Basking in cold weather, in the morning, the playground was empty. Some mothers arrived with children. But then they left just as quickly as they came, wheels crunching down the drive. The playground was a white space, filled with empty noise. Two children, holding hands, walked towards the school door. It was time for assembly. Johnny, however, wasn’t there that day and no one knew where he was.
The morning dawned just like all the others these holidays Wet, miserable and cold. there would be no playground visit today either. With precious few days left of their time together, Nadia was doubtful they’d ever get to play outside on the play equipment.
It was so much fun to go out alay t scool as a kid. We aways had such a great time. It was a fantatc way to grow up–out in he fresh air of the country wih kids I had known all my life. I sometimes wish I could go bck to that time, and fall makes me particuarly nostalgic. Everone got along We liked our teachers. Our world was small but happy and safe. It would be lovely to spend just one more day–one more hour–flying on the merry-go-round, listening to the laughter of the other kids, and just being, not worrying or thinking or planning, just being. Life is never that way again. The playground is a magical place.
the place where all the memories of our childhood started. the one day where we found a ladybug hiding under a leaf, the time we spent 20 straight minutes trying to be the one person who could fly, the time we built that snowman and used our own mittens to cover its hands and ran inside to drink the strengthening hot cocoa
i want to play. i want to swing. i want o hold your hand and play patty cake. i want to sing and dance with you. i want to kiss you behind the swing set with out anybody else knowing. i want us to be they way we were when we were younger. lets swing on the swing, and play on the monkey bars one last time…
i played on that playground for hours on end. jumping my bike through mud puddles, and riding home in the rain storm. that playground was where we always hung out and played, it is also where i drop-kicked a kid down the hill for hitting my brother with a rock.
I used to chase my best friend on the playground at recess. Only, at the time he wasn’t my best friend. I thought he was cute and I wanted to play with him, but we couldn’t because he was a boy and I was a girl and that, of course, is taboo at the age of 4. I don’t really know when we became best friends, or when we started liking each other, or when I started to push him out of the window of the playhouse on the playground, but it happened, too. I’ve never looked back from that since…I don’t remember doing this, either, but I guess I kissed him on the playground. I guess that’s when he decided that he was going to marry me when we grew up. And he told me that, some 15 years later, that he remembered that kiss and that he knew that I was the one. It was sad, though because I knew I was in love with someone else. It just made me want to go back to that playground and be 4 again.
The playground is silent and empty. The recent rainstorm had left everything wet. I moved quietly through the park, weaving my way through the swings to the forest on the other side. I checked behind me and then hurried into the trees. After about five minutes I left the path to the left and headed deeper into the woods. I finally arrived at the tree stump, where I was supposed to wait. I checked my watch, I was on time. Looking slowly around I wondered where he was.
Suddenly something grabbed my arm, I turned quickly ready to fight. But the figure grabbed my other hand and the tightness in my chest released as I realized who it was.
“You scared me.”
“You came.” he said shocked.
“Of course I did.” I said looking up at him.
“But…but I’m leaving…for a long time. Probably forever. If your coming with me, we’ll be roughing it and…you’ll never see anyone again. You won’t be dancing anymore.”he looked at the ground.
I made him look at me in the eyes and smiled, “Your my best friend, my only friend. And you are who I want to be with.”
His eyes showed his happiness and he grabbed me tightly in a hug.
I giggled, “Come on. Let’s get out of this town.” I whispered.
My hand in his, we headed off into the forest.
On the playground, I see it. The swings, the wind brushing the seats into slight action. The slide where I can imagine the children laughing as they tumble back down towards Earth. The playground, abandoned as it is, can hold so much more then a child’s dream land.
I miss playgrounds. I don’t understand why they cut recess. I think that kids need recess. Grownups need recess. I need recess. Let’s elect a President that allows adult recess. Work needs recess. Playgrounds for all!!! Elect me and I’ll let you slide down a metal slide. I’ll bring back metal to playgrounds around America. YES! This idea is rock solid awesome.
I wish I had a playground. When I was a kid, my elementary school had a playground–big and yellow and blue, and all the bees and hornets were attracted to it like it was honey. We wanted to play on it so bad, but when the weather was finally cold enough for the bees and hornets to go away, the monkey bars were too cold to hold. And forget about the slide, man. Just forget it.
