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Age Education Poems | Age Poems About Education

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

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Details | Quatrain |



Get off your galloping horse of youth’s impressions 
Stop looking down upon old age with contempt
You still on the planes of doubt and uncertainties
Having not yet made in life any real attempt       

Not even a hill of problems have you ascended 
Neither have you faced a serious thunderstorm
How is it possible for you ever to be assuming  
Without experience your elders to reform? 

You better stop and think for a single moment  
All those whose heads have turned white or gray
How many hills of harms and mountains of troubles 
Have they been through and climbed to this day  
Your youth, a spectacular time, for you to enjoy 
Dreams to make of what you would wish to assure      
Sadly though the future for you a possibility is only 
For everyone knows that nothing in life is for sure       

So the preferable thing you ought to be doing
Is to listen carefully to these experienced old folks
For better it is to learn from mistakes they made     
Than knowledge to gain from your very own faults! 

© Demetrios Trifiatis
 30 NOVEMBER 2013

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

I Was Young When I Left Home

   t'was a splendid night and I'm feeling hopelessly unknown 
 had a good old time, just a reeling with stories to be told
          now the paint is running out if the frame
        with my pockets emptied of loose change 
     I was young when I left home 
   I was young when I left home

when the heart is great and the world proves itself too small
     n' when a stark ambition arises if only to fall
         the battlefield was left bloody and cold
      they all had knives but I came through alone 
    I was young when I left home 
   I was young when I left home 

                    may you find yourself
            a good someone to talk to
        and say to hell with these 
            errant waves of misfortune 

   then I hear your name from the darkness as I'm walking through the snow
  and a pleasant warmth embraces me, seeps deep into my bones
         there is no pretense in your sweet smile 
       and I find the strength to go the extra mile  
     I was young when I left home 
    I was young when I left home

                      y'must find yourself 
             a good someone to talk to
     and say to hell with these
             errant waves of misfortune
                      'young when I left home 
                I was young when I left home 

Copyright © Rightly Jennings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Thank you

Thank you – Zamreen Zarook

Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.

Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.

People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.

Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

Bio in Short

It's been a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.

First Hollywood kiss
Behind a pink crepe myrtle.
Thanks, Patsy Werner.

High school was okay.
Didn't help me to focus;
So, my mind wandered.

Surfed Bonzai Pipeline,
Big waves break into lava.
What made me do it?

Vietnam jungles.
I wondered why I was there.
America lost.

Smoking pot. Stereo.
Good fun in the seventies.
Psychedelics too.

And three wives later,
I finally found true love.
We're still together.

My destitute heart,
Saved by the sweetest angel.
I love you, Sandy.

Sooners are my team.
Most winning football program
In the Modern Era.

I am retired now.
But I have plenty to do.
Golf, primarily.

I've been writing more.
Perhaps I will write a book.
I have many tales.

I'd chase young girls; but,
Girls with a "grampa" fetish
Are so hard to find.

If I am lucky,
I will just drop dead one day.
With my peace of mind.

Yes, made a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |

Because I'm ready to grow up

Because I'm Ready To Grow Up

I have had enough 
Enough with the happy times

I'm ready to take on the stress
No more playground or bubbles baths please
Enough with the piles and piles of mess
I'm grown up now ready for change

I had it with being a baby bird
I don't want to be fed I don't want to cry
I want to get out of the nest, spread my wings 
I want to take flight in the sky so high

I had enough of the princess dresses 
Get rid of those Barbie dolls
Throw away all those plastic high heels
And bring on the teenage texting of Lols

Don't u get it I've had enough
I'm ready to grow up to break out of the shell
I'm prepared to take on life's earthquakes 
Waiting for the day when I'll have stories to tell

Princesses and fairies will never be real
There is nothing in the world that's free
You don't magically have a happy ending
All i can be in life is me

So I'm ready to grow up
To escape the magical world
For you have to earn whatever you want
Nothing comes in a pink sparkly twirl

So I've had enough
Rip my childhood apart
I'm happy to face the impending future
drown the happy memories in my heart

Copyright © Sapphire Williams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Concrete |


A poem wrote by me, based on Person who is a deserving icon but still struggling hard with his career life and addressed as disturbed creature.

