He didn’t like that they were near a playground. Across from it really. She had pulled over to take offer her hoody and he could feel his nerves tighten as he looked around the neighborhood. School would be in session for wherever the students were. There were no kids in sight. A big relief. He felt the stinging eyes of watchful parents up and down the street looking in at them. Her shirt slipped up and stuck above her bra and he thought of the world looking back at him, specifically him, in disgust at his perversions.
I remember being a little kid and swinging so high I punched holes in the clouds with my converse-covered toe. What joy came with being a five year old. No one could touch me when I floated amongst the heavens. It was better than living down on Earth.
He hadn’t been to the playground in years. The last time he tried to kiss a girl. This time he was looking for something else. The codes to the secret cave were buried here. He just wasn’t sure how may people he was going to have to kill.
She looked around. The old slide stood rusted and creaking, the swings swinging sadly in the wind. She sighed. She knew this place well. Everyday after school, she used to go here with her sister. But her sister was gone now. Everything was gone.
A small silence passed between us, and I fiddled with the locket that hung around my neck. Finally, he glanced up at me. “Wanna hit the playground?”
I followed his gaze to where about a dozen kids were running around screaming playfully while their parents more or less watched.
I blinked, expecting him to crack a smile. When he didn’t, I slapped his head lightly. “We’re twenty, not two.” I stood and brushed off my jeans. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
The playground was Callie’s favorite place. She had been going there ever since she was a little kid, there were so many memories there. She even met her best friend Holly there. Holly and Callie were inseparable.
The place where two people meet. The place where two people can fall in love. Even from children, their love can grow. And it grew in that place. A place where you can find love. A place where you can find a friend. A place where a new relationship can starts. It doesn’t even have to be children. It can be two teenagers on a date. Two people. Together. One of the most amazing things in this world.
The playground of my heart keeps spinning out of control. No one plUs herd but it feels like there are footsteps everywhere imbedded for life there. How to make this feeling go away is the question of the century to feel stable again and not on a merry go round.
He scanned the room, and say lots of possibilities. He had only one objective that day, he had to pick his target well. But with so many to choose from, he was like a child in a playground. He would take his time, try out all the toys,before making his decision.
this is where I remember the way my white shoes streaked into lightning as I ran. my little 10 year old brain made the whole world a fantasy land of super powers and no future and the wind in your hair and waiting for recess.
I feel like we lose something when we forget what it is to really play.
Playgrounds are sad when they are empty – when swings creak too slowly, not from fiercely pumping legs but from an empty wind. It makes me sad, it seems desolate. There should be children screaming and chasing each other around; there should be frustrated parents trying to get their children to settle down for a snack, or to stop them from climbing too high up on the jungle gym. Empty playgrounds are sad.
Once in a while, I would go outside and look at the swing set in my backyard. I didn’t know why it was ever there in the first place; I never played with it, anyway. It stayed there. Alone. Unwanted. Neglected. What was I to do with it? I’m not a little girl anymore. I really should get rid of it, but I can’t. Too many memories on that thing. Too many.
My thoughts are a play ground.
my emotions a slide.
I think of you and It takes me higher.
I laugh and play and scream and shriek.
You are my everything.
every school I went to
up until high school
had a playground
playgrounds define my childhood
the monkey bars where Justin fell and broke his arm in elementary school
the slides we climbed up
and the hot lava games where the playground was our safety
how many kids grew up playing outside
playing on a playground
hot lava
I played that with my little 6 year old on a monday
a sunny day
those memories of playing outside
bring back happiness
happiness that cannot be explained
it just happened
Jinx sat on the rooftop, eyes listlessly scanning the horizon.
They drifted downwards, towards the playground with the screaming children hopping around.
She watched them for some time, and… she didn’t get bored. Even after they all left and she had moved around to other rooftops, her eyes kept straying back to that playground.
The three of us went to the metal playground once a week, which is was dark enough for the children to have gone home already, but light enough for us to see past the horde of pine trees rising from the incline of dry grass and gray earth. It also meant it was cool enough for us to go down the massive slides, the alloy curling into deep, embracing springs as my brother tried climbing up the slope while I screamed for him to stop so I could shimmy down and hit the sand with my open palms outward.
