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Ode School Poems | Ode Poems About School

These Ode School poems are examples of Ode poems about School. These are the best examples of Ode School poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode |

Middle School Nicknames Part 1

I am the girl with many names, 
At first when you said my name, “Madison”- it had been so crisp on your tongue, as if a leaf  of autumn had torn beneath your sneaker. As we walked out together.. on that pastoral day. 

I swooned when you said it, You spoke it, as if it were your own- as if you had picked it from the orchard of names.
You handed me the dainty ones- like, “Maddie.” so soft on your tongue, that it made me feel all warm and fuzzy, like I was cupping a peach in my palms.

Then, one day when you saw me- the true bud blossoming, 
my heart unfolding  like my floral printed skirt, draped over my tiny waist.

That is when you gave me- began to pester me..
with the cute pet names.

I've been called many names, “Cutie.” but I am not a clementine,
my personality is not round, it is curly like my sandy, golden strands of hair.

Oh, but you- You call me “Mad Dog.”

“Mad Dog,” my collar that fits upon the long nape of my neck,
You say it to my friends, and strangers who happen by, “...Oh Mad Dog...” 

Mad Dog- to you is when the apples of my cheeks go rosy, blushing in shades of primrose pink. It is when my brows arch, or my eyes touch the corners,
the edges of the room. 

This name it grows into ivy,
 then flourishes into soft spring blossoms,
of, “Mad Bunny,” “Mad Bear.’ the nurturing names to define my compassion..
and my passion for the love of Mother Earth.

You call me “Thumper,” when I tap my heels on the floor, a ballad 
for you to drum to with your pencil.

The symphony of Middle School nicknames, 
resounding thru my ears… each one following me- trailing behind me, leaving breadcrumbs of what I once was seen as,

As a Middle School girl, with lavender frames, tiny footsteps,
and sweet warbles- stumbling off her tongue.
I am the poetic one, the deep one… who can recite every verse of wisdom, I attain.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Middle School Nicknames Part 2

And yet, you are the charming one, with charisma bursting at the seams of your creme grey sweatshirt.. and the tender strands of your ash blonde hair...
And your gaping eyes of blue, 
that take me into an undertow of enigma
and daydreams. In which I can never escape- from those tides of blue that pour from the irises of your eyes.

You, I call “Brownie.” not only because of your soft brown hair, 
that reminds me of softened chocolate chips baked into the heart shaped cookies I gave you. But to emphasize your sweetness-
 that comes from your tone; 
Your soft syllables they make me melt… melt slowly like a marshmallow caressed by embers of a smoldering campfire.

There is much we give, to one another- I give you my eyes, the sea green swirls 
that make you step lightly into bliss- even though you trip over your own feet.. when preening yourself as I walk by.

And you…
You give me your deep blue eyes, and your long, slow motion winks; 
you share with me the palms of your hands- so soft.. when you touch me.. or stroke the back of my neck, accidentally.

For you are the portrait of Soothing.
and I am your Admirer..
As am I your gallery- and the one painting of gentle colors that you brush with your palms..

The painting:

the dark blue of wildflowers etched- compared to 
my polka dotted dress, that I curtsy in.

The ivory clouds, alike the lace of my tank top...
when you gaze at me, and all the heat flushes back into me.. 
that melts the tips of my fingers… and awakens the seed of  romanticism inside of me.

This Silly little Attraction, where our friends nudge us to touch,
to bare fruit upon the Acacia Tree in our minds… that maybe…

Just maybe we should date, and 
that “Mad Dog,” and “Brownie,” 
should once and for all, share each other's sweet offerings,
Of blissful love.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Ode to my School

Shining teal
And smokey black.
I'm a knight 
Riding proud.

My home
In hallowed halls 
Of learning here.
Forever I'm a knight.

The people of learning
Nurture and care
Knights in a kingdom
Of whiteboard wonders.

Ode to my school,
A home away.
I wish I could be here
Most every day.

Copyright © Sienna Muniz | Year Posted 2010

Details | Ode |

Because They Play the Game

Dedicated to every young man bestowed the honor of wearing 
the glorious Oklahoma Sooners' Crimson & Cream 


Over sixty years, boy and man, I have been a Sooners fan;
And always hoped to be among the truest in the stands.
And while I don’t remember all the Players’ names,
They’re my Heroes, each and every one, because they play the game.
When they’re on the field of battle, my Sooners surely give their all;
And when they’re on the sidelines, just waiting for a Coach’s call;
Visions of Glory must be dancing in their heads;
The Glory of the moment and our cheers, the Glory of playing for
   the mighty Big Red.