DISTURBED CREATURE--> Am I ??       BY Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

Am I so insane, Am I so mad,
Dramatic mood of mine is so die hard.
Destroyed my peace, Shattering my dreams,
People call me as disturbed creature.
As like mounting the pain, attenuating the drain!!

Digesting my feelings lying inside me,
Strangely nobody cared, call me sick.
Teasing me lavishly and my heart is pricked,
Hurted me like hell when addressed me as stupid.
As like showering rain, missing on the lane!!

Time lapse in journey of life,
Can hamper anybody on its path.
When I see innate reflex of mine,
I always use to brightly shine.
Though possessing every job attributes of mine,
I never thought the authorities will ditch and hamper my career line.
Falsely acting bloody swine, making my image as fade as wine.
As like affecting harmonious divine, my soul was, as is transparently pristine!!

Destroying me and testing my patience, Never wanna give up.
Transformed deviations, wanna rightly screw up.
I wanna raise up, I wanna shake up.
I wanna wake up, Tranquilize my mind.
Unzip the professional life compressed by the culprits.
Wanna explore myself, driving the motivated heights of journey.
Lastly waiting for the optimistic opportunity.
Cuffing the suspect ,I wanna rejoice by my pattern of life!! 

with Suyog Pagare

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka |

Journey: Tanka Sequence

remembered lines
of poetry from youth
just pretty poems
the adjectives and  adverbs
hypnotizing my heart

the poetic spell
almost consuming my life
from houseman to frost
and back to shakespeare
and dying inside for truth

so simple and silent
devoid of actual words
so memorable
useless dreams of prized stuff
carried away by wind and stars

Soon I was looking
at real stars and mountain crests
without prettys rosy fins
looking really looking
without judgement try to be

Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Love And Pricks

I Love the elderly so full of history I love my generation who kept me a mystery I love the children who's future, now bright for I have died for them to capture the light for i understand pain more than ever once I released it the anger got better as it went away from the people and into my music without a single reason to prove it without a reason to let Love's light in I didn't, it found me and lesser I sin God and my father both let me know it would all be okay so very long ago even tho the road would be full of pricks even back then I'd tell them you can all suck my dick. -Bj Fard

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

From Then To Now

Hand in hand we walked 
together into Reception
Nothing could stop us and 
together we were three
James and I LARP-ed Doctor 
Who for fun
We talked and laughed for 
Because no stress was in our 
Anna and I smiled and laughed
And jumped on our bouncy 
With nothing dividing us.

Side by side we walked 
together into Year 6
Some stranger stopped them to 
talk and broken we were alone
James and I talked about 
Doctor Who for fun
And we talked and kissed for 
But misunderstanding broke us 
Anna and I still smiled and 
And joked about our bouncy 
But secondary school was going 
to divide us.

With no one there I walked 
alone into Year 7
And a stranger became my 
friend and together we were 
Violet and I both loved Doctor 
And James found Dominic
So James and I talked for mere 
And school started pulling us 
Anna and I still laughed and 
Still promising to be friends 
Never letting it divide us

Suffocating and drowning I 
walked into Year 9
Hating how I was and feeling 
Katie and Chloe were so pretty
And Violet so funny and all 
were better than me
James and I hardly talked or 
saw each other
But we still made the most of 
our friendship
As we were like family, stress 
couldn’t break us apart
Anna and I laughed but I did 
not smile genuinely
Because the bouncy castle was 
long gone
And our schools were beginning 
to divide us

Dead yet breathing I stand 
right now
And I hate who am I and every 
single detail
Fights broke us up and pulled 
us apart
So I can feel Katie, Violet and 
Falling further out my reach
James moved house to a place 
And blamed me for never 
talking to him
But really it was because of my 
ex who was a girl
It was for something beyond 
my control
Anna and I were still friends; 
only by a thread
As she did not know about me
And how school broke me apart

