play in it and jump run toys children friends elementary school climb colorful games swing monkey bars laugh have fun smile kids love
ariyanna
This is a very fun place for kids. There are slides, poles, and lots of fun activities.
Samir
We first met on the playground. We were at the park in our town and I had no idea who he was. I had no idea what he would mean to me. I had no idea what would happen in our future. He was just the new kid and I was just a little bit interested. How else is love supposed to start?
whitney
The sticky slide was layered with hundreds and hundreds of invisible children’s hands. Layers of french fry grease and ketchup and gum and maybe even someone died here once. Mostly it was pirates–child pirates blocking the tunnels to stop other pirate children from coming through and taking their lace. Biker gangs. Toddler fights.
Under the starry sky and across the snowy hills of New York, the playground was silent and sat frozen in time. The little girl walked by and realized that she would never be small again. She trudged to the swings and gently brushed off the snow, and sat.
the world is laid out before us – a playground. every sense engaged we just need to tune in one by one. each sense for the taking for the using for the thrill of existence. how’s that for some gobbledy gook?
His hands flew seamlessly over the keys, then stopped to fall on a low note. The chords echoed, pleased by that caress. There was no sheet in front of him, he played with no restraint. Each movement was engraved in his soul, like the memory of an old friend. His fingers were masters on that playground, yet aware of every scratch and cramp, callused by years of familiarizing with that enormous black monster. He was having fun.
Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it! This is my favorite song. Well, it was my favorite song when I was fifteen. Now that I’m nearing 44, it’s probably not as appropriate. Actually, maybe the fact that it is appropriate is the problem. I should probably stop wearing this much glitter makeup, I don’t think it’s doing anything for me.
Beka
Children don’t play the same games in the playground as I did when I was younger. Whatever happened to hopscotch and jacks
sticky feathered swings brooms brows witchy circles mamas papas girls and boys and other gendered babes and grown ups play in sandy woods and mexico with home and trees and also ice cream falling down to little scars that babies get from crawling, and by omission, not getting more.
The playground had been there far longer than anyone alive could remember. Buildings burned, streets were laid, people moved, died and were replaced by new people. But those rusted monkey bars and slides remained.
Jess
I had a very nice playground, close to the building I used to stay before. Alisa the place has been demolished and people have built a building there. I don’t think it is too uncommon now a days and it is becoming a common problem and there is no space left for children to play.
Ninad
I play with my kids on the playground during sunset
Rob
I remember the playground at my elementary school. The best part were these tire pyramids, you could climb inside them and pretend you were anywhere. Sometimes I would sit inside and pretend nothing was wrong.
teach me that i’m anything but myself. the swings are shaking and so am i, dust in the wind. i walk home through the see saw and the grimy childhood fixtures every evening and children from my elementary school are playing, shoes off, hair down, like nothing in my world. i think of the past sometimes. but not too much. i’ve outgrown it anyway.
The playground was dark and quiet. Jen and Peter hid in the shadows, ducking down behind the rose bushes that bordered one side of the park.
“Anytime now,” Peter whispered.
The night was still. Not a breeze rustled through the trees around them.
Jen gasped softly as shadows emerged from out of the darkness. Shadows that took the form of children outlined in soft white mist moved silently across the sands to climb into the swings and onto the slide. Children from the past played quietly on the equipment, running and jumping together, enjoying each others company.
Jen’s wide eyes looked at Peter in disbelief.
“See?” he whispered, “The playground is haunted.”
Playing is good for your physical and mental fitness. So playgrounds are for this purpose. Kids play there and its a good place for them.
Chaudhary Talha
We climb up the castles,
Cross the rope bridges and the monkey bars
(that’s lava below, don’t fall)
Line up in front of the Cave,
that slide into eternity,
the sun glows against its yellow, plastic walls.
the children are running free. their laughter is all that you can hear. you can see the smiles on their faces from a mile away. where are they? they’re at the playground.
tomiko
Recess was the only spare moment in the duration of my day. I played on the playground- well, I didn’t, but you did. That’s how I made it through the week, those few hours outside watching you. Your smile was infectious. It healed me. Thank you.
Souka
The desks and chairs face front and center. This is my playground? I hand out the papers, the pencils, the grades, and the papers.
It’s a jail.