And for those Sooners who rarely played, whose names were 
   known only by a few,
Make no mistake my friend, each of them is my Hero too.
Like Soldiers waiting in the ranks, but never called to fight,
They ‘re ready and they’re willing, their spirit and their sacrifice
   add to Big Red’s might.

I stand in awe of Sooner Magic.  No, I never doubt it.
My Sooners could have never won so many Championships without it.
But don’t misunderstand when I say Sooner Magic won those games;
It was Sooners players who, once again, rose to the occasion and
   glorified the name.

Sixty years of college football and my Sooners have won the most.
Their fierce pride and performance inspire this simple toast:
“My Sooners Team goes on and on, different faces, different names;
But my Heroes, Each and Every one, for win or lose…
                                 They play the game.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

An Ode To My Beloved

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |


Ha ha ha ha. Here's a poem for all the UK and USA school teachers who are writing any school reports - and they want to tell the real truth about their pupils!!!!!!


I’m writing here a useful
For those who’ve never
To help you understand
the terms
Used in a school report.

Teachers are most careful
They write the term’s 
They’re honest but they’re
So as not to give offence.

A “lively child” is often one
You peel off a wall.
To call him bad or even 
Just wouldn’t do at all.

“Lacking motivation” is a
Coded way of saying:
‘He doesn’t lift a finger but
Likes gossiping and playing.’

A child that’s “lacking social
In terms both straight and
Is one who snatches what he
wants –
In fact, he’s bloody rude!

“Lacking presentation skills”
Is nothing more or less
Than saying his work’s 
‘It’s all a scruffy mess.’ 

So when you open his 
Please stay that generous
Top of his class, or sat on
his a**e?
Make sure you understand.


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Kevin Garnett

KG, the "Big Ticket"
as you are fondly called
every game you bring it
playing so fierce and so bold..

From high school sensation
to NBA superstar
an MVP recognition
and a 10-time All-Star..

Filling up the stats 
and lighting up the scoreboard
with each board, dime, swipe, swat,
and every hoop that you score..

The talent, the leadership,
the aura, the appeal,
the whole package, you have it
plus all those endorsement deals..

An outstanding contributor
on and off the court
a citizenship award winner
the community you support..

One of the greatest ever
but still without a ring
soon you'll get what you deserve
and be hailed champion, a king..

Copyright © Rany Fortuno | Year Posted 2006

Details | Monorhyme |

Ode to a Terrific Teacher

He opens learners’ hearts with the key of kindness;
passionately plant in them the seeds of success
and watch them grow in the garden of greatness.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

He wields words from the wellspring of wisdom
to water worm-wheat in the field of freedom...
and shield them from the throne of thralldom;
Talk about a terrific teacher.

He tells his students the lore of love and life,
and the right use of rocket, rifle and knife 
to save them from baseless storms and strife;
Talk about a terrific teacher.

He wakes up each day with this golden goal:
To tenderly touch each pupil's spirit and soul,
and make their broken bones worthy and whole.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

He prays for each pupil to have an honourable heart,
out of which will flow the beauty of eternal art
so they can be sincere, sensible and smart.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

He is a mentor with a matchless mission,
practicing what he preaches with pure passion;
his friends are spurred to have a vibrant vision.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

When winter’s wool and whirlwind betide,
and the streams of life roar in stormy tide;
he gives warm words to guard and guide...
Talk about a terrific teacher.

Examination is not just a test of intelligence;
it is also a test of creativity and confidence...
his students enjoy inspiring independence.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

In poor pupils, he see a pool of great possibilities,
he teaches them to tap from the oasis of opportunities
springing in their desert of difficulties...
Talk about a terrific teacher.

Some folks are only interested in high income;
he looks out for inspiring inputs and learning outcome...
his job is to make the future bright and awesome.
Talk about a terrific teacher.

Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Family and Friends

Family, the enemy of our souls wants us to believe
The lie that we are alone
He wants us to believe
That we are treading hopeless road

But the cloud witnesses who urge us on
Tell us another story
The road we tread with light and beauty and fellowship
My friends, we are never alone

Written 09292012

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

2nd Period Ode

Second Period Ode
Michael, Jaydin, Jin, Ashley, Andre, Ametriyus, J’Maine, Amari, Beijae, Morgan, Dr. Corbin and Mrs. Tobey

O, backpack with your books and pencils and things,
You weigh a ton, but you are my wings.
You carry my stuff wherever I go
But sometimes I wish 
That you could stay home.
You are the hump on my back,
Like a camel in the desert.
In reality you are my treasure.
You carry my dreams to the ocean of knowledge.
You’re my path to success,
My key to college.
You used to be shiny and new
now you are heavy and dirty too.
With duct tape and staples to keep you together
You are full of promises and hope
And I’ll keep you forever.

Copyright © Sue Corbin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

2nd Period Ode

Second Period Ode
Michael, Jaydin, Jin, Ashley, Andre, Ametriyus, J’Maine, Amari, Beijae, Morgan, Dr. Corbin and Mrs. Tobey

O, backpack with your books and pencils and things,
You weigh a ton, but you are my wings.
You carry my stuff wherever I go
But sometimes I wish 
That you could stay home.
You are the hump on my back,
Like a camel in the desert.
In reality you are my treasure.
You carry my dreams to the ocean of knowledge.
You’re my path to success,
My key to college.
You used to be shiny and new
now you are heavy and dirty too.
With duct tape and staples to keep you together
You are full of promises and hope
And I’ll keep you forever.

Copyright © Sue Corbin | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Ode To Jerry: 1930-1952

One of the greatest pals that I have ever had,
Was a high school buddy and fellow grad!
He was renowned as the notorious class clown,
And his antics evoked from educators many a frown!

We had so many great times around Hagerstown!
'Twas hard to keep our youthful exuberance down,
As we raced up and down those tranquil streets,
Eluding frustrated cops on their nightly beats!

Often we double-dated with our sweethearts,
In my old '37 Ford that ran in fits and starts!
But our girlie friends didn't seem to mind,
As we cruised about with our arms entwined!

Upon graduation, in the Air Force I enlisted.
I asked him to enlist with me, but no he insisted!
In just a few years after we had parted,
The terrible conflict in Korea was started!

He answered the summons of his nation,
As others before him had met that obligation.
Mournful "Taps" was played over a hero's grave,
Alas, this time for beloved Jerry so gallant and brave!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

PFC Gerald V. McCoy was KIA, 23 Oct 1952, Triangle Hill, North Korea.  

Entry for michael hornschurch's "Ode To A Friend" Contest

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Captain Harvey The King of School

Captain Harvey the King of School

Captain Harvey still goes to school
He doesn’t like it, but he is no fool
He goes each and every day
Because he knows he will learn that way.

What the teachers don’t seem to know
That Captain Harvey needn’t go
Because Captain Harvey is the King of School
He just uses it as a necessary tool	
He knows that sometimes it’s not really cool 
If others think you are a fool

He doesn’t wear his underpants on the top of his clothes
Nobody can see them there so everybody knows
Like other Captains he’s read about who wear them on the top
He wears them where they should be when he bought them from the shop. 

Captain Harvey runs real fast
None can catch him, he is a blast
He pretends to fail some of the time 
But everyone knows that’s not a crime
Harvey the Captain, the King of school
Has a little brother and he’s kind not cruel
Captain Harvey is paving the way 
For when brother Max starts school one day

Captain Harvey and his brother
They will be a good strong team
The King will have a partner; they will be the real cream
The boy Max will need a title that won’t make the others wince
It will be Harvey the King of School and introducing his little prince.

Written for my G nephews Harvey and  Max to encourage Harvey who hates school .

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Ode To My Alma Mater

I had hoped there would be a 50th class reunion for my class of 67.
Instead, I got word the other day that Aggie High is closing its doors.

For four years, I was taught by some of the finest teachers in America.
For four long years, I filled your library, classrooms, and walked your hallways.                                                     
I was challenged and succeeded in math and was greatly inspired by my Biology Classes. I was arrested and captured,  moved and mesmerized, by my charismatic History teacher.  I even listed on your honor roll and sang in your very respected and talented choir.

I moved away 50 years ago and unfortunately, I have visited you only two or three times since.  Just a few months ago, I was privileged to dialogue via telephone with my Art teacher's wife.  Perhaps he knew of your coming closure, but he wasn't home to inform me.

O Aggie, I am sadden by the news, but I have come to understand such matters. O Aggie, it's interesting that you have joined a long list of changes and closures in my life.  It's also interesting that things I once thought would be history, instead are now current events.  Furthermore, it's interesting that, like many of my past acquaintances, I always get little warning.