“I want you to close your eyes and kiss me” she said in the most sultry voice she could muster up. I did as I was told. It was warm and her tongue was maleable against my own. Her breath had the last cigarette we smoked together on it. It was nice, but it didn’t change anything. I was still a gay man kissing my fag-hag on a playground meant for children much younger than us.
back in the day, the playground was good.
the break from following instructions
from sitting still
I was curious to learn but far to fidgety for the classroom
and in the playground I could run
run as fast as my little legs would carry me
I had my share of knocks and bruises
hell, some of the time I was running from bullies and threats
and really, I wasn’t free
but it certainly felt like it
and it was exhilarating to think of this small little place as an escape from the tired teachings crammed down our throats…
by i did quite well in school though on 09.27.2011
i was in the playgorund with my bestfriend, we were playing hide n seek, i ran beside some bushes while she counts and i found a caterpillar, i ts was strange the way it was so little and colorful and harmless.
The two children roughhoused in the wood chips of the playground, so young and innocent. They were not jaded nor broken; they hadn’t yet experienced the hurt this world can cause.
Then one fell, ever so slowly, and broke skin. The children cried, one hurting as the other watched. They didn’t know what to do.
An architect of sorts, you surround my heap of wood determined to flame it up into something grand… you admire the way my eyes melt down your every move and begin to conjure up memories past; you’re back home, young… you’re building tents with your sister in your room from hand stitched quilts and heavy things… you’re building me a playground, you’re hanging me a swing.
i was once a small little elf who loved to play on the reindeers playground. i wasnt supposed to be there because the current civil war between the elf workers and santa and his ever so loyal reindeers. anyways i was playing there one day and ran into an odd fellow with a corn cobb pipe and a button nose who gave me an idea on how to commandeer the playground all for myself…
The kids on the playground had no idea what we did the night before. If they did, their mothers would surely come out running, snatching their children by their little hands, scrubbing them raw and praying rosaries over their heads. That makes me so happy.
The playground was completely empty at 2 pm on a Wednesday. I didn’t know where my teachers were, or my friends, and for some reason I didn’t mind. I was at peace, moreso then than ever before. Or since.
A place where children play and interact with other humans of their own age group. I myself often used to play at one of these playgrounds it was very enjoyable. The swings were my favorite although they made me nauseous.
It was when I first met you that we were in elementary school. We were on the playground. Two boys were chasing me and I was getting tired. You chased after them, keeping them away from me. You saved me that day and you have continued to save me ever since the first day we met.
The playground is a beautiful place to be. The playground attracts people of all ages, especially little children with their mothers. the playground is adjacent to a diner. The diner is owned by a wealthy man called Lincoln.
i like the playground it makes me happy and reminds me of my childhood how i miss it the sand the swings the handlebars the jungle gym ugh the good old days how i want to go back i miss the simple days were nothing was impossible
The blood ran down the wooden panels of the merry-go round and was quickly absorbed by the dry sand below. Grant West was not my favorite person in the world. He teased me and got me in trouble once. But he was dead now and there was a sick feeling growing in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to push him so hard. Why was this happening, I wondered.
I ran through the playground overjoyed that my favorite swing was free at last. I hadn’t been back here since my best friend moved away a few months ago. We used to be able to share the swing, and we could stay on there for hours, laughing and joking at everything life had to throw at us.
when i was young, playgrounds were much more dangerous than they are now. it would not be uncommon to see bloodstains beneath the mangled half-green, half-rust bars.
Little Jeremy danced around the playground. He always enjoyed the music in his head more than any I played for him. I would catch him, sitting and the piano, playing as soft as he could. I know he loved me, but I always knew someday he would grow past what his older brother could teach him.
there was this huge, huge slide; and not just huge because you were so little and it was so big- this thing was grand. so grand that years later, damn litigious society, it was taken out. i was always to scared to go down it, and i don’t know that i ever did. i preferred hanging out underneath the branches of the ginormous pine tree.
the playground was always a fun and exciring place as a kid. i made loads of friends durings recess and walked my dog in countlees playgrounds. the swings were always my favorite becasue if you jumped out at just the right time, you felt like you were flying. it is amazing!!