Magical things go to die in the playground. I remember getting the concept of ‘pumping’ on the swings. Independence. Grown up. I also remember the two outstretched legs of Michael Smith driving into my stomach as I obliviously walked in front of them, slamming me to the ground. I remember the first time having the wind knocked out of me. I thought I was going to die.
The playground darkened around me, silhouettes cheering each other in a sick and twisted way. My hand clutched my chest, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes began to dilate. No. Not this again.
I could feel my body begging for some kind of release, these clothes binding to my skin with absolutely no mercy.
The sand sunk into her shoes as she ran to the swings, racing her friend. They jumped on and with a quick gust, took off into the sky. Every time they went up, for a brief second it would feel as if they were flying. Her clammy hands clinged onto the cold chain links on the sides as she went down. She closed her eyes and felt the air brush up against her cheeks and run through her hair.
your bones were weary when you feel down the sledgy sludgy sleigh-eyed bows. and my mama kissed your bruisy brown hair to calm you down of your airy-high woes and streams of tears. oh darlings, darlingly approaching me on the playgroundy kiss.
laughter sprinkled through my ears
a memory, never hazy in my mind
it was a crisp, fall day, the sky was bright and blue
you stood there
looking at me
eyes wide and bright
two years later I watched those eyes close.
silent lonely children, swallowing the ground, overcoming, the area with a noise so deafeningly quiet, it is overwhelming, usually there is laughter, joy, playing and smiles. but not today. the only noise is the rain, covering the asphalt in a wet film and slickening the walkways.
The playground, usually bright and filled with laughter, was quiet and still in the briskness of the November air. Steps echoing loudly in her ears and, as she crunched through the thin layer of snow to the dried leaves and branches beneath, sharp eyes scanned the deserted equipment for a sign of her contact.
“Tyrell?” a voice rang out, high and feminine in the silence of the night.
“Stark,” she said, turning to face her. “Didn’t think you’d show,”
“I didn’t think I would either,”
Swings were always my favourite, and they still are. the feeling of flying and floating, and the blue sky above is so freeing. Fluffy clouds, like a bird, float away from my humdrum and often painful existence. My legs pump and I lean back to embrace the world.
I felt the dirt beneath me end my fall. George towered above me laughing with his gang. The bullies continued to call me names. Playgrounds suck. GGWP.
when sorrow was my playground,
it did not bite or rust within the tunnels of
my soul… but now that I’ve betrayed,
and now that I’ve grown too old for swings
and slides in the stomach-pits of lakes,
it stabs sharper than any mocking drop of rain.
He looked out across the playground, focusing in on the slide as he reminisced on childhood memories of Michael. He remembered when he was too scared to go down the big slide, which was only about a foot higher than his current height, Michael had told him the he didn’t have to worry, he would slide with him.
He stared at the playground, wondering what it would be like to have a child of his own pumping the air on a swing. He wondered if he actually did have a child of his own out there somewhere … perhaps even in this park. It made him a bit sad to realize he’d likely never know.
Life is a playground.
With swings taking you up and down,
With stairs to climb to the top,
and slides making your effort seem wasted.
You can enjoy the ride,
or get dizzy on the merry go rounds.
You can use the monkey bars to hold yourself up
and cross over to places you’ve never been.
Life is a playground and just like when you were a kid,
remember to pick yourself up every time you fall.
a boy was playing in the sandbox, screaming “Gold sand! I found gold sand!”
to which ten other kids hurried towards him, eyes widened in awe, and they said: “Wow, you’re so cool! Are you growing up to be a gold digger one day?”, to which the boy replied:
“No, because my grandfather died in the mines. Gold and fortune kills people, he told me, and this golden sand isn’t real–it’s an ilusjon… or however they say it.”
He didn’t like that they were near a playground. Across from it really. She had pulled over to take offer her hoody and he could feel his nerves tighten as he looked around the neighborhood. School would be in session for wherever the students were. There were no kids in sight. A big relief. He felt the stinging eyes of watchful parents up and down the street looking in at them. Her shirt slipped up and stuck above her bra and he thought of the world looking back at him, specifically him, in disgust at his perversions.