O Aggie, all things have beginnings and endings, but know this: you have been a launching pad and a gallant educator, rocketing many of us to the stars.  What you have instilled in us is forever credited to your account. You have fought a good fight, and your course is near the finish.           

My eyes are getting watery Now.  So I must cease and desist, lest my proud and tender memories of you get the best of me. 
04082017 PS Contest, Paschal Premier, Brian Strand

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Ode to the High School Years

High school is the one everybody should, and will remember. I know what life was like in
high school. When he and/or she was a high school freshman, sophomore, junior and senior,
that's a fact. There's high school football games on Friday nights, he and/or she can go
to dances, and attend school functions like, the choir, math club, Spanish club, the
works. The homecoming events and the homecoming dance were all part of all of us former
high school students.  But what we really liked when we were in high school most of all
was when we were high school seniors, especially when it comes to getting ready for
college. Prom night is important to every high senior, especially when they have dates or
not. If all of us were to go back to high school years and change all of everything,
things will be different.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Ode to Sharon Olds

Dear Sharon, I see no end 
To the rant of an educated mind
Once the pen is moving. I've seen A students
Butcher my writing. I remember the Fall
Of 2009, the poetry workshop at Stony Brook University,
The hipsters and emotional braggers
Eying my work and telling me what it was about
While the smirk on my face concealed
The howls of piteous laughter.

I walked the solemn paths
Of that heavily decorated school
Where trees had been uprooted
And replaced by foster bushes,
Convinced that my English professors
Do not know how to read, but only how
To dissect.

However, I also remember the A on my report.
It was the proudest one I'd ever had,
And I thought of the first day of class
When we were asked to choose a poet
To fall in love with.

I thought of the summer of 2006
When I walked into a little book store in Hampton Bays,
Pointing my freckle tipped nose at the poetry section,
Looking for something new
To look up to or somebody else
To look into.
I picked through the leaves of Blood, Tin and Straw
By the shelf, at the register and on the way to my car.
I read it to friends and perfect strangers
As a devout fan and penniless salesperson.

I did not take notes or scribble on the pages.
I did not create bull- in the hopes to expound
Some undiscovered truth
Between the style and context.
I did not uncover the root of your sorrows and joy,
For you had already done the task
So perfectly.

Mrs. Olds, you and I find solace
In a dying art. I see you as a friend
As I've seen you as
A lover, a mother, and a mentor
Through the gift of a vivid imagination
Where I've been given the chance
To love and applaud your work
In the comfort of my room,
Under the flickering light
Where the renditions of your heart
Lure me to sleep
As a silent lullaby.

It is an artist like you who keeps me writing.
It is knowing the chances,
That if my words can reach a soul
Like yours have reached mine,
Then there is still purpose in contemporary poetry
In my home, my heart, and my spirit
Outside of the classroom.

Copyright © Mike Frampton | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |



He was renowned for farming 
ploughing lands as large as atlantic  
but his harvests he keeps beyond the sea
beyond the sea all he got

Down here, his roof leaks
his town roads untared
they make use of his wealth
to paint their town more white

he thinks his wealth is safe 
but the value they use
promising him security and secrecy
to shut their mouth from his people

his pots occupied
by cockroach and rats
as had been aboandoned by his wife
his children grow everyday
developing big belly and head

He goes back to use ibeleju as lamp
but he claims to be rich
his children goes fishing to pay their fees
the school fees he has refused to pay

they built a school for their wards
and beg them to look inside papers
nobody pays a penny
those are the people beyond the sea

his wealth is intact
but had been used
times without number for their anuual budget
they beyond the seas

Worms leak his intestine
and his offsprings from six to two
he took their looks to the people
the people beyond the sea

they gave him a name "Malaria"
Malaria took them all
contented he came
carring no less for his kwashiokor wards

His bicycle like buried iron
yet he appears before his kinsmen
to speak in language that tingles
they smirk at him

though the gods let him live
his expliots and wealth
managed and utilized by the people
the people beyond the sea

he claims to be learned
while they have brain washed him
he trusted them
and left our heritage

the gods forbide
our black heritage
that our fathers died to protect
like our brotherly love