And what is my impossible task? To instill passion.
-A teacher’s lament.
Iceman
His house was a playground for ruined dreams: ground covered in fragments of the past, a strange bitter smell permeating the air.
there’s a child on the playground. they’ve fallen and scraped their knee. strange though, they’re not crying. just staring. like it’s the most fascinating thing to ever happen to them. they touch the skin – not bleeding, just scraped – and finally call their daddy over. “Daddy,” they ask, “Why doesn’t it hurt?” “Because you didn’t let it,” he says.
Liv
The playground stank of rotting things and waste. The forgotten children had died a frostbitten death, caught in the intricately woven traps. He approached the traps to harvest his fruitful catch, smiling triumphantly. Another good week. Cold, nevertheless good. The sound of silence was broken as the younglings fell to the snow with a crunch, released from death’s metal rope. It was getting late, and he had to hurry, he could hear Them. His frantic heartbeat drummed with Their footsteps.
applebees
The world is her playground, but it’s an empty one. She’s like a hollowed out shell, empty and void of any warmth. She longs to feel a warmth that only another could give her.
From the pot holes, to the store fronts,
street performers and click of heels
from the splayed slush and jackhammers
to the ever-whirring wheels
The million people, scatter round
Towers leaning in, windows shining, looking down
one collective shuffle was the largest sound
of ever-uprisings on a cityscape playground
Laura H
Down at the playground the players play the ground all around is filled with hay the sound of play on the hard playground please give us some hay to muffle the sound it’s all around the playground the sound is found and rebound on the ground.
playground: the place where memories are made, childhood is created. jumping off the high swings was exciting. but they got rustier and rustier as the children become less and less innocent
sara alattar
thin, rough fabric
knocks my knees together
as metallic links
bite my palms.
the intensity increases
the higher I go.
the wooden crossing
from which we fought giants
and conquered trolls
groans, unsteady
under my weight.
and i am afraid.
and the empires!
oh those kingdoms
which were so easy to
benevolently mould
now wedge splinters
into my hands.
The playground used to be simple. There was a sandbox with wood marking the edges, a swing or two, and if we wer lucky bars to climb and maybe a metal slide, that burned your legs in the summer, now however, thousands or tens of thousands are spent building safe plastic playground equipment. There is no opportunity for creativity for kids as there is “one” way to play. Time is prescribed for playground time. You must have 30 minutes. You must play with your friend there. Playing is defined. Friend is defined, and must be prearranged. What happen to spontaneity? What ever will come of this next generation.
Liz
Sarah smiled brightly as she ran through the playground and away from Jose. They were playing tag, and like always, she was far ahead of him and he was always it. Today was no different.
Life they say is a playground.
But only for some.
For others its a living hell,
with pleasures none.
That said, a playground is what you make of it
in your mind.
Have fun or be afraid as you wish.
Stay aside or join the play
nilooka
The playground sat, abandoned, desperate for love. It was lonely, cold. It yearned to be loved like it was before, its tenuous heartbeat throbbing through the winter day. WHat.