So this is me now; I’m all alone
No longer the smiling young girl 
of reception
The only person talking to me 
is me
And the voice in side my head
You see; they all left me and 
always will
So now the only call I answer
Is that of my blades
And the darkness
That is constantly
Pulling me

Copyright © Teenage Frustrations | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |

Statutory Rape 101

Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Living Under The Weight Of A Label

The blind leading the blind, what is seen is how its heard
the thoughts that make the story are lost behind the words
do you see it as you view it, or take a deeper look 
do you read into the narrative or judge the cover of the book

Is the figure cold and dirty, the shell of what he's made 
or the unforgiven soul, that is waiting to be saved
does that body clad so poorly hold more than what is shown 
or just another mannequin, that has reaped just what was sown

Did you spare a dollar this morning or was your vision blind
or was that lonesome beggar just in the shadows of your mind 
you see that youth with his hooded clothes and jeans hung round his waist 
could he be a high school scholar or does his style not suit your taste 

That girl there, with the pushchair, yes she has a name 
does she love the child she carried, or did she play a foolish game 
And that solemn face behind the bars,the prisoner to his crime
Or the broken life held captive and the victim of a lie

That woman in the wheelchair, animated by expression
does she really have no hopes and dreams or are you too deaf to listen
that classy car, the modest tie, the briefcase at his side
is there a dark deceitful truth, buried deep beneath his pride

no life ahead with a dead end job, shoveling gruel from a grease filled tray
or the maturing child of a broken home, paying bills 'mum' couldn't pay
two babies need to find new homes, is it proof she couldn't cope
or could she not make the perfect life so instead she gave them hope

So they live on a rough estate, they're deviant thieving 'yobs'
and see their buttoned shirts and ties, they're private school 'snobs'
do you just see flecks of peeling paint, view this canvas as a whole 
or define each stroke of the artists brush that reach right to the soul

If opportunity played a fairer game and made judgement realise
then possibility could do its part, allow wisdom to remove disguise
yet with judgement passed and truth unseen, realisation is unable
to protect our children and ourselves 'living under the weight of a label'

Copyright © melanie jennings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


Four dimensions, yet three in one, 
Location, space and time,
X Y location, space around, and in time, 
We don’t consider an X as without a Y really. 
So quantum mechanics stand to floor, 
The claim of the atom’s indivisibility, 
Because there’s always the atom’s nucleus to consider, 
For qualifying it to be the smallest thing we know on earth. 

What’s time’s beginning is made of?
Can be minuscule, 
That subtle ignition of structure, 
Which formed life’s foundations, 
Set joy and inclination, 
That lit truth’s mandate to do the right. 

I was in hell when I was young, 
But time was a friend, 
Let me speak even when I couldn’t form;
Credibility is on time’s side by time’s identity,
As time’s the only form that can claim credibility, 
Without having acted or done, functioned, 
Only having been, only having presumed
Because credibility is the essence of that configuration:
That’s why you need to be a friend of time, 
Because time’s credible without you, 
And time will give you life, 
Time will not demand respect. 

I have not changed my view of time,  
With ages, triumphs and tragedies, 
But time has changed its face to me: 
More friendly, more gracious, 
More amorous. 

But I needed people on my side more, 
More trust surrounding my disability,
Sociology was not once nice to me, 
When time was on my doorstep. 

However, I could say it was my fault, 
More determination would’ve sufficed, 
More belief in two of us, not individuality, 
And more trust in asking emotionally, 
About anything, the physical. 

Time is truly physical, when it’s analysed, 
Because physicists inquire into it resolutely, 
And so I will always have that friend, 
Which I made as a child of recondite contortion. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Epic |

Betch Please, Really

I simply love being me for I am so good at everything step into my city and they will tell you who is King one day when I am hungry I will swallow everything then and only then shall I inherit the stuff I dream even then I promise not to settle for satisfaction at any instant half a second I could spring into full action so go against me? please, you do not even measure up to half of the goodness that I hold tight like my treasure still spreading rumors about me to try and destroy my life can't believe I let myself get beat by a stripper and my self-intended knife try and say I'm gay even though we both know that isn't the truth just ask any woman I been with if they ever needed proof they'll say I was the cream of the crop as they took it all night knowing I just may never stop I own the status of a legend now what you got left to say when I bring it twenty-four seven?