Our heritage
that forbade greed
he forgot our maxim
that of Unison

him that our fathers gave the "Ofor"
the Ofor that represents power
power to protect our interest
our black interest

the gods bear us witness
witness of our unquenched suffering
starving in front of plenty
plenty at the so called bank

banks beyond the sea banks
the name for their civilised theft
theft because they use the value
the value of your wealth
to reinforce themselve

the Ofor has fallen
from his hands
the gods has departed  from him
but he will not believe

our chambers now lagoons
lagoons from the light shawers
our tables now canoes
and soup spoons paddle

mosquitoes now our pets
nursing our children
our working age amended
starting from 6  to sleep

our heads now bald
not from age
but from fetching water
water from the eden 

Copyright © Magnus Nwagu Amudi Esq | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Untitled #44 / Thin

Plug it in! Pump it up!
Thin as a razorblade, the device
turn back and look at other lost people

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |

An Ode to Modern Warfare

Early this morning, as I walking down to my lesson
I passed my Irish colleague returning from a Shakespearean session
Perhaps still thinking about the Bard, the King and the fool
As he gingerly traversed the minefield that is Simba School.

Oh! Mines and missiles inundate this scholastic terrain
And on one’s agility do place much physical strain
For teachers must side-step discarded bags and litter
Or the ballistic speed of some gossip-crazed critter.

Such is the volatility and unpredictability on this battleground
That careless missilery does ruthlessly abound
Ready for another, untimed, dubious, un-aimed at launch 
That might sock our Economist upon his paunch. 

Of course, primitive methods, such as those David used
Might upon our historian or accountant be abused
As a bag-load of books might catapult through the air
And catch you on the forehead, full and square.

It’s a battleground, this, the halls of Simba School
Where “badly-uniformed” guerillas vociferously rule!

Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

Untitled #32 / Crazy physicist

Crazy physicist! So, you can
put a man on the moon?
Ooh! I have a new problem!
Calculate the trajectory of my soul
as it leaves my body!

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Thanks, Ray

To the one too good
Too transcendent
Too detached
Too soft
Too yamaka
For those who would

Thanks for helping me
in programming class

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Untitled #46 / Plastered posters

Plastered posters up on dividers
laminated and preserved for generations
of students, marching by filing
nameless the years, uncounted
the numbers

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Untitled #49 / The voicebox of God

In the corner the voicebox of God
lies silent except at 10:10 every morning
the pledge, the announcements, the moment
of silence, now his muted mouth
frowning silent disapproval.
What does He know of mortal strife?

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Untitled #45 / Scribbles

Gray scribbles scratched into black desks
the pent-up hatred of a thousand fiery days
J.Y.’s work is lost, but his rage
radiates and multiplies in our quiet moments

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Untitled #47 / Upon the emptied blackboards

Upon the emptied blackboards
chalkdust yet remains,
smeared, the work of a
thousand problems, minds behind each,
even the blue message of a
young lady waving goodbye.

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

for CHS

       Locust of green
       Swarm of yellow
       Snakish march along
       The snaking path

       Dark fertile mother of
              Ijesa-isu Land
       Giant potter of thousand fingers
       Meek moulder of Midas touch
       Age-long furnace of golden embers
       Behold a citadel

Copyright © Sola Ajibogere | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |


I am a very proud school-
boy and proud of my gender,
But if a teacher sends me a
letter - I'll address it; 'Return
To Sender!'
The teacher's are obsessed
with it - they have to "tow"
the line,
But please leave us boys 
and girls alone - we really
all feel fine.

But the nation has gone so
silly about our gender role,
Maybe if I become a girl - 
I'll dance around a pole!
I also know what clothes to
wear - and blue is my 
favourite - 
But I also like to wear pink -
it may cause a mass riot!

The girls all look good in 
their skirts - and we boys
will be boys;
And if we do admire their
legs - the teachers, it annoys.
We don't mind sharing a
loo - boy, I could take a 
All this excitement - and I
only want a leek!

Now this has got to stop - 
as it's now getting silly.
I'm now called; 'Lola - 
but once I was Billy.'
So stop all this gender
nonsense, because boys
and girls are NOT the
Because we all like playing
kiss chase - and kissing
is the game!

We are gender different
and that is very true,
Even when we're in the
loo - there's always a
big queue!
If the government can't
see that - nor the teacher's
They've all got too much
time on their hands - with
nothing else better to do!


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Untitled #48 / Til;es of remembrance

Tiles of remembrance of classes
long past, replacing blankness
painted handprints and colors and smiles
spanning the length of the ceiling, forever
reserved for the posterity of wandering eyes.
How glorious the sunset! Our days unforgotten!

Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007