12Th Grade Poems | Examples

The Greatest Love Of James McLain

In the measure of the heavens, my heart turns to you.
Like the barley rising, you are my joy.
Your name is sweetness poured into the reed flute.

I, James McLain, know the fire of devotion—
Yet yours is greater,
A river that does not cease.

James, beloved, your breath is the wind of spring.
Your hands are vessels filled with light.
You walk, and the earth bends in gladness.

The moon hangs jeweled upon your brow.
The stars are your companions,
But none shine with the brightness of your soul.

Love such as yours endures beyond kings and kingdoms.
It binds what was scattered,
It heals what was broken.

Yours is the greatest love of all:
That your heart holds all the world within it.

pink jersey : traditional pirouette

[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2  quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, the turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour ! ie. everything can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance. ]


knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist 
south africa turmoiled

south africa turmoiled
security police
came with caspirs and cuffs
interrogation room
police knit jersey pink

         ~~~~~~~~~

AUTUMNAL DELIGHTS

AUTUMNAL DELIGHTS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
leaf-covered sidewalks
pumpkins ready to harvest
gourds covered in frost

LOST AND FOUND

LOST AND FOUND 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When all words have been written,
the pen feels heavy, leaden weight
in my weary hand.

Inspiration, a silent bird, takes flight,
a flash of iridescent wings
disappearing beyond the horizon.

Imagination, a child lost in a funhouse,
caught in a repetitious loop of familiar shapes,
trapped in distorted, mirrored halls.

Then, a door appears, not one of wood or metal, 
but one of starlight and whispers,
polished smooth by yearning and passion.

I open it, and the world explodes 
with colors unseen and sounds unheard,
with endless possibilities.

My senses ignite; every cell comes alive;
and inspiration, no longer silent,

wonder what she will use it for

Charise, the sewer, made a marvelous potato bag
What will she use it for the sink asked a dish rag.
I think she’ll put potatoes in it, but this is only a guess.
Maybe she’ll put spoons in it, suggested the watercress.

They held their breath, wondering who would win the bet.
That afternoon, the bag was filled up to her neck and was set.
Potatoes! yelled the dish rag; I was right, I have won!
An argument ensued, which ruined all the fun.

HOME

HOME
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Home, the echo reverberating deep within my chest.
Old sepia toned photographs hung in sunlit halls.
Memories dance like dust motes in the afternoon light.
Echoes of childhood hopes and fears etched in memory’s skin.

INDIAN SUMMER

INDIAN SUMMER  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Autumn comes as a chariot of nature's flame. From woodland browns are born reds and golds to warm heart and soul. The leaves, like flags waving in every sweet breeze, swirl in a wind-choreographed dance. Soon they rest upon the forest floor, embracing their destiny to feed each earthen wintry root.

seasonal trustees
summertime takes final bow
fall heeds her calling

starry autumn night
season brings artistic hand
harvest abundance

The Great Attractor

The stars lean closer when she moves,
Rare beauty folded in her quiet step.
A breath of perfume,

The air is changed—
It is sweeter,
As though spring has learned a new song.

Her legs are longer than the shadows,
Her fingers linger like willows in the wind,
Her small feet are swifter than birds
Across the fields of dawn.

She is athletic as rivers leaping,
Intelligent as the hidden moon,
Empathetic as rain that softens

The hardest clay of sorrow.
Her mind is sound,
A place where silence finds rest,

And yet her laughter is a bell
That summons joy from the distance.
When I draw near,

She tastes of apples,
Of orchards heavy with ripeness,
Of other grand things unnamed—

A sweetness meant for autumn,
But given freely in the summer’s heart.
The great attractor is not the stars,

But the pulse within her being,
Drawing me forever into her light.

the first time i felt it

the first time i felt it
was not a word but a hush
between leaves and the bluest sky—

a breath of you
inside the trembling air

(oh how small i was
with the world rushing by
and softer than reason)

your hand—
or was it light itself—
touched my chest
and opened a door
where no walls had ever been

the first time i felt it
i learned silence could sing
and forever could fit
in a single heartbeat.

TRAUMAS OF A SURVIVOR

The day rises again over my bitterness.
The birds have not yet begun to sing,
I am already angry,
still in a bad mood despite financial security.

At the slightest provocation, I know I’ll end up handcuffed in a prison van.
I’m afraid I’ll eventually break.
I am not afraid of dying, but of living.

I come from hell and walk upon a hostile land.
I am full of rage: the human species does not deserve this generous planet.

