Unbalanced heights,
playground lessons taught
when only one can rise her fist,
insist — that carried by the weight
of those beneath,
she’s fought
and wrought
from hands of others
left them naught
the winner took it all, cause
it’s better bEATing
than being bEATen.
I might not have the best of memories playing with other children… Linked to Magpie tales
Björn Rudbergs writings 
it’s hard being a child. you’ e expressed it well.
The last lines are true… But sometimes it is possible to just live and let live, too. Skillsets older kids develop… I hope.
Clever, what you did with “eat.”
Sad how as kids so many of us go through those things…preparing us, no doubt, for the workplace and relationships! Enjoyed listening to ABBA, too
I do have experience (& remember very well) and you got it spot on! Said with a smile.
It’s not all dog eats dog on the playground …
The paring of poem and picture is exquisite! Love the image of the one girl, hanging on and dangling above the ground. I think the poem is about her in particular 🙂
Whether little or big, people can be selfish and mean! i always liked ABBA’s music 🙂
it’s better bEATing
than being bEATen.
The rule of the game is to take part. But all the more sweeter to instill the idea also to win and win convincingly
Hank
loved your take on the prompt
Joy
That last three lines of the first stanza spell such terrible truths. And that last stanza is a study in visual poetry and wordplay. Wonderful.
This has such a punch. And in the end, they all fall down.
Bjorn, for starters you chose my favorite ABBA song of all! It brings me to tears … I love the authentic place you wrote from.
Love the touches of rhyme throughout, and I agree that a playground is a microcosm of human aggression. Children are little beasts.
It really was survival of the fittest…
The tests that children face now are triple what we did in days gone by. You write about that very well!
Playgrounds and perilous places for children. I cant figure out why.
Ha. I was never so into beating but you describe the playground well! Thanks, Bjorn. K.
Those playgrounds Whew! The gauntlet (it seems, we all had to run, one way or another) along life’s road.
Cautionary tale!
Liking this, Bjorn. Per the illustration, raising one hand would still allow a person to swing with the help of another. I’ve never seen a swing like this. Fun.
When I first glanced I thought it was an old schooner at war.
The poem would stand alone nicely without a picture. A life’s lesson then.
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BTW, I pulled my previous “Old dogs” poem and wrote a new one last night. The first one didn’t sit right.
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After she was Queen of the playground :).