Life was beautiful when you were three.
Life is a playground with unwritten rules…
I remember being a little kid and swinging so high I punched holes in the clouds with my converse-covered toe. What joy came with being a five year old. No one could touch me when I floated amongst the heavens. It was better than living down on Earth.
He watched as the children ran around the playground. He sighed in quiet contentment until he noticed something strange, the children had no faces…
He hadn’t been to the playground in years. The last time he tried to kiss a girl. This time he was looking for something else. The codes to the secret cave were buried here. He just wasn’t sure how may people he was going to have to kill.
She looked around. The old slide stood rusted and creaking, the swings swinging sadly in the wind. She sighed. She knew this place well. Everyday after school, she used to go here with her sister. But her sister was gone now. Everything was gone.
The page become a playground. The only place where one world could be lost, and another world created; where another reality could take form.
A small silence passed between us, and I fiddled with the locket that hung around my neck. Finally, he glanced up at me. “Wanna hit the playground?”
I followed his gaze to where about a dozen kids were running around screaming playfully while their parents more or less watched.
I blinked, expecting him to crack a smile. When he didn’t, I slapped his head lightly. “We’re twenty, not two.” I stood and brushed off my jeans. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
I smack you, and then run. You chase me around. Young and free, recklessly innocent love. It is recess, and I get to see my love.
The playground was Callie’s favorite place. She had been going there ever since she was a little kid, there were so many memories there. She even met her best friend Holly there. Holly and Callie were inseparable.
The place where two people meet. The place where two people can fall in love. Even from children, their love can grow. And it grew in that place. A place where you can find love. A place where you can find a friend. A place where a new relationship can starts. It doesn’t even have to be children. It can be two teenagers on a date. Two people. Together. One of the most amazing things in this world.
The playground of my heart keeps spinning out of control. No one plUs herd but it feels like there are footsteps everywhere imbedded for life there. How to make this feeling go away is the question of the century to feel stable again and not on a merry go round.
He scanned the room, and say lots of possibilities. He had only one objective that day, he had to pick his target well. But with so many to choose from, he was like a child in a playground. He would take his time, try out all the toys,before making his decision.
this is where I remember the way my white shoes streaked into lightning as I ran. my little 10 year old brain made the whole world a fantasy land of super powers and no future and the wind in your hair and waiting for recess.
I feel like we lose something when we forget what it is to really play.
Playgrounds are sad when they are empty – when swings creak too slowly, not from fiercely pumping legs but from an empty wind. It makes me sad, it seems desolate. There should be children screaming and chasing each other around; there should be frustrated parents trying to get their children to settle down for a snack, or to stop them from climbing too high up on the jungle gym. Empty playgrounds are sad.
Once in a while, I would go outside and look at the swing set in my backyard. I didn’t know why it was ever there in the first place; I never played with it, anyway. It stayed there. Alone. Unwanted. Neglected. What was I to do with it? I’m not a little girl anymore. I really should get rid of it, but I can’t. Too many memories on that thing. Too many.
My thoughts are a play ground.
my emotions a slide.
I think of you and It takes me higher.
I laugh and play and scream and shriek.
You are my everything.
every school I went to
up until high school
had a playground
playgrounds define my childhood
the monkey bars where Justin fell and broke his arm in elementary school
the slides we climbed up
and the hot lava games where the playground was our safety
how many kids grew up playing outside
playing on a playground
hot lava
I played that with my little 6 year old on a monday
a sunny day
those memories of playing outside
bring back happiness
happiness that cannot be explained
it just happened
Where children’s laughter fills the air, where happiness is spread in the day light, where your life begins as a child.
Jinx sat on the rooftop, eyes listlessly scanning the horizon.
They drifted downwards, towards the playground with the screaming children hopping around.
She watched them for some time, and… she didn’t get bored. Even after they all left and she had moved around to other rooftops, her eyes kept straying back to that playground.