We sat on the spinning saucer of a merry-go-round, she and I, snapping photos of one another among grubby children. My hair cropped short to my head like a boy’s, fat and sad, taking the moment to believe I was something else, awkwardly posing like I believed I was a pretty girl.
today i revistied my elementary school playground. they had redone it from when i went there. i can still see where everything used to be tho. the swings the slides. and with each new piece comes a flood of memories from that place.
Sam ran back and forth, trying to catch James as his legs swung out into space. Death. Death is coming. The thought filled him with such terror that when James dropped out of the air, Sam was too busy being scared of James’ injury to catch him. James hit the pavement, broke his legs. The infection came some weeks later.
The playground is a place to push and shove the opposite sex.
Show affection when we don’t know how to kiss.
Live in the dirt that scrapes our hands.
So serious to hurt the ones we love but don’t understand.
Forging our lives through the years of denial.
Us kids don’t think we know better when we fight like beasts.
The prime sexual urges on the brink of manifestation.
Will haunt us for years while I sit in the corner quiet.
Never to question Freud in his theories
While I crumble before the feet of Woman.
In dreams I creep through windows
Following a blank face down the stairs
Only to find my mother down there.
She ran across the playground with her blond hair waving out behind her. Her joy in being alive evident in her every movement. A glance at the sky, an exuberant laugh, and the spring in her step.
You hear the way the swingset sings, all sad and tired, the aching voice of children left behind.
You hear the way the wind blows, forlorn and lost, lonely like the little girl who sat on the sidelines while the others played soccer across the blacktop.
You hear the way the children’s laughter isn’t there, emptied, drawn out and blanked on, until there is no recollection, and still the swingset sings, all sad and tired, like children left behind or forgotten.
Basking in cold weather, in the morning, the playground was empty. Some mothers arrived with children. But then they left just as quickly as they came, wheels crunching down the drive. The playground was a white space, filled with empty noise. Two children, holding hands, walked towards the school door. It was time for assembly. Johnny, however, wasn’t there that day and no one knew where he was.
The morning dawned just like all the others these holidays Wet, miserable and cold. there would be no playground visit today either. With precious few days left of their time together, Nadia was doubtful they’d ever get to play outside on the play equipment.
It was so much fun to go out alay t scool as a kid. We aways had such a great time. It was a fantatc way to grow up–out in he fresh air of the country wih kids I had known all my life. I sometimes wish I could go bck to that time, and fall makes me particuarly nostalgic. Everone got along We liked our teachers. Our world was small but happy and safe. It would be lovely to spend just one more day–one more hour–flying on the merry-go-round, listening to the laughter of the other kids, and just being, not worrying or thinking or planning, just being. Life is never that way again. The playground is a magical place.
the place where all the memories of our childhood started. the one day where we found a ladybug hiding under a leaf, the time we spent 20 straight minutes trying to be the one person who could fly, the time we built that snowman and used our own mittens to cover its hands and ran inside to drink the strengthening hot cocoa
i want to play. i want to swing. i want o hold your hand and play patty cake. i want to sing and dance with you. i want to kiss you behind the swing set with out anybody else knowing. i want us to be they way we were when we were younger. lets swing on the swing, and play on the monkey bars one last time…
i played on that playground for hours on end. jumping my bike through mud puddles, and riding home in the rain storm. that playground was where we always hung out and played, it is also where i drop-kicked a kid down the hill for hitting my brother with a rock.
I used to chase my best friend on the playground at recess. Only, at the time he wasn’t my best friend. I thought he was cute and I wanted to play with him, but we couldn’t because he was a boy and I was a girl and that, of course, is taboo at the age of 4. I don’t really know when we became best friends, or when we started liking each other, or when I started to push him out of the window of the playhouse on the playground, but it happened, too. I’ve never looked back from that since…I don’t remember doing this, either, but I guess I kissed him on the playground. I guess that’s when he decided that he was going to marry me when we grew up. And he told me that, some 15 years later, that he remembered that kiss and that he knew that I was the one. It was sad, though because I knew I was in love with someone else. It just made me want to go back to that playground and be 4 again.
