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Education Free Verse Poems | Free Verse Poems About Education

These Education Free Verse poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Education. These are the best examples of Education Free Verse poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Didn't Don't

.

Didn't Don't
Somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
   didn't don't       
            didn't don't
Don't touch it. Don't say it. Don't do it. Don't doubt it. Don't think.

Somebody handcuffs my steps. Somebody determines my boundaries.
Before I fully understand free will, there is a slap on my head
      and phosphenes like stars that command my orbit.
Before I can recognize differences, there is a slap on my hand
      right hand, not left hand...never ambidextrous; 
      and time out is isolation without a trial...and I learn
                               the fear of wrongdoing
                               remote-controlling my existence,
conditional on demand, predesigned
      and easily
      and obviously
      frightened
An aborted freedom escaping into the sewer
trying not to get it on the seat

I'm the observer of other lives, not mine               
tied up and chained, in captivity 
attempting to prove an alibi 
                    for being alive.
No one cares
not even myself

Somebody pulls on the rope to swing the bells
   didn't don't       
           didn't don't
It's dirty. It's ugly. It's bad. It's poo. It's sin.

commitments, commandments... Commandments, Commitments
                               Salvation... Damnation
Sometimes deception makes them ring in a low tone. Sometimes
I do what they say, and not what they do, and not what I want, and not what I think.

                 Through   fragments   of   this   duplicity,
                                               and   this   duplicity, 
I would be able to rebuild myself,
                                and Myself, into another hypocritical being;
and the intentional perversion of the self proclaimed truth,
                                or the liar paradox,
                                will be sovereign
leading to the use of tricks and cotton swabs.

When the remorseless hours run counterclockwise,
I would be happy through imaginary experiences,
consistently depurated,
consistently believed to be true.
             
Would I dare to examine the society in which I've been educated and raised?
Would I dare rip my skin...my flesh off of my bones?
How could I blame them? How could I possibly judge them?
Order and obedience in confabulation...in conspiracy...in complicity

If somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
If I'm the only one guarding my own cell
If I'm the jailer, and the convict, and the crime.


.



Details | Free verse |

AN EDUCATED MAN

He reads voraciously

to his young children,
beholden and somewhat bewildered 
by sweet progeny 
their relentless leaching of his words 
hungry baby birds, small peep teachings

He reads sporadically
 
to his father, articles from the paper, 
headlines and bylines,
for his dad has cataracts, now, and velum hands
shake newsprint, making a rattling sound 
too like the quiver of their cloistered skeletons,
all those remains, all those remains

There is wisdom in comics, he has found, 
bucolic rings so like old church bells 
tutoring fields through fog

He still tries to read

his wife,
shared history in eyes,
the geography of long sighs, that topography of belly,  
yes, yes, a theology that spills from parted lips
bless each rumpled sheet, that chemistry 
which repeats poetry, spoken in a dialect, so rare 


He remembers reading an encyclopedia 

in the face of a beggar, once, 
the prophetical sparking from high brows 
which seemed to be only crossed currents,
a lifetime recorded, an unbound edition, A through Z
but when he turned carefully to C,
he'd found a full entry on compassion
and charity

Soon, he'll no longer read music notes

through a soft blur, playing guitar for one
a thousand times more educated then he,
this twelve year old girl, her heart 
an open lecture hall,
that smile of pure academia, 
may she ever be an opus angelorum,
that reaches, will ever reach, 
far past mere hospice walls.







Details | Free verse |

Mental Hospital Bills

dadgum doctors, heads up their butts poking, prodding, pricking skin neurologist a psychopath gets pleasure as electric volts pass through my body family doctor showed little concern made me paranoid about irregular heartbeat EKG failed to determine cause left me more in doubt than at ease dentist like a character from Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man” the more pain inflicted the more he rejoiced deep root cleaning caused severe infection bloodwork done by Vampira clones labs filled with tubes and needles results not shared with me yet I footed the bill optometrist an Oriental who moved so fast didn’t care if the prescribed glasses worked boo on you, dang aristocrats waving your credentials nurses so slow to respond MRI promised on CD, but couldn’t be obtained just like the blood tests, needed a “report” doctors driving me insane each should share my mental hospital bills
*Based on ongoing health tests and written for PD’s contest. Assignment Free Verse, 25 lines, category slam, sad and educational, title: Mental Hospital Bills


Details | Free verse |

Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com


Details | Free verse |

Grand Canyon

Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.