applebees
The playground was full of little rugrats running around playing various games. The kids looked as if they were having the time of their lives. The man smiled as he walked slowly down the path. He stopped suddenly when he noticed something unusual, some the the kids had no eyes or mouths for that matter. He took a closer look and his eyes widened in horror. The chidren had no faces. Their running began to seem more menacing. his breath quickened and his eyes shot from side to side in panic. Slowly the children all stopped and turned to him. He closed his eyes, awaiting the nightmare that was sure to come. He felt himself being pulled from his spot. His eyes lifted to see a heavenly woman urging him to follow her, to run as fast as he could. Without a second thought, he ran with lightning speed. He never glanced back, never questioned where he was going. Something inside of him knew the woman, knew that he could trust her with his life. They ran dodging cars and people until they were nearing the forest preserves. His sprint slowed down into a slow walk. There was silence between them, only penetrated by their heavy breathing. The woman finally spoke in a calm, assuring voice, “Tell me what you saw back there.” The man brushed a hand through his hair, maintaining a puzzled expression on his face. “You were there, didn’t you see their faces?” The woman replied, ” No one saw what you saw. They looked like norml children to everyone but you. I saw the look of terror on your face and I noticed that all the children were turned to face you. I then realized that you were one of them.” “One of whom?” He asked, still trying to grasp the idea that no one else had seen the faceless children.”You’re one of the cursed, the people that are hidden in society with special visions and abilities. Something is going to happen tonight and you might be the only one who can help us stop it.” The man’s head spun, he wasn’t different from anyone else. He was an ordinary child, with an ordinary life. His lipps were suddenly unusually dry. The world spun before his eyes and he began to feel like a weight was pushing down on him. The last thing he saw was the line of cllouds above him. His eyes fluttered shut as he slowly fell back…
He watched as the children ran around the playground. He sighed in quiet contentment until he noticed something strange, the children had no faces.his breath quickened and his had shot from side to side in panic. Slowly the children all stopped and turned to him. He closed his eyes, awaiting the nightmare that was sure to come. He felt himself being pulled from his spot. His eyes lifted to see a heavenly woman urging him to follow her, to run as fast as he could. Without a second thought, he ran with lightning speed. He never glanced back, never questioned where he was going. Something inside of him knew the woman, knew that he could trust her with his life. They ran dodging cars and people until they were nearing the forest preserves. His sprint slowed down into a slow walk. There was silence between them, only penetrated by their heavy breathing. The woman finally spoke in a calm, assuring voice, “Tell me what you saw back there.” The man brushed a hand through his hair, maintaining a puzzled expression on his face. “You were there, didn’t you see their faces?” The woman replied, ” No one saw what you saw. They looked like norml children to everyone but you. I saw the look of terror on your face and I noticed that all the children were turned to face you. I then realized that you were one of them.” “One of whom?” He asked, still trying to grasp the idea that no one else had seen the faceless children.”You’re one of the cursed, the people that are hidden in society with special visions and abilities. Something is going to happen tonight and you might be the only one who can help us stop it.” The man’s head spun, he wasn’t different from anyone else. He was an ordinary child, with an ordinary life. His lipps were suddenly unusually dry. The world spun before his eyes and he began to feel like a weight was pushing down on him. The last thing he saw was the line of cllouds above him. His eyes fluttered shut as he slowly fell back…
play in it and jump run toys children friends elementary school climb colorful games swing monkey bars laugh have fun smile kids love
This is a very fun place for kids. There are slides, poles, and lots of fun activities.
We first met on the playground. We were at the park in our town and I had no idea who he was. I had no idea what he would mean to me. I had no idea what would happen in our future. He was just the new kid and I was just a little bit interested. How else is love supposed to start?
The sticky slide was layered with hundreds and hundreds of invisible children’s hands. Layers of french fry grease and ketchup and gum and maybe even someone died here once. Mostly it was pirates–child pirates blocking the tunnels to stop other pirate children from coming through and taking their lace. Biker gangs. Toddler fights.
Under the starry sky and across the snowy hills of New York, the playground was silent and sat frozen in time. The little girl walked by and realized that she would never be small again. She trudged to the swings and gently brushed off the snow, and sat.
the world is laid out before us – a playground. every sense engaged we just need to tune in one by one. each sense for the taking for the using for the thrill of existence. how’s that for some gobbledy gook?
His hands flew seamlessly over the keys, then stopped to fall on a low note. The chords echoed, pleased by that caress. There was no sheet in front of him, he played with no restraint. Each movement was engraved in his soul, like the memory of an old friend. His fingers were masters on that playground, yet aware of every scratch and cramp, callused by years of familiarizing with that enormous black monster. He was having fun.
Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it! This is my favorite song. Well, it was my favorite song when I was fifteen. Now that I’m nearing 44, it’s probably not as appropriate. Actually, maybe the fact that it is appropriate is the problem. I should probably stop wearing this much glitter makeup, I don’t think it’s doing anything for me.
Children don’t play the same games in the playground as I did when I was younger. Whatever happened to hopscotch and jacks
sticky feathered swings brooms brows witchy circles mamas papas girls and boys and other gendered babes and grown ups play in sandy woods and mexico with home and trees and also ice cream falling down to little scars that babies get from crawling, and by omission, not getting more.
The playground had been there far longer than anyone alive could remember. Buildings burned, streets were laid, people moved, died and were replaced by new people. But those rusted monkey bars and slides remained.
