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Education Life Poems | Life Poems About Education

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

Stoned

In seeming innocence you lie upon the warm ochre
about the edges of the dust-strewn street,
a remnants of larger issues, crushed to just the right size by a killing blow.
Before the mob merged, before cat calls raised the hairs on the back of her neck,
she had been of a favorite pet, a cherished wife.  
A mother now lays dead, brought down by the bloodlust of the men around her.
Today, the stones are coated rust-red with the blood as the of women of Iraq 
are laid low by their husbands, sons, and fathers. 


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 | Dramatic monologue |

POVERTY DEFINES TRUE WEALTH

written 25th Oct 2013


I don't know if human's will ever see
 every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
 there has to be a place for the poorest

The entire world is built up from the same level, dirt
 each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
 I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story

The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
 he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
 seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness

Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
 the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
 t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth 

He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
 for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...




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 | Couplet |

Once Was A King

There once was Castle just over the hill
That belonged to a King with an iron will

Nestled safely behind his Castle wall
With an army to insure they wouldn’t fall

It was clear for the entire world to see
Destiny would record him in history

The richest King in all of the land
A beautiful Queen at his right hand

He ruled the land from shore to shore
Tell me, “Could any man ask for more”?

Turns out this King had just one vice
He was so great he forgot to be nice

Against any force he was bound to win
So the devil attacked him from with-in

Such a great King skilled with the sword
Much too great a King to turn to the Lord

Watched his entire Kingdom crumble away
Because he was to great to kneel and pray


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 | Couplet |

The Leader Bunny

All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.

Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.

Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…



Details | Cinquain |

Traces

Traces
In the wet sand
Footprints of gulls, and man
Disappear in the tidal dance
Of waves.

Traces
In the red dust
Feet of man, and horses
Up in canyons, leave no trace of
The brave.

Traces
In the garden
Of such delightful scents
In spring and summer by winter
Erased.

Traces
Of human life
Throughout world's history
However, are reported upon its
Pages.
Traces
Of wins and woes
Like hand prints upon walls
Can't be erased, for their foothold
Remains.


Details | Free verse |

I'm Your King

A burst of white light gamma rays, overbearing a flash of brilliance burns through to my soul everything is like hell the world starts to melt in the blink of an eye just the cold blackness of night I don't care if I am not again what I once was, for at this moment I am greater now than ever before I took the path between teetering, tight roping walking right up to my right divined in my unholy state I thought I told you I am your king still you sit there, hesitating I know you hate me what does that mean? I hate just about everything still I'm chosen I did not wish before now bow down to me refuse me no more for I shall always be your demon until you accept me as your King. I don't even know you though you say we used to be best of friends, you and me the day you ditched me I remember now exactly how it played out back when we were just tiny things even back then I still was King you thought me stupid just a ruse I would laugh inside, you see? not one of you single, mean people ever even knew me in a world, mostly seen to me that is why only I can be your true King and bring forth a new source of light everlasting. As two worlds collide slowly aligned one wrapped in shadows one bathed in white evils swirling in the clouds above I'll always be the king you love to hate or despise as in your blood I thought I told you, I am the one I am the way, the way out shall be shown breathe in my spirit as it carries you away breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough higher than you've ever dreamed of for I am king now, and your in my hell your in my imagination, I'll just never tell you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now if you try and see you were always found the most shared in the light cast upon me the last bright star in heaven. Denounce my name, if you may One year later, still not afraid A black sheep, a darkened spade That's just life, I'm not right I'm in the wrong, follow along Like a piper, I'll pitch a song Mesmerized, the weak wills sing I thought he told you, he's still our king.


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