the playground was full that hot hazy august afternoon. already the children longed for the company of playmates further afield not the kids from their own blocks. shiny faced mothers scolded about hats and dug in brightly coloured tote bags for juices, waters and their own craft or magazine. september is coming, they told themselves as they paged through sweater patterns. september is coming and I get my life back.
THere once was a child her name was Rosalie, one day her parent took her to the playground. Unforutunately for Rosalie she met another young girl whose name was Robyn. Robyn and Rosalie became best of friends throughout their youth until one day when Rosalie’s mother past away. In a time of need Robyn abandoned Rosalie to her own fate..
He sat next to me on the playground bench, it was silent. In the distance I could hear the soft rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. Slowly, his arm moved around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. With a light smile on my face I leaned against him, closing my eyes and finally relaxing..
She smiled, looking down at the children playing on the playground. A tall, dark haired man walked up wrapping his arms around a small boy as he picked him up. He smiled.
Side by side.
Sitting upon chain linked seats.
Suspended a few feet
above the soil.
Momentum propels us.
Back and forth
Higher and higher.
Falling upwards
into the sky.
Paused for a brief moment
Hanging in midair.
Then swinging back
down to earth.
The sunshine smiles
down upon me.
Bringing me back
to where worries
vanished to the tempo
of the playground swings.
i run around the monkeybars, hitting the ugly and unpleasant children that laugh at my sneakers. screw you, they light up and make me run faster. thats why you cants catch me, little freak.
Life was my playground. Since Mom and Dad died, I’ve only had Abu to keep my company and roam the Agrabah streets hunting for food. Playing all day in those streets was a blast, too.
All I had was a playground. It was down the block behind Abraham’s house. He was my best friend growing up. He recently passed and I spent literally 4 days at that playground. I cried so hard. I miss you, Abe. RIP.
They play on the playground, on a a chilled winter day. The metal bars as cold as ice. Swinging from the monkey bars, sliding down the slides. So fulfilled of life. So small. So innocent. But where are they now. Appears so little to have their lives taken away. Each one of their dead souls becoming a glistening star high up above. Now the playground remains empty, no children to swing on the monkey bars or slide down the slide. For death has snatched them away into a world of souls, a world of the un-living. Who ever knew…
Where
yesterday we played on the playground. we saw a bug an a caterpillar. i like to swing a lot. We went for a walk in the woods to look for bugs. We didn’t find any though.
The playground rules.
When someone starts bull dog EVERYONE must join in
Boys and Girls can play together, but lets face it. Girl gangs are way cooler and better than boy gangs
I sit on the swings, rocking gently, remembering the times when my feet couldn’t reach the molch and and I had to be pushed. The slides remind me of times when I would climb up them, thinking of how daring I was, when I would stop in the middle and laugh as my sister crashed into me. I remember some of my favorite times and I smile, wishing I could go back.
There’s a beer on my story idea. My entire desk is some sort of alcoholic’s playground, empty bottles masturbating to adverbs en masse before a suicide occurs: the lager jumps ship. The dog jumps, sniffs, and I pour myself another vodka out of the freezer, killing twelve new characters in the process.
Once on the playground I, like all the other kids that played on it, scraped my knee on a crooked nail that stuck out of the wood. They tore the entire playground down; too many kids had scraped knees.
With a rent in his mental space you could drive a new Boeing Dreamliner through, Jensen flopped hard onto the sandy ground of a playground in the middle of Nagoya, Japan.
Hackers’ Playground is covered in dust. You walk through the doorway and encounter a giant cloud of dust, which settles all over your clothes and into your skin. The sight that you see when you’re done, though, is just plain enticing.
The playground of life. I wish I could just play like a child and forget is it real, forget yesterday and tomorrow and just play, joyfully, freely, full of love an innocence. I have left this body and forgot you sweet child, when you knew the truth all along.
in the playground
girls were always hanging
on the edges
hanging
on each others
every word
in time they found
girls hanging
on the edges
hung on every word.
I sit on a park bench and watch them. Running around. Swings. Slides. The mothers tut at me, but I can’t help but stare. I know they think I’m wierd, they think I’m a creep. They’re probably right, but this is just who I am. As the last one shakes their head, I think of that song… ‘Born this Way’ by Lady Gaga… I was born this way.