The playground is silent and empty. The recent rainstorm had left everything wet. I moved quietly through the park, weaving my way through the swings to the forest on the other side. I checked behind me and then hurried into the trees. After about five minutes I left the path to the left and headed deeper into the woods. I finally arrived at the tree stump, where I was supposed to wait. I checked my watch, I was on time. Looking slowly around I wondered where he was.
Suddenly something grabbed my arm, I turned quickly ready to fight. But the figure grabbed my other hand and the tightness in my chest released as I realized who it was.
“You scared me.”
“You came.” he said shocked.
“Of course I did.” I said looking up at him.
“But…but I’m leaving…for a long time. Probably forever. If your coming with me, we’ll be roughing it and…you’ll never see anyone again. You won’t be dancing anymore.”he looked at the ground.
I made him look at me in the eyes and smiled, “Your my best friend, my only friend. And you are who I want to be with.”
His eyes showed his happiness and he grabbed me tightly in a hug.
I giggled, “Come on. Let’s get out of this town.” I whispered.
My hand in his, we headed off into the forest.
I stand in the school playground and scan the sea of faces, the mass of blue sweaters. There he is, laughter and a sweet smile, my boy.
On the playground, I see it. The swings, the wind brushing the seats into slight action. The slide where I can imagine the children laughing as they tumble back down towards Earth. The playground, abandoned as it is, can hold so much more then a child’s dream land.
I miss playgrounds. I don’t understand why they cut recess. I think that kids need recess. Grownups need recess. I need recess. Let’s elect a President that allows adult recess. Work needs recess. Playgrounds for all!!! Elect me and I’ll let you slide down a metal slide. I’ll bring back metal to playgrounds around America. YES! This idea is rock solid awesome.
I wish I had a playground. When I was a kid, my elementary school had a playground–big and yellow and blue, and all the bees and hornets were attracted to it like it was honey. We wanted to play on it so bad, but when the weather was finally cold enough for the bees and hornets to go away, the monkey bars were too cold to hold. And forget about the slide, man. Just forget it.
I imagine the and look into the stars from the playground. I hear laughs, screams, brawls. They are for kids, where adults have to look after.
“I want you to close your eyes and kiss me” she said in the most sultry voice she could muster up. I did as I was told. It was warm and her tongue was maleable against my own. Her breath had the last cigarette we smoked together on it. It was nice, but it didn’t change anything. I was still a gay man kissing my fag-hag on a playground meant for children much younger than us.
A very different place at night. The grown-ups come out to swing.
back in the day, the playground was good.
the break from following instructions
from sitting still
I was curious to learn but far to fidgety for the classroom
and in the playground I could run
run as fast as my little legs would carry me
I had my share of knocks and bruises
hell, some of the time I was running from bullies and threats
and really, I wasn’t free
but it certainly felt like it
and it was exhilarating to think of this small little place as an escape from the tired teachings crammed down our throats…
i was in the playgorund with my bestfriend, we were playing hide n seek, i ran beside some bushes while she counts and i found a caterpillar, i ts was strange the way it was so little and colorful and harmless.
The two children roughhoused in the wood chips of the playground, so young and innocent. They were not jaded nor broken; they hadn’t yet experienced the hurt this world can cause.
Then one fell, ever so slowly, and broke skin. The children cried, one hurting as the other watched. They didn’t know what to do.
An architect of sorts, you surround my heap of wood determined to flame it up into something grand… you admire the way my eyes melt down your every move and begin to conjure up memories past; you’re back home, young… you’re building tents with your sister in your room from hand stitched quilts and heavy things… you’re building me a playground, you’re hanging me a swing.
i was once a small little elf who loved to play on the reindeers playground. i wasnt supposed to be there because the current civil war between the elf workers and santa and his ever so loyal reindeers. anyways i was playing there one day and ran into an odd fellow with a corn cobb pipe and a button nose who gave me an idea on how to commandeer the playground all for myself…
Swing with me,
Graze your knees,
In a ragged dance
Of roundabout spun ecstasy
That is life
A playground, you see.
The kids on the playground had no idea what we did the night before. If they did, their mothers would surely come out running, snatching their children by their little hands, scrubbing them raw and praying rosaries over their heads. That makes me so happy.