“Those were fun days,” she muttered to herself.
the playground got torn down
which i guess is okay
since it was mostly concrete
and carter greene broke his leg on the monkey bars
The three of us went to the metal playground once a week, which is was dark enough for the children to have gone home already, but light enough for us to see past the horde of pine trees rising from the incline of dry grass and gray earth. It also meant it was cool enough for us to go down the massive slides, the alloy curling into deep, embracing springs as my brother tried climbing up the slope while I screamed for him to stop so I could shimmy down and hit the sand with my open palms outward.
Magical things go to die in the playground. I remember getting the concept of ‘pumping’ on the swings. Independence. Grown up. I also remember the two outstretched legs of Michael Smith driving into my stomach as I obliviously walked in front of them, slamming me to the ground. I remember the first time having the wind knocked out of me. I thought I was going to die.
The playground darkened around me, silhouettes cheering each other in a sick and twisted way. My hand clutched my chest, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes began to dilate. No. Not this again.
I could feel my body begging for some kind of release, these clothes binding to my skin with absolutely no mercy.
The sand sunk into her shoes as she ran to the swings, racing her friend. They jumped on and with a quick gust, took off into the sky. Every time they went up, for a brief second it would feel as if they were flying. Her clammy hands clinged onto the cold chain links on the sides as she went down. She closed her eyes and felt the air brush up against her cheeks and run through her hair.
your bones were weary when you feel down the sledgy sludgy sleigh-eyed bows. and my mama kissed your bruisy brown hair to calm you down of your airy-high woes and streams of tears. oh darlings, darlingly approaching me on the playgroundy kiss.
laughter sprinkled through my ears
a memory, never hazy in my mind
it was a crisp, fall day, the sky was bright and blue
you stood there
looking at me
eyes wide and bright
two years later I watched those eyes close.
silent lonely children, swallowing the ground, overcoming, the area with a noise so deafeningly quiet, it is overwhelming, usually there is laughter, joy, playing and smiles. but not today. the only noise is the rain, covering the asphalt in a wet film and slickening the walkways.
The playground, usually bright and filled with laughter, was quiet and still in the briskness of the November air. Steps echoing loudly in her ears and, as she crunched through the thin layer of snow to the dried leaves and branches beneath, sharp eyes scanned the deserted equipment for a sign of her contact.
“Tyrell?” a voice rang out, high and feminine in the silence of the night.
“Stark,” she said, turning to face her. “Didn’t think you’d show,”
“I didn’t think I would either,”
Swings were always my favourite, and they still are. the feeling of flying and floating, and the blue sky above is so freeing. Fluffy clouds, like a bird, float away from my humdrum and often painful existence. My legs pump and I lean back to embrace the world.
Lets everyone be nice and play on the playground.
A playground. Why do we limit playgrounds to children? I want to play, in a ground.
I felt the dirt beneath me end my fall. George towered above me laughing with his gang. The bullies continued to call me names. Playgrounds suck. GGWP.
when sorrow was my playground,
it did not bite or rust within the tunnels of
my soul… but now that I’ve betrayed,
and now that I’ve grown too old for swings
and slides in the stomach-pits of lakes,
it stabs sharper than any mocking drop of rain.
He looked out across the playground, focusing in on the slide as he reminisced on childhood memories of Michael. He remembered when he was too scared to go down the big slide, which was only about a foot higher than his current height, Michael had told him the he didn’t have to worry, he would slide with him.
He stared at the playground, wondering what it would be like to have a child of his own pumping the air on a swing. He wondered if he actually did have a child of his own out there somewhere … perhaps even in this park. It made him a bit sad to realize he’d likely never know.
Life is a playground.
With swings taking you up and down,
With stairs to climb to the top,
and slides making your effort seem wasted.
You can enjoy the ride,
or get dizzy on the merry go rounds.
You can use the monkey bars to hold yourself up
and cross over to places you’ve never been.
Life is a playground and just like when you were a kid,
remember to pick yourself up every time you fall.
a boy was playing in the sandbox, screaming “Gold sand! I found gold sand!”
to which ten other kids hurried towards him, eyes widened in awe, and they said: “Wow, you’re so cool! Are you growing up to be a gold digger one day?”, to which the boy replied:
“No, because my grandfather died in the mines. Gold and fortune kills people, he told me, and this golden sand isn’t real–it’s an ilusjon… or however they say it.”