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

rose is beauty

rose is beauty like u
once crushed,
she would dissolve 
in the lap of soil,
with her tattered dreams
like every indian women

Copyright © sneha nair | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

When He Breaks You

When He breaks you

It is to re-make you.


If given the choice

To give destiny your voice

You would undoubtedly have picked this state

Such is the irony of fate


He breaks you now

So you later see the how -

How the pieces of your journey come to be

A slow but eventual solving of this mystery


He makes you work work work – then fail

So that you realize your means are of no avail

Without His will -

But feel His mercy fill -

Even through the aches still


He punctures your bubble of hope

To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope

To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’

Which you might say if it always did come so easy


He lets you fall

So that when you stand

It’s straight and tall

Your past sorrows

Not letting you drown

Without your ego

Weighing you down


Even while the road appears smooth

He lets you trip and trip again

So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures

From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain


In essence,

He knows Best

The perfect Teacher

Who puts the perfect test



He breaks you

To re-make you…


Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |


Primary school was all about playing
Around the place I was jumping
Within the yard was I running
Without time for reading
I played to pass examination

The primary school mentality
Move with me even affecting my civility
To the point that I eluded reality
Thinking, there was no reality

But the day dawned when I had a regression
In my education
Then, reading was the only solution
To the present situation
I read to pass examination

But the higher I go
The more I realize I have to stand on my toe
If at all I would want to glow
But, oh	! I did glow

Reading was now metamorphosed to studying
Since the situation now requires more than reading
Because the situation requires one energizing
In other to keep success acquiring
I now study to pass examination
I wonder; what will happen on my next level?

Copyright © Emerho O. Samuel | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |

When I Grow Up

"When I Grow Up"

When I was five, I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I told them I wanted to be a princess.

When I was eight, I wanted to be a waitress.

When I was twelve: a teacher.

When I was sixteen: a doctor.

Now when asked what I want to be in the near future,

I know exactly how to respond.

I want to be happy.

Copyright © Serena Mott | Year Posted 2014

Details | Didactic |

Building A Better Box

        Building a Better Box

To build a better box to store more things
Full of history, memory and other rusted stuff
Tools will have to cut and kill the trees
Trees will have to die and change their shape
Hinges made of metal will forever seal their fate
Nailed down, shut off in permanency 
On other dates trees will be cut and killed again
To build a better box to store more memories
Close the lid and go to sleep
Stay there as it ends and come to a stop
Sealed up and in eternity 
That which remains within will turn solid
To become the box 


Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Didactic |

Dinosaurs Remains

          Dinosaurs Remains

Dinosaurs drink history through straws
Chiseled out rocks and stones through time
Ubiquitous to the past and future
In the good old days before the comets came
They played dinosaurs games of war
Dreamed of making hot dogs and burgers from human remains
And drinking goo through elongated tubes
In the far far future, on special dinosaur holidays  
Anthropologically speaking; we are just another meal
Archaeologists dig the truth, through flying dust with brushes
With fine and tiny tools they pick away the layers
Uncover bones born to die 
They etch them out as prizes
Rocks wait their turn to bury us, to be discovered later
Some explorer will unearth humans in the distant future
To find out who and what we were
Uncover what the bones might tell them
Shape our remains into dice
Toss them on the ground with magic 
Divine that human, an ancient alien species, once lived in cities 
And drank through straws  
That’s about all

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Didactic |

Puzzle Man

            Puzzle Man

Sex is sex with connections
According to “them”, chemistry plays a part
There are a lot of ins and outs, ups and downs with coitus
It has been suggested certain parts are needed for functionality
Utilization of external & internal parts might be required
Facts of life in accordance with birds and bees philosophy