Details | Free verse |

You Can't Hurt Me

Resounding echoes awaken the child
demons in the attic beckon unto him
stark fear grips his Vick's laden chest
shivers vibrate rusty springs of down

footsteps creak closer upon loose floorboards
while steamed filled pipes play taps
a somber teddybear snarls
causing the world to be still

foolish nuns, God doesn't want to "get me"

the sting of a ruler splinters a left hand
blood spurts upon faces of laughter
evil little boy too wicked for a mother
affliction runs in the family

Florence became flop because she always fell
polio never whipped her ass
just abused her now and then
she healed with a smile

Even humility has its price

Jimmy Dean wore sunglasses
maybe his eyes were bloodshot
or maybe he was a child of an alcoholic
and they became part of his attire

degenerate eye disease, masturbation
spattering or battering
does it really matter when you can't see
or understand the difference between ADD and ADHD

Psych 101: Crack can be Prozac

Iron gates surround a new residence
protecting the innocent who peer from outside
rehabilitation means refining bad habits
like those on the outside who have mastered them

twelve years of bars and games people play
provide an education unto itself
seclusion can be the deciding factor
between murder or suicide

self righteous judges choose life

recidivism is a revolving door
of vicious cycles with no engines
only propellers called co-dependants
or co-defendants, take your pick

life repeats itself over and over
only the circumstances change
yet the merry-go-round stops
when the flowers are arranged

Why are most tombstones gray

scared, afraid to die
are you saved?
from what, ourselves
you can't hurt me

Bob Shank-Nov. 30th, 2006


Details | Free verse |

Worst Love Poem Ever Written

I suck at dying poems
Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,
Hair falling out in the shower poems
 
And I told a half truth
When I told you I could write you one
In less than six months (It's been eight)
I apologize for being so late

 
I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful
Like those ribbons
I see all over the internet
Filled with cheesy generic rhymes
That read like a Hallmark audition

  But already my metaphors are melting
And my similes are getting soft
 I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off

 When I went to Google
And the typed in the word 'happy'
Three billion links came up

Not a single inference to
Breast cancer, hair loss
No redirects to mastectomies
Yahoo wasn't any kinder

 
The only thing research could teach me
Is that a good day on chemo
Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black
And has no blood in it

Or when your urine
Smells better on Wednesday
Than it did on Tuesday

Sleeping less than 12 hours
When 24 would be better

  
America has more poets
Than it does alcoholics
   And Pot smokers combined
And you chose me to be
Your Breast Cancer
Poet Laureate

Trusting me to write a poem
About the biggest battle in your life

So I refuse to finish this poem
Without something bright and hopeful
 
And don't think
I didn't notice your Facebook activity
Had decreased by 88%
In the last three months

 
And you aren't really
Coming to any more of my poetry shows
Ever again. Are you??
But we still have March, April
Don't we?

 
But even if you had one breast
Or no breast

Or if you had less hair than I do
I promise to look only in your eyes
And never ever even notice
Or even think about it

And never for a moment
Would I feel sorry for you

Yes I suck at lying too...

 
But I don't suck at loving you
Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning
 With no Cancer at all
And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside
Your bedroom window...

And I would be right there with you
Holding your hand while we look down on Paris
And you can impress me with your French again

 
And if I ever make it
To the Pulitzer Poetry board
I might lose a thousand points
Just for this poem alone

And my hopes for the prize will be smitten
And some old person 
With white hair will say
That was the worst love poem ever written


Details | Free verse |

IQ Test

I could care less about the four 
corners of insults, 
That intelligence invites; 
It is always the first straw of 
grass that’s grows, 
which reveals the popular outcast; 
As a youth, I found my image cut down 
into this manufactured silhouette.

Drenched in social rain, my peers 
had never found me more alienated, 
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse 
topics; 
They did everything in their power to provide 
a verbal umbrella, 
However, the texture remains weak and 
defeated.

This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought, 
For within this cranial mansion resides 
additional rooms, 
For the more abstract and surreal 
elements of life; 
It is that secluded gland which reveals 
the renaissance of men, who wear 
infinite Fedoras.

Now wearing the shoes of a young 
man, 
A taste of charisma resides in my 
veins; 
However this slight addiction to external 
haze, 
Comes in second to my first drug of 
choice: Wisdom. 

Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime; 
So don’t be surprised when resistance 
knocks at your door, 
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within 
your temple; 
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood 
fruit, 
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.


Details | Free verse |

Interalphabetnet sex stew



Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed 
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
 mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling 
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in 
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk? 
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang 
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your 
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new 
generation which skewer post present parental postulates 
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate 
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions. 
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it, 
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit 
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize, 
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil, 
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder, 
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx, 
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we 
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket 
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued 
prominantly with no recall references to problematic 
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.



Details | Free verse |

Passed on knowledge

OK,
this is true;
you and I
filtering yester-year,
who was I,
and now this crutch
strengthens I

Forward now
please
just past mine age,
for I have passed on knowledge;
"I will discover grace"

Wrinkled 
soft
sensitive skin,
her soft kiss
of yester-year
and Heaven
letting me in





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