The playground was completely empty at 2 pm on a Wednesday. I didn’t know where my teachers were, or my friends, and for some reason I didn’t mind. I was at peace, moreso then than ever before. Or since.
A place where children play and interact with other humans of their own age group. I myself often used to play at one of these playgrounds it was very enjoyable. The swings were my favorite although they made me nauseous.
It was when I first met you that we were in elementary school. We were on the playground. Two boys were chasing me and I was getting tired. You chased after them, keeping them away from me. You saved me that day and you have continued to save me ever since the first day we met.
The playground is a beautiful place to be. The playground attracts people of all ages, especially little children with their mothers. the playground is adjacent to a diner. The diner is owned by a wealthy man called Lincoln.
i like the playground it makes me happy and reminds me of my childhood how i miss it the sand the swings the handlebars the jungle gym ugh the good old days how i want to go back i miss the simple days were nothing was impossible
When we played, it was on the ground. Sticks, stones, faery bowers and mossy pillows, the mushroomy forest floor, our playground.
The blood ran down the wooden panels of the merry-go round and was quickly absorbed by the dry sand below. Grant West was not my favorite person in the world. He teased me and got me in trouble once. But he was dead now and there was a sick feeling growing in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to push him so hard. Why was this happening, I wondered.
Why couldn’t the kid just stand up and apologize?
I ran through the playground overjoyed that my favorite swing was free at last. I hadn’t been back here since my best friend moved away a few months ago. We used to be able to share the swing, and we could stay on there for hours, laughing and joking at everything life had to throw at us.
when i was young, playgrounds were much more dangerous than they are now. it would not be uncommon to see bloodstains beneath the mangled half-green, half-rust bars.
Little Jeremy danced around the playground. He always enjoyed the music in his head more than any I played for him. I would catch him, sitting and the piano, playing as soft as he could. I know he loved me, but I always knew someday he would grow past what his older brother could teach him.
there was this huge, huge slide; and not just huge because you were so little and it was so big- this thing was grand. so grand that years later, damn litigious society, it was taken out. i was always to scared to go down it, and i don’t know that i ever did. i preferred hanging out underneath the branches of the ginormous pine tree.
the playground was always a fun and exciring place as a kid. i made loads of friends durings recess and walked my dog in countlees playgrounds. the swings were always my favorite becasue if you jumped out at just the right time, you felt like you were flying. it is amazing!!
We sat on the spinning saucer of a merry-go-round, she and I, snapping photos of one another among grubby children. My hair cropped short to my head like a boy’s, fat and sad, taking the moment to believe I was something else, awkwardly posing like I believed I was a pretty girl.
today i revistied my elementary school playground. they had redone it from when i went there. i can still see where everything used to be tho. the swings the slides. and with each new piece comes a flood of memories from that place.
Sam ran back and forth, trying to catch James as his legs swung out into space. Death. Death is coming. The thought filled him with such terror that when James dropped out of the air, Sam was too busy being scared of James’ injury to catch him. James hit the pavement, broke his legs. The infection came some weeks later.
The playground is a place to push and shove the opposite sex.
Show affection when we don’t know how to kiss.
Live in the dirt that scrapes our hands.
So serious to hurt the ones we love but don’t understand.
Forging our lives through the years of denial.
Us kids don’t think we know better when we fight like beasts.
The prime sexual urges on the brink of manifestation.
Will haunt us for years while I sit in the corner quiet.
Never to question Freud in his theories
While I crumble before the feet of Woman.
In dreams I creep through windows
Following a blank face down the stairs
Only to find my mother down there.
She ran across the playground with her blond hair waving out behind her. Her joy in being alive evident in her every movement. A glance at the sky, an exuberant laugh, and the spring in her step.
You hear the way the swingset sings, all sad and tired, the aching voice of children left behind.
You hear the way the wind blows, forlorn and lost, lonely like the little girl who sat on the sidelines while the others played soccer across the blacktop.
You hear the way the children’s laughter isn’t there, emptied, drawn out and blanked on, until there is no recollection, and still the swingset sings, all sad and tired, like children left behind or forgotten.