I like to go to the playground. We live about a mile away from one. It is a fun playground and it’s in a little neighborhood. We live on a busy road but it’s not on the busy road. We go to the park for birthday parties and stuff and it’s a really fun place. I would even like to have a party there if I could.
He was in a crowd, swimming with people he had never seen before. Strangers. Minds that thought alike, minds that didn’t know yet. He enjoyed this moment, this playground of what if`s, a medley of compulsive similarities.
The little boy wearing the blue hooded fleece jacket ran up the slide, then he jumped over everyone’s head down the ladder to the ground. He turned around and laughed at everyone else on the slide. I watched him with wonder, he was about the revolutionize playground play forever!
He was in a crowd, swimming with people she had never met before. Strangers. Minds that thought alike, minds that didn`t know it yet. All these words and stories never told. He enjoyed this moment, this playground of what if`s.
I liked playing on the playground as a little kid, especially in elementary school. Every recess, I would play on the swings, the slides, and even the spider web. I was most afraid of playing on the monkey bars, especially because I was afraid of heights. I was never able to conquer my fear, even today. I still try to play on the monkey bars whenever I take my little cousins to play. The bars hurt, and I’m not coordinated enough to swing from bar to bar. Monkey bars are what keep me from being happy whenever I’m near a playground. The thought of them makes me feel a bit regretful.
the fall leaves on the green grass, and the rocks that the swing set its on and the way everything smells , everything together, the leaves and the childrens sweat. it reminds me of fall. and finding stuff people leave there to be hidden.
this is a playground for peace
where we don’t play for keeps
it’s a sweeter type of place
where you are what you eat
and we have quality calories
and acquire the right things
to make us energized and happy
and so joyful we could sing
we hold hands because it feels good
and love the way we look
at one another
we love each other
and we never doubt it
Playground. The first thing I think of is Children. The oh-so happy chilren. I remember when I would be so care-free like them. But we all grow up. And so will those children. New sets of children soon take their place. We all get replaced. But that’s up to us to chose.
Well I just passed by a playground on my way home from work. There were many children out all very tiny. I wish could play o a play ground but alas I am sick. I need rest and tea and hugs.
Wishes.
My wish, to become free. Free from stress. Free from my life. It’s all pressuring. I can’t take it. Wishes, don’t come true forever. So I shall thrive, and thrive, waiting. Time passes by. I live on false hope. The only thing I can do is wait. But waiting is pain. Paining me, everyday.
this world is my playground i wnat it to be mine that is a guge ass that just walked past me and that could be my playground and that ass is actually eating her pants she would casue way too many distractions on the playground come play around on this play ground make monkey sounds onf the monkey bar while you are playing on the playground whoo whoo haaa haaa
On the playground, there were two men. They sat on the swings without saying a word to each other, their fingers wrapped around the chains, their feet dangling in the wind. One child complained to his mother that the swings were taken, but she scolded him for his harsh words.
“Let them sit there,” she said. “It’s been a long day for them both.”
He could see the playground from his bedroom window. The sounds of children playing always unnerved him, because it reminded him that his life was never fun anymore. All he did was sit inside and hope for better days.
Many children come to the playground for fun and games. Not all of them see the darkness that lurks all around them. The trolls beneath the merry-go-round. The evil sprites that hide beneath the slide. Or, most dangerous of all, the boogeymen playing peek-a-boo beneath their parents legs on the park benches.
I am starting to see the whole world as my playground. I’m not scared to go explore, now. As long as he’s by my side, I think that any adventure we try to embark on will be a positive one. That’s how I remember trips to the playground, so it’s pretty exciting to me that I view my whole life that way now
the playground was covered in snow, the children giggling happily as they ran to it. it had been a cold winter, and now it was February, so the kids could finally get out and play, even though it was still cold out.
the playground was full that hot hazy august afternoon. already the children longed for the company of playmates further afield not the kids from their own blocks. shiny faced mothers scolded about hats and dug in brightly coloured tote bags for juices, waters and their own craft or magazine. september is coming, they told themselves as they paged through sweater patterns. september is coming and I get my life back.