I had a very nice playground, close to the building I used to stay before. Alisa the place has been demolished and people have built a building there. I don’t think it is too uncommon now a days and it is becoming a common problem and there is no space left for children to play.
I play with my kids on the playground during sunset
I remember the playground at my elementary school. The best part were these tire pyramids, you could climb inside them and pretend you were anywhere. Sometimes I would sit inside and pretend nothing was wrong.
playground is an excellent invention for kids, its an amazing creation
Playing on this playground is an exciting thing to do
universe.
teach me that i’m anything but myself. the swings are shaking and so am i, dust in the wind. i walk home through the see saw and the grimy childhood fixtures every evening and children from my elementary school are playing, shoes off, hair down, like nothing in my world. i think of the past sometimes. but not too much. i’ve outgrown it anyway.
The playground was dark and quiet. Jen and Peter hid in the shadows, ducking down behind the rose bushes that bordered one side of the park.
“Anytime now,” Peter whispered.
The night was still. Not a breeze rustled through the trees around them.
Jen gasped softly as shadows emerged from out of the darkness. Shadows that took the form of children outlined in soft white mist moved silently across the sands to climb into the swings and onto the slide. Children from the past played quietly on the equipment, running and jumping together, enjoying each others company.
Jen’s wide eyes looked at Peter in disbelief.
“See?” he whispered, “The playground is haunted.”
Playing is good for your physical and mental fitness. So playgrounds are for this purpose. Kids play there and its a good place for them.
We climb up the castles,
Cross the rope bridges and the monkey bars
(that’s lava below, don’t fall)
Line up in front of the Cave,
that slide into eternity,
the sun glows against its yellow, plastic walls.
the children are running free. their laughter is all that you can hear. you can see the smiles on their faces from a mile away. where are they? they’re at the playground.
Recess was the only spare moment in the duration of my day. I played on the playground- well, I didn’t, but you did. That’s how I made it through the week, those few hours outside watching you. Your smile was infectious. It healed me. Thank you.
The desks and chairs face front and center. This is my playground? I hand out the papers, the pencils, the grades, and the papers.
It’s a jail.
And what is my impossible task? To instill passion.
-A teacher’s lament.
His house was a playground for ruined dreams: ground covered in fragments of the past, a strange bitter smell permeating the air.
there’s a child on the playground. they’ve fallen and scraped their knee. strange though, they’re not crying. just staring. like it’s the most fascinating thing to ever happen to them. they touch the skin – not bleeding, just scraped – and finally call their daddy over. “Daddy,” they ask, “Why doesn’t it hurt?” “Because you didn’t let it,” he says.
The playground stank of rotting things and waste. The forgotten children had died a frostbitten death, caught in the intricately woven traps. He approached the traps to harvest his fruitful catch, smiling triumphantly. Another good week. Cold, nevertheless good. The sound of silence was broken as the younglings fell to the snow with a crunch, released from death’s metal rope. It was getting late, and he had to hurry, he could hear Them. His frantic heartbeat drummed with Their footsteps.
The world is her playground, but it’s an empty one. She’s like a hollowed out shell, empty and void of any warmth. She longs to feel a warmth that only another could give her.
From the pot holes, to the store fronts,
street performers and click of heels
from the splayed slush and jackhammers
to the ever-whirring wheels
The million people, scatter round
Towers leaning in, windows shining, looking down
one collective shuffle was the largest sound
of ever-uprisings on a cityscape playground
Down at the playground the players play the ground all around is filled with hay the sound of play on the hard playground please give us some hay to muffle the sound it’s all around the playground the sound is found and rebound on the ground.
playground: the place where memories are made, childhood is created. jumping off the high swings was exciting. but they got rustier and rustier as the children become less and less innocent
thin, rough fabric
knocks my knees together
as metallic links
bite my palms.
the intensity increases
the higher I go.
the wooden crossing
from which we fought giants
and conquered trolls
groans, unsteady
under my weight.
and i am afraid.
and the empires!
oh those kingdoms
which were so easy to
benevolently mould
now wedge splinters
into my hands.
strange, that i don’t remember this place
it hadn’t always hurt so much to dream.