Once, I had gloved hands and a hooded face,
a Kalashnikov under the bed and the windows always sealed.
Today, I am far removed from the illicit,
with my scars, my skills, and my convictions.

I know how to get rich quickly,
and I am aware of the consequences of my actions.
I live with my nightmares and my regrets.

Glass Promises

You wore truth like a tailored suit,
 Smiling sharp in the evening light—
 But lies stitched seams I couldn’t see,
 Till silence screamed through every night.
Your eyes, twin lanterns in the dark,
 Once held the stars I swore were real.
 But stars, it seems, can flicker cold,
 And hearts can kiss, yet never feel.
You spoke of “forever” in soft-spun lace,
 While weaving webs behind my back—
 Each word a thread of false embrace,
 Each step a crack along the track.
You touched another, lips untrue,
 With hands that once held all of me.
 Did guilt not whisper in your spine,
 Or did betrayal set you free?
I drowned in questions, bitter rain,
 Searching for reasons in your flame.
 But fire only knows to burn—
 It doesn’t care who speaks its name.
Now silence sits where love once lay,
 A ghost beside my coffee cup.
 And all your truths, once sweet as spring,
 Taste bitter in this shattered cup.
So take your vows and glass-made dreams—
 They break so easy, don’t they, dear?
 But know the cost of what you’ve lost:
 A love that held you—without fear.

nitrogen hypoxia

they sit him down, strap the arms,
not the old chair, not the rope—
this is cleaner, scientific,
no blood, no sparks,
just the mask.

the lungs beg first,
pulling at nothing,
a vacuum of sky
swallowing itself.

the heart beats like a busted drum,
then quieter,
the eyes go wet, then far—
a man drowning on land
without water, without storm.

the state calls it mercy.
but death is still death,
and the body knows.

THIS IS ENOUGH

THIS IS ENOUGH
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Me and the dawn,
the waking sun,
the earth and all its glory,
the sun shining down on me.

Me and the twilight,
the rising moon,
the sky and all its glory,
the moon shining down on me.

Me and the autumn,
the falling leaves,
the field and all its glory,
the pumpkin and cranberry leaves dancing all around me.

Me and the winter,
an icy serenade,
the frozen earth in all its glory,
the purity of the heaven-given snow enveloping me.

Me and the spring,
a chatterbox of colors and green,
the thawing earth in all its glory,
the sweet promise the raindrops bring falling all around me.

Me and the summer,
a newly radiant sun so free and bright,
the blazing blue sky in all its glory,
the endless, languid days mesmerizing me.

Me and you,
a slow, persistent warmth illuminating hidden fields
our love, this flawed, bruised, and fragile thing
We are enough. Here. Now. Always.

SNAIL MAIL

SNAIL MAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Stu, with his shell brown and bold,
From the forest post office, he slowly strolled.
     With letters packed on his back galore,
     With slime as his tires, he slowly went to each door,
"Your snail mail's arrived!" he extolled.

“You fool! Haven’t you heard of email?” badger exclaimed
“Of all your slowness, you should be ashamed. 
     “With the click of a mouse 
     You no longer deliver from house to house.”
“But, but…I’ll lose my job,” Stu proclaimed.

“Oh, Stu, you’re so uninformed, so old school.
Your skill set you must totally retool!
     Have you not heard of UPS or perhaps FedEx?
     You can deliver packages and other objects!
“But snails don’t drive. You’re such a fool!”

“Besides, I’m looking forward to my postal pension
Not to mention days without strife and tension.
     And all those Forever Stamps I’ve amassed
     I’ll sell online or on my webcast.
Then with Musk I’ll travel to space, otherworldly dimensions.”

TIME AND GRACE

TIME AND GRACE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
time and grace intertwine
     time gives us moments
     grace restores and bestows 

time unfurls
     seconds dance
     minutes waltz with hours

time marches forward
     days turn into years
     never rewinds

time beguiles
     always alludes 
     denotes impermanence
     
grace guides
     illuminates life’s labyrinths 
     makes us whole

grace whispers
     moves with elegance
     ballet in motion
 
grace soothes
     flows like river    
     brings purpose and ease

time and grace a duo
     subtle yet profound
     transcendent and unbound

• Short 12Th Grade Poems
• Famous 12Th Grade Poems
• Best 12Th Grade Poems
• Read 12Th Grade Poems
• Long 12Th Grade Poems
• 12Th Grade Quotes

Poems Related to 12Th Grade

11th grade, 10th grade, 9th grade, 8th grade, 7th grade, 6th grade, 5th grade, 4th grade, 3rd grade, 2nd grade, 1st grade, high school, school