand
But sometimes I’m stymied by letters
Not quite what the books would demand.
So today I resorted to asking
What word was in front of my eyes.
The obvious answer (to someone)
Was, “Nana - of course, it’s disguise!”
...Wait, what’s that you saw on the news?
They’re taking kids down to drag shows?
Teaching them sex in second grade,
when such things their minds cannot know?
Trafficking them to billionaires,
who’s appetites are quite depraved,
while claiming they’re the moral ones,
that all future paths they will blaze?
Those are the monsters we have now,
the cretins that hide in plain sight…
I think I’d prefer vampires,
that would be an easier fight.
Why is it a spelling bee, not a spelling cow?
Well, hey, she said. Let’s not be silly now.
A spelling bee makes sense in what way?
I have to ask this non-thinker, Miss Jay.
Stuck with her for a whole year of school.
She has no imagination, everything is a rule.
Why is an eager beaver not an eager leaguer?
She looks irritated now. Is she mad at me?
Second grade is going to be a horrible trip,
Because first grade frankly has been a complete zip.
How many people in your family?
She is in second grade; she said “one hundred.”
“One hundred people live in your house?”
I think she thought this was funny.
Two, she said.
You and….
Me and my mom and my sister.
That is three, I told her.
She did not argue long.
What does your Mom do? I asked.
She goes on the phone.
What does she do with it?
She texts her cousins and her boss and her mom.
But she doesn’t text her dad.
Why not?
He died in a car wreck.
Silly putty emotions
Modeled with every
Drama on TV.
So shallow.
Happy agony
Not even scraping
The surface.
Pretending,
Like a kindergarten
Block stacking,
It all falls down.
Remember
That year
When you were 6,
And your second grade
Bravery was
All you had to hold?
When your pain
In hell,
In the bathtub
Of all sorts,
Molested your face
And pictures were
Taken, because it's
Love?
Grinding on the kite
You are flying high...
Cause the face hurts too much.
We celebrate in April
Poets and the words they say
And that is why my grandson
(Second grade) told me today:
“In school we’re making poems
Whenever we have writing time
And guess what, Nana? Did you know
That poems don’t have to rhyme?”
Yes, I said, but then explained
That rhyming is a choice.
Without it, I’d feel like I’d speak
With someone else’s voice.
Of course, in poetry the rhyme
Is not the major goal,
Unless the rhyming gene pervades
Your heart and mind and soul.