The playground used to be simple. There was a sandbox with wood marking the edges, a swing or two, and if we wer lucky bars to climb and maybe a metal slide, that burned your legs in the summer, now however, thousands or tens of thousands are spent building safe plastic playground equipment. There is no opportunity for creativity for kids as there is “one” way to play. Time is prescribed for playground time. You must have 30 minutes. You must play with your friend there. Playing is defined. Friend is defined, and must be prearranged. What happen to spontaneity? What ever will come of this next generation.
Sarah smiled brightly as she ran through the playground and away from Jose. They were playing tag, and like always, she was far ahead of him and he was always it. Today was no different.
“C’mon, Jose! Catch up to me already!”
Life they say is a playground.
But only for some.
For others its a living hell,
with pleasures none.
That said, a playground is what you make of it
in your mind.
Have fun or be afraid as you wish.
Stay aside or join the play
The playground sat, abandoned, desperate for love. It was lonely, cold. It yearned to be loved like it was before, its tenuous heartbeat throbbing through the winter day. WHat.
The playground was full of little rugrats running around playing various games. The kids looked as if they were having the time of their lives. The man smiled as he walked slowly down the path. He stopped suddenly when he noticed something unusual, some the the kids had no eyes or mouths for that matter. He took a closer look and his eyes widened in horror. The chidren had no faces. Their running began to seem more menacing. his breath quickened and his eyes shot from side to side in panic. Slowly the children all stopped and turned to him. He closed his eyes, awaiting the nightmare that was sure to come. He felt himself being pulled from his spot. His eyes lifted to see a heavenly woman urging him to follow her, to run as fast as he could. Without a second thought, he ran with lightning speed. He never glanced back, never questioned where he was going. Something inside of him knew the woman, knew that he could trust her with his life. They ran dodging cars and people until they were nearing the forest preserves. His sprint slowed down into a slow walk. There was silence between them, only penetrated by their heavy breathing. The woman finally spoke in a calm, assuring voice, “Tell me what you saw back there.” The man brushed a hand through his hair, maintaining a puzzled expression on his face. “You were there, didn’t you see their faces?” The woman replied, ” No one saw what you saw. They looked like norml children to everyone but you. I saw the look of terror on your face and I noticed that all the children were turned to face you. I then realized that you were one of them.” “One of whom?” He asked, still trying to grasp the idea that no one else had seen the faceless children.”You’re one of the cursed, the people that are hidden in society with special visions and abilities. Something is going to happen tonight and you might be the only one who can help us stop it.” The man’s head spun, he wasn’t different from anyone else. He was an ordinary child, with an ordinary life. His lipps were suddenly unusually dry. The world spun before his eyes and he began to feel like a weight was pushing down on him. The last thing he saw was the line of cllouds above him. His eyes fluttered shut as he slowly fell back…
He watched as the children ran around the playground. He sighed in quiet contentment until he noticed something strange, the children had no faces.his breath quickened and his had shot from side to side in panic. Slowly the children all stopped and turned to him. He closed his eyes, awaiting the nightmare that was sure to come. He felt himself being pulled from his spot. His eyes lifted to see a heavenly woman urging him to follow her, to run as fast as he could. Without a second thought, he ran with lightning speed. He never glanced back, never questioned where he was going. Something inside of him knew the woman, knew that he could trust her with his life. They ran dodging cars and people until they were nearing the forest preserves. His sprint slowed down into a slow walk. There was silence between them, only penetrated by their heavy breathing. The woman finally spoke in a calm, assuring voice, “Tell me what you saw back there.” The man brushed a hand through his hair, maintaining a puzzled expression on his face. “You were there, didn’t you see their faces?” The woman replied, ” No one saw what you saw. They looked like norml children to everyone but you. I saw the look of terror on your face and I noticed that all the children were turned to face you. I then realized that you were one of them.” “One of whom?” He asked, still trying to grasp the idea that no one else had seen the faceless children.”You’re one of the cursed, the people that are hidden in society with special visions and abilities. Something is going to happen tonight and you might be the only one who can help us stop it.” The man’s head spun, he wasn’t different from anyone else. He was an ordinary child, with an ordinary life. His lipps were suddenly unusually dry. The world spun before his eyes and he began to feel like a weight was pushing down on him. The last thing he saw was the line of cllouds above him. His eyes fluttered shut as he slowly fell back…