Student Poems | Examples of Student Poetry

What’s wrong with me? I’ve been asking myself this all week. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I weigh questions coldly and logically. Then it hit to me.. it’s summer, silly and I'm in classes! A typical summer would find me tanned, sunburned, greased and unkempt, like a happy, sandy, beach hobo, my hair would...

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Inspired to share my knowledge, Dedicated to teach with courage, I gave my service with all my heart— In my students' lives, I played an important part. Three decades of guiding the young, These are my riches, the songs I’ve sung. I may be a candle burning low, But the light I gave will always glow. Proud to shape each growing mind, And when...

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Charles and my predawn jog was a sweat-athon and as the sun rose, a heat-dome brightness tattooed crisp shadows in every corner. Any lingering coolness was burned off - evaporated. It was 94°f, 3 hours later, when I walked to campus - why don’t we use parasols anymore? Drag on, radiant afternoon heat, please. That was...

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go to bed •think bemusingly of you loop (cond) { tomorrow } I rise in the morning, jog an 8K •thinking of you, wash up drink some flavored, black coffee watch the morning sun balloon eat toast while reading a set amount write my unique and uninteresting analysis work on half a dozen, odd assignments walk .8 miles to campus •thinking...

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We all have inner and outer lives. They’re messy, hopelessly intertwined, and more than mere mannequins to hang our word-art upon. I’m supported, in my unwritten life, by a structure of moods, both affine and counter-expressive. I’m, in turns, a tightly wound vagabond, an over-busy, fretful, unhappy liar (for what I will not share) and a happy, truthful mess (for what I...

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For Brian Strand's 1390 Poetry Contest 18 June 2025 _________ | | | 0 0 ...

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The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla, was upon us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black. From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all, like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived trailing a...

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I just came from the cafeteria. In a shocking twist, I have to actually meet people, I mean, can you imagine? And we have group projects, my least favorite thing, except perhaps, having a gym class. The cafeteria was so crowded—didn’t I see you there? Everyone there seemed to be wearing vintage Urban Outfitters. I felt left out, but no one...

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Have you ever tried choking? He asked nonchalantly. “No,” she said. *with a wrinkled nose of disapproval* “Want to try it?” *His approach couldn't hide his excitement* “Ok,” she said, absent mindedly running her index finger over his lips. “you can choke me,” she added slowly, “if I can stab you repeatedly with the 7...

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I’m new to ‘self directed study,’ it’s a construction I’ve never known. It’s kind of a faustian bargain that resembles another self-paced activity—treading water. The program’s like an immersive plunge in deep, choppy, informational seas. On the other hand, instead of dark, crowded auditorium classes, we’ve been studying, on sunny mornings, out by the pool, where...

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VI. We are all metric modulations of our former selves—changing time signatures mid-measure, learning to count in odd meters when life refuses to conform to 4/4 expectations finding beauty in 7/8 existence— the off-kilter cadence of becoming. The teenager tattoos pain across her skin in sixteenth-note flurries— razor crescendos marking flesh rimshots echoing in a locked room her body a snare absorbing what no one will hear. But the counselor...

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This poem is featured in Dr. Ivan Edwards' upcoming anthology, Resonance of the Soul: Flowers and Harmonics, published by IEME LLC. The book will be available in e-book, softcover, and hardcover formats upon release. Available on YouTube. Healing - A tribute to those who battle mental health The journey to wholeness: Reflections on mending wounds, overcoming...

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their teenage teacher—they twisted to torture them ten terrible times ...

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Nachman was a revered Sage The greatest of his age One day he came to his stand Armless! What had happened? The next day, no legs either ...

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Ok, there’s no jailbreak. Make room for my innocent alter ego, because there’s nothing to rebel against. There are zero classes in my nascent, year-long, Harvard master’s degree. They call it ‘self directed study’ and like rockets have stages, I’ll have ‘self paced modules.’ Am I suddenly at Oxford University? They’re quite famous for that (no formal classes). Or am I suddenly grown up and...

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