THere once was a child her name was Rosalie, one day her parent took her to the playground. Unforutunately for Rosalie she met another young girl whose name was Robyn. Robyn and Rosalie became best of friends throughout their youth until one day when Rosalie’s mother past away. In a time of need Robyn abandoned Rosalie to her own fate..
He sat next to me on the playground bench, it was silent. In the distance I could hear the soft rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. Slowly, his arm moved around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. With a light smile on my face I leaned against him, closing my eyes and finally relaxing..
She smiled, looking down at the children playing on the playground. A tall, dark haired man walked up wrapping his arms around a small boy as he picked him up. He smiled.
Side by side.
Sitting upon chain linked seats.
Suspended a few feet
above the soil.
Momentum propels us.
Back and forth
Higher and higher.
Falling upwards
into the sky.
Paused for a brief moment
Hanging in midair.
Then swinging back
down to earth.
The sunshine smiles
down upon me.
Bringing me back
to where worries
vanished to the tempo
of the playground swings.
i run around the monkeybars, hitting the ugly and unpleasant children that laugh at my sneakers. screw you, they light up and make me run faster. thats why you cants catch me, little freak.
Life was my playground. Since Mom and Dad died, I’ve only had Abu to keep my company and roam the Agrabah streets hunting for food. Playing all day in those streets was a blast, too.
All I had was a playground. It was down the block behind Abraham’s house. He was my best friend growing up. He recently passed and I spent literally 4 days at that playground. I cried so hard. I miss you, Abe. RIP.
i had this word last time.
the playground has swings
the playground is for children
the playground is so fun
Haiku…
done.
the mind is a playground
i was most at home there as a child
but as a teen i could not deign
to love it
now though i return and find
great joy
They play on the playground, on a a chilled winter day. The metal bars as cold as ice. Swinging from the monkey bars, sliding down the slides. So fulfilled of life. So small. So innocent. But where are they now. Appears so little to have their lives taken away. Each one of their dead souls becoming a glistening star high up above. Now the playground remains empty, no children to swing on the monkey bars or slide down the slide. For death has snatched them away into a world of souls, a world of the un-living. Who ever knew…
Where
Have
All
The
Children
Gone
yesterday we played on the playground. we saw a bug an a caterpillar. i like to swing a lot. We went for a walk in the woods to look for bugs. We didn’t find any though.
The playground rules.
When someone starts bull dog EVERYONE must join in
Boys and Girls can play together, but lets face it. Girl gangs are way cooler and better than boy gangs
I sit on the swings, rocking gently, remembering the times when my feet couldn’t reach the molch and and I had to be pushed. The slides remind me of times when I would climb up them, thinking of how daring I was, when I would stop in the middle and laugh as my sister crashed into me. I remember some of my favorite times and I smile, wishing I could go back.
There’s a beer on my story idea. My entire desk is some sort of alcoholic’s playground, empty bottles masturbating to adverbs en masse before a suicide occurs: the lager jumps ship. The dog jumps, sniffs, and I pour myself another vodka out of the freezer, killing twelve new characters in the process.
Once on the playground I, like all the other kids that played on it, scraped my knee on a crooked nail that stuck out of the wood. They tore the entire playground down; too many kids had scraped knees.
With a rent in his mental space you could drive a new Boeing Dreamliner through, Jensen flopped hard onto the sandy ground of a playground in the middle of Nagoya, Japan.
Whoomph!!
Do you remember the games we used to play at Manor Field? His eyes lit up. “The super secret spy one was the best!”
Hackers’ Playground is covered in dust. You walk through the doorway and encounter a giant cloud of dust, which settles all over your clothes and into your skin. The sight that you see when you’re done, though, is just plain enticing.
The playground of life. I wish I could just play like a child and forget is it real, forget yesterday and tomorrow and just play, joyfully, freely, full of love an innocence. I have left this body and forgot you sweet child, when you knew the truth all along.
in the playground
girls were always hanging
on the edges
hanging
on each others
every word
in time they found
girls hanging
on the edges
hung on every word.
