Is our true love was going anywhere?
After traditional local fun fair
Nothing does compare, with the teasing scare
Where we share, our mature teen age affair
Passing written notes, from pens we borrow
Wonder about future, unknown horror
Sunny blue skies? After we say goodbye?
Studying college courses are new try
Meeting new friends, saying, he’s a nice guy
Semester we wander getting credit
Attend class confessing "should have read it"
Or the other excuse, “I don’t get it”
Compass directs one to the campus bar
Healing wounds from the bloody mark grade scar
And making out with a long neck lone star
In a perpetual state of curiosity,
I am the lover—the amator,
consumed by the pursuit,
never arriving as the station's master.
Reshaped by the objects of affection—
endlessly revealing itself
with fresh eyes.
To be possessed by a god.
I am the midwife of ideas,
so come sit with me
and be courted every day.
The slight Amish girl wore a plain bonnet
Her dress was plain yellow, nothing on it
Entirely covering body and limbs
No serendipity for her, no whims
Though in love with her debonair teacher
She was so demure, how would he reach her?
His picture under her pillow, she slept
Never dreaming – in her garden he crept!
She woke to the morn, felt somehow reborn
All doubts about her love, completely shorn
Skipping to school, her heart ne’er missed a beat
She came to class and flew into her seat
Seeing her love, she blew him two kisses
~ Two years on, they were Mister and Missus
***********
Well, OK. There are no steady feet in this poem, and neither is their reliable meter
Calling this a 'sonnet' makes me a bit of a cheater ~ gw
Envy for this emerald style
Throwing paint with heart of child
Even with imperfect stroke
Giving a beauty of hazel hope
Amethyst heart for Japanese art
Made in class as enchanting start
I’m an etegami student painting star
Jon asked the prof a simple question
His answer, shot back, “It’s complex”
Jon followed up with “Look, I pay $99.9k a year to go here”
Prof's answer, easy over, “That’s why we serve 100-proof beer”
I did not study
I failed, so I studied more.
I failed a wrong test
Summer they told me to say.
Freedom from seeking knowledge they say.
I say, where can I stay?
How much did you say?
O look! I was supposed to smile.
The freedom was for a while.
Nay this whole living is a style
I feel like I was just here.
Yesterday said, don't have fear.
Tomorrow said, I'm supposed to steer.
No, I am still here.
I am grateful for a lesson I learned while teaching…
which I wish was more well known:
How every child whom we meet
we should treat just like our own.
How every child should be accepted
welcomed with kind and open arms when greeted…
and treated the same way we would hope
our own children will be treated.
I am grateful for a lesson I learned while teaching…
which I wish was more well known:
How every child whom we meet
we should treat just like our own.
How every child should be accepted
welcomed with kind and open arms when greeted…
and treated the same way we would hope
our own children will be treated.
From Italian kitchens and Welsh poetic heights,
A champion’s mind takes flight tonight.
With ninety seconds on the clock,
He climbed the peak, Monadnock.
He spoke of stars, of Denebola's gleam,
An enthymeme left like a hidden dream.
From Brazilian Iguape trees that grow,
To Louisiana's historical Natchitoches flow.
He tasted sweet torrone on the tongue,
While Cajun fais-dodo songs were sung.
He braved an émeute, a riot loud,
To stand as a flaith before the crowd.
Beneath the sea, the
nannofossil sleeps,
While on the waves, the
tongkang leaps.
And where New Zealand’s borders meet the sea,
The red pohutukawa tree.
With letters woven, sharp and fast,
Thirty-two words from first to last,
Cywyddau rhythm in his stride—
He claimed the trophy with a scholar's pride.
There it is,
the last day of school,
right around the corner
but knowing I'll never return,
run through these halls again,
makes my backpack feel heavy
but I still have two more years of school
My backpack is getting filled again,
but not for this school anymore
for another,
farther away,
totally new,
where different halls
and different lessons
wait for me
yet in the corner of my attic with my old backpack
and my neatly stacked books
the memories still fill the space
the ones I packed away
to carry with me
Its the end of the year
Yet we're still going
Still taking tests
Still waking before the sun
Still doing homework
We're still going
With only four days
We're still going
The sun stays out longer than usual
My shoes dusty from the road
My ice cream melting quickly in my hand
Music plays softly through my earbuds
The air slightly smells warm after the downpour
Kids laughing all up and down the street
The pool water shines all shades of blue
My friends out and about after sunset
We talk about random, interesting things
Sometimes summer feels endless
Every year it feels too short
I miss my friends more at night
Fireflies glow in the darkness
The sky, pink before dark
I watch the clouds coast by slowly
The ice in my drink melts before I finish
Late nights have my mind racing
Old memories come easier than other times
I smile more during June days
Everything feels lighter for some reason
Even sad thoughts feel softer
The night air feels calm and peaceful
Summer always leaves too soon
where does this put me,
when everything that clears the blur,
is actively trying to kill me.
I'm running in all directions,
since it was always all or nothing.
your frostbitten lies,
my golden glow,
the half-truths I tell myself,
to fall asleep at night.
I'm burning under fluorescent lights,
and it all feels ok, in that artificial heat,
until I realize,
it will only get brighter and stifling,
until I can no longer breathe.
Tell me how to shine,
without burning.
Tell me how to be a diamond in their eyes,
without breaking under their gaze.
Tell me how to fly,
without falling.
Tell me how to dream,
without waking up.
They ask the tool and take the answer fast,
With no uncertain doubts they ever cast.
The words look good, the lines are smooth and neat,
But funny faults lie low in the sheet.
They skip the work that builds a curious mind,
And leave their deeper thoughts way behind.
Their borrowed lines will fade and fall away,
Like morning dews that vanish in the day.
So, learn to think, to doubt, to test and see,
Or lose your voice and your personality.
7/5/2026
Student Categories
Definition | What is Student in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
undergraduate, scholar, pupil, junior, graduate, observer, learner, novice, skill, docent, disciple, apprentice, sophomore, undergrad, registrant, schoolchild, grad, first year student,