“They” say it’s all about relations, (perhaps aided by vibrators or vibrations)
There are 3 kinds of sex;
1.)	Playing by oneself with one self
2.)	Sex between 2 persons
3.)	Orgies? Or morgies? Or mortgages?  (ménage a trios might fit this 
I’m confused about mortgages and it does not sound like fun
Then there’s sex with animals but that’s just wrong    
Commitment plays another part, free will with honor, monogamy
Other people pay for it. (Don’t get lost. Stay focused.  We’re talking sex.)
                      A business transaction, that comes with or without diseases

Trying not to be litigious
“They” also say other things regarding human beings and sex
Compatibility, social, economic, religious components weigh in

All is well with puzzle man….if he has a home, a job, a car
The car, as far as we know, always trumps a bike when dating
Competition is healthy in relations “they” say 

Parties involved in coitus know
Sex doesn't happen on its own
One must be properly lubricated and maintained 
Like an auto or chu chu train
I imagine it must be like a banana penetrating a donut
Not a savory sight
Again…. You need a home, or shopping cart, or car
Even up in a tree will do if you’re in the mood
To be accomplished
Reading books on what parts fit with other parts is desirable
They say the most important thing about such things is love
I wouldn't know about such things
It’s all a puzzle to a little man like me 
I only have a bicycle you see so sex is out of the question
Also, I’m only 3
Mother is about to bathe me
She had better keep her hands to herself
I want to figure these things out alone and by myself

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

When I Was Young

When I was young
I walked 30 miles in the snow to school
With no shoes or clothes or candy coated treats
No hands or feet either
And that aint nothing easy
I was nobody’s fool
We crawled about on our bellies for a living
Ate dirt and mud and lived on faith
Our only friend was Jesus
He gave us everything we needed
Hard work, turkey on Thanksgiving 
More work, death and taxes
What else could a person want?
You youngins today don’t know how good you got it
When I was young 
And walked 100 miles in the snow
Or was it 30?....I don’t remember….
I'll have to ask Jesus
He knows about religion and distances and other such things

Entered "Jesus" poetry contest on 6/07/16 Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |


Not truly audible, visible, olfactory or tactile; Icy; Undeserving; Complicated as usual; I have faith that he is protecting me; Wheat and stars; Until I die; No matter how close I get I still want to be closer; Nobody can help me but me; L.O.V.E.; Never to be possessed; A rite of passage; The will to live; Present in a fantasy; Cold as the endless winter of the tundra; Not lustful; A mental peace that endures forever;

Copyright © Andre Ribera | Year Posted 2014

Details | Couplet |


Sleep deprivation and anxious repetition,
Doubt implantation and stress intoxication,
Coffee-painted teeth and shaking fingers to the brim --
Throttled displeasure between her and him

I don't trust myself with the door closed
Don't depend on the music to make me composed
I don't ask for help from the nightingale;
My soul nor my heart are up for the Devil's sale

Pen ink running low and late nights sold to paper,
Heartbreak on top of food that's lost all of its flavor,
Forgetting how to laugh and rejecting invitations,
Planning for the end day when we can start the jubilations.

Nine AM sharp, the clock hands making a rattle --
Flash cards and no breakfast: now into battle

Copyright © Eunice-Grace Domingo | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Doc Holliday Bites the Dust

Doc Holliday Bites the Dust

By Elton Camp

Doc Holliday’s depicted as a vicious killer
But his actual life was much less of a thriller
Not in the West, but in Georgia he was born
By a classical education his life did adorn

Among the areas where knowledge he did seek
Were grammar, math, history, Latin and Greek
Highly intelligent and certainly nobody’s fool
At just age twenty, he finished dental school

In Atlanta he then began to practice dentistry 
But found, of his mother’s TB, he wasn’t free
On medical advice Holliday moved to the west
As its climate made his chances of living best

But at his dental profession Doc couldn’t stay
Since his constant cough drove patients away
It then became at gambling he earned living
An undeserved name as a gunman also giving 