I sit on a park bench and watch them. Running around. Swings. Slides. The mothers tut at me, but I can’t help but stare. I know they think I’m wierd, they think I’m a creep. They’re probably right, but this is just who I am. As the last one shakes their head, I think of that song… ‘Born this Way’ by Lady Gaga… I was born this way.
I like to go to the playground. We live about a mile away from one. It is a fun playground and it’s in a little neighborhood. We live on a busy road but it’s not on the busy road. We go to the park for birthday parties and stuff and it’s a really fun place. I would even like to have a party there if I could.
He was in a crowd, swimming with people he had never seen before. Strangers. Minds that thought alike, minds that didn’t know yet. He enjoyed this moment, this playground of what if`s, a medley of compulsive similarities.
The little boy wearing the blue hooded fleece jacket ran up the slide, then he jumped over everyone’s head down the ladder to the ground. He turned around and laughed at everyone else on the slide. I watched him with wonder, he was about the revolutionize playground play forever!
He was in a crowd, swimming with people she had never met before. Strangers. Minds that thought alike, minds that didn`t know it yet. All these words and stories never told. He enjoyed this moment, this playground of what if`s.
I liked playing on the playground as a little kid, especially in elementary school. Every recess, I would play on the swings, the slides, and even the spider web. I was most afraid of playing on the monkey bars, especially because I was afraid of heights. I was never able to conquer my fear, even today. I still try to play on the monkey bars whenever I take my little cousins to play. The bars hurt, and I’m not coordinated enough to swing from bar to bar. Monkey bars are what keep me from being happy whenever I’m near a playground. The thought of them makes me feel a bit regretful.
bo
the fall leaves on the green grass, and the rocks that the swing set its on and the way everything smells , everything together, the leaves and the childrens sweat. it reminds me of fall. and finding stuff people leave there to be hidden.
this is a playground for peace
where we don’t play for keeps
it’s a sweeter type of place
where you are what you eat
and we have quality calories
and acquire the right things
to make us energized and happy
and so joyful we could sing
we hold hands because it feels good
and love the way we look
at one another
we love each other
and we never doubt it
© L
Playground. The first thing I think of is Children. The oh-so happy chilren. I remember when I would be so care-free like them. But we all grow up. And so will those children. New sets of children soon take their place. We all get replaced. But that’s up to us to chose.
Well I just passed by a playground on my way home from work. There were many children out all very tiny. I wish could play o a play ground but alas I am sick. I need rest and tea and hugs.
Wishes.
My wish, to become free. Free from stress. Free from my life. It’s all pressuring. I can’t take it. Wishes, don’t come true forever. So I shall thrive, and thrive, waiting. Time passes by. I live on false hope. The only thing I can do is wait. But waiting is pain. Paining me, everyday.
this world is my playground i wnat it to be mine that is a guge ass that just walked past me and that could be my playground and that ass is actually eating her pants she would casue way too many distractions on the playground come play around on this play ground make monkey sounds onf the monkey bar while you are playing on the playground whoo whoo haaa haaa
On the playground, there were two men. They sat on the swings without saying a word to each other, their fingers wrapped around the chains, their feet dangling in the wind. One child complained to his mother that the swings were taken, but she scolded him for his harsh words.
“Let them sit there,” she said. “It’s been a long day for them both.”
He could see the playground from his bedroom window. The sounds of children playing always unnerved him, because it reminded him that his life was never fun anymore. All he did was sit inside and hope for better days.
Many children come to the playground for fun and games. Not all of them see the darkness that lurks all around them. The trolls beneath the merry-go-round. The evil sprites that hide beneath the slide. Or, most dangerous of all, the boogeymen playing peek-a-boo beneath their parents legs on the park benches.
I am starting to see the whole world as my playground. I’m not scared to go explore, now. As long as he’s by my side, I think that any adventure we try to embark on will be a positive one. That’s how I remember trips to the playground, so it’s pretty exciting to me that I view my whole life that way now
the playground was covered in snow, the children giggling happily as they ran to it. it had been a cold winter, and now it was February, so the kids could finally get out and play, even though it was still cold out.
There is a playground close to my house. It’s green and badge and blue and black.