As far as from the historical record we can see
The number of men he shot was actually three
At age thirty-six, Doc Holliday died in bed
Living at a tuberculosis sanitarium, it is said

Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2012

Details | Didactic |

Solid Ideas

            Solid Ideas

A solid idea has a myriad of concrete corners
When you step off the curb take one with you and iron boots
It follows you with definable mass and weight
With cold hard facts to anchor
A solid idea is one that is frozen in time chiseled
Like a statue of hard marble it is always there
Asphalt and trees fill in the landscape by the river
Solid ideas sometimes bathe in the sun by the banks
Hold on to railings of the ship if you should sail there
Metallic footwear will not save you
If you float down the stream of consciousness 
Or away into the atmosphere
The edges of street blocks are covered in salt
Under a microscope the crystalline structures take shape
Are cube like forms bunched together
A solid idea is one that grips you firm like that
It replaces, displaces water on the brain
I keep my solid ideas locked up
In chains, in basements, in refrigerators
To be taken out on special occasions
Poured over ice to thaw conversations 

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Didactic |

Lessons On Being Poor Staying Poor

     Lessons On Being Poor Staying Poor

This seminar begins at once and lasts a lifetime
Being poor, staying poor, is not that complicated
A nasty person full of sin and crime is perfect for this job
Did I say job?  Remove that word instantly
From your dictionary

The proper candidate to start a life of poverty
To be truly indigent, without a penny to your name 
Must call on all the primal elements of ignorance you can

This is a science, of simple principals
Down below the poverty lines upon the aged faces
And lower levels of disgrace that put you in your places
Right around the corner, in the gutter, no social graces

So write these items down so you remember
To start you in the right direction
Of being real pathetic
Not a member of the human race
That race is run

Here are the guidelines for non-prosperity, poverty forever:
 NO EDUCATION:  Stay away from schools.  Be as dumb as you are.  You can afford it.  Ignorance is bliss, so don’t resist.  Don't miss out on this.
  DO DRUGS: Get intoxicated.  Get numb.  There is nothing like addiction.
  GO TO JAIL: A life of crime is perfect to keep you down. It is insurance for the poor
  LOOK WHO IS NOT LOOKING:  Never find work.  Don’t let it find you.  Refuse  all kinds of labor.  Live a life on welfare and roller skate.  (Image is everything.)
   DON'T DRESS FOR SUCCESS:  Wear dirty shabby rags, tattered shoes with holes.     Don’t forget tattoos of Hitler, Stalin and Satan, imprinted on your face.
   BE A LITTLE STINKER - No hygiene for you. Never take a bath or comb your hair  or brush your teeth. (Teeth should be green or better still, no teeth.)
   LOOK WHO'S NOT LOOKING GOOD:  Be fat.  Be ugly, (That comes naturally.) Be      sickly.  Revel in your diseases.  Share them with the neighbors as special favors.  

    *Borrow.  Steal.   Never save. … Did I mention not to shave? 
    *Attitudes are good.  Bad ones are better.  Nasty dispositions will take you the distance just past your nose.  Going around naked couldn't hurt.

Picking your nose, wearing pajamas everywhere you go will send a signal too.

Poverty is very easy.  Stay away from movie stars and famous people.  In fact, stay away from everyone who is not creepy.  Hang out with crazies and other lazies.
Remember it all starts with you.   Be true.  Stay dumb.  Suck your thumb.  Stay in bed all day.  Be indigent in every way
To find that inner peace

Class is ended.  Go in poverty.

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

The Day I Went to Uni

The most important day of my whole life, 
Was the day I went to Uni, bold and stark, 
‘Cos it said to my parents that my mind’s state, 
Was with the academics and society’s quark. 

They called me as a child insane and queer, 
For wanting my brother’s toys, books and pencils; 
They also actually called me mentally ill, 
For not wanting girly clothes which did frill. 

I had my nose in the encyclopaedias and dictionaries, 
And they just couldn’t figure why or understand,
And wouldn’t leave me to browse and scan:
Wouldn’t in love care and just let me have my stand. 

Society was for sinners, every day they pointed out, 
But I felt that it was the fundamentalist Christians,
Who were cold, uncaring, and without clout; 
Ready to explode in anger at any societal person. 

But they knew who I was on that day going to Uni, 
On the journey to Glasgow in the Grenada car, 
And so when I was subjective, contemplative and still, 
My dad rudely V’d me with his fingers in a spar.  

I think they thought I'd say nothing and carry on, 
But I waited a few seconds and then firmly replied, 
“What was that for?” and he retorted “What?” 
And that glint of something in me for them died. 

I gave a few murmurs, but succeeded in letting it go, 
Having quietly shed a tear about my childhood and early life,
But I promised myself to tell the Hall wardens about the gesture, 
Who also made me swear to tell them of any future strife. 

And then in my second year, when my dad became, 
The conductor of Billy Graham’s choir, 
When I made the wardens aware of my pain,
They took me to the cinema and loved me plain. 

It makes it so much better, other people’s concern,
Just that bit of interest that you've never had to earn; 
Talking about one’s problems puts colour in your cheeks, 
And life will be to you that whatever one truly seeks.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

A Kaleidoscope

A kaleidoscope, a mixture of colors and light
So hard to describe so hard to write
Just like a life just like mine
Here is mine my time to shine

The colors change just like time
A life goes on to hit its prime
No matter what it keeps on changing
Just like life keeps on arranging

My story begins at age six
When life was suddenly no easy fix
The Kaleidoscope began to turn
And its center began to churn

My father left our family home
He left alone to go and roam
Suddenly the Kaleidoscope went dark
Even now it’s left its mark

It remained unturned for about two years
And the movement became quite severe
My Mother moved away from home 
To improve her new teaching career

The shades of blue came into play
As most of my family had passed away
My mother was strong and held my hand
Even though nothing had gone as planned

My family will always be in my heart
Those small blue beads will play their part
At that time I was almost nine
I pretended that I was just fine

The colors changed from blue to red
I went on with almost no dread
At age eleven I moved once more
I moved again to the California core

I spent the next year in shades of green
All the kids were just too mean
I went to Junior and then Senior High
Then it was time to say goodbye

The Kaleidoscope turned and made a painting
My life became very entertaining
That’s when I met you for the first time
My hope and happiness began to climb

But My Father turned my Kaleidoscope for me
And I asked and cried my pitiful plea
On the weekends the kaleidoscope turns black
With nothing there to change it back

There are ups and downs, lights and darks
With many blond moments and smart remarks
My life will always be turning fast
Even so I have time to look back at my past

If I remember one thing it is that
My life was nothing like combat
But I still fought wars of my own
Without them my world would still be unknown

There is nothing quite like a kaleidoscope
It’s a symbol of change and hope
I like to think my life is like this
So look back and reminisce

Look back at your thoughts and dreams
But remember nothing is as it seems
The Kaleidoscope will turn to show your past
What was boring and what was a blast

Mine shows everything you’ve done for me
You showed me how fun life can be
You made my life what it is now
To this day I still wonder how

Thank you for turning my Kaleidoscope
And giving me strength and the power to cope
You made my life a beautiful rainbow
You deserve more than you will ever know

Copyright © Molly Alcorn | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

A New Reality

(Another very old, slightly tweaked, piece from childhood)

"Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still..."
    T.S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

When, drop by drop, slice by slice,
the wine and bread, body and blood,
are totally consumed -- when Unknown's
fantasies smash against the rock of Truth --
when medicine ball heads are obsolete
and emancipation's dream materializes,
when the age of majority is attained,
and playthings are put away in Mind's attic --
foibles and fables stored with childhood mementos --
then; perhaps then!

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2016

Details | Classicism |

Thanksgiving Water Drops

The wind was moving into the mist of heaven, 
it is a fog of light streaming from down below, 
in its eyes of realization,
into the unknown of the bliss and sound waves
echoing to be into the vastness 
of the light blue sky, and beyond the enormous
bright stream of shadowy rainfalls.

Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013