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Best 12Th Grade Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best 12Th Grade poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of 12th grade poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best 12Th Grade Poems

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Beauty Can't Compete



When the last rays of sunlight start to die scarlet flames burn the sky, as clouds ignite. And while the birds roost, bats begin to fly hunting down elusive moths in mid-flight. Luna hangs high in an ebony sky spinning dreams into beams of golden light. And twinkling stars, like fireflies in the night confetti the heavens, dazzling the eye. Like gold filigree pinned to the darkness swirling galaxies adorn the skies above as shooting stars unzip the black of space. Yet, Man stands unabashed in His starkness, for cosmic beauty can't compete with love an emotion intrinsic to our race. (Italian Sonnet) Aug 7, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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What Is Stopping You

What is holding you back?
What is stopping you?
What is making you uncomfortable 
about asking?
about wanting?
about dreaming?
about wishing?
about expecting?
about planning?
about setting new goals?
about learning new things?
about figuring out other ways?
about being your most excited self?
about opening yourself up to new opportunities?
New  possibilities? New people? New places? A new job?
Or is it a who?


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Go Away



wars, drugs, poverty famine, fear, rape, death and degradation that's the kind of world desperate immigrants flee and yet, we won't let them in go die on the other side of our new wall and stay away, this is ours we should be ashamed...they are fellow humans there's no kindness in our hearts no tolerance, even for God's commandment that we love our neighbors, as we love ourselves (Suzette Prime) Aug. 11, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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Silhouettes In Moonlight




The soft song of a summer breeze is heard to make the gilded leaves of Autumn sigh. It's been three muted months without a word love lost its wings...and can no longer fly. Illusion forms silhouettes in moonlight and on a passing cloud there floats a dream. Haunted by a long lost love, she fears night when such lonely feelings warrant a scream. She remembers the sweet taste of his kiss and the way he left her feeling fulfilled. He swore he'd write each day and never miss and he would only stop, if he were killed. She never questioned why, he’d gone to war he believed freedom, was worth dying for. (Sonnet) Sept. 1, 2018 One In Five II Poetry Contest Joseph May


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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Dance To Her Tune



I don’t see the sun shine much any more its diminished light’s all but gone away. For charcoal clouds bring Autumn rains...that pour and send all the children inside to play. Fall’s pretentious colors fast fade from sight until nothing remains, their beauty brief. And as days relinquish their length to night the trees stand naked, not a single leaf. All of the wild geese have migrated south along with most of our precious song birds. And lately I've been told by word of mouth the same thing's happened to the reindeer herds. These signs foretell Winter will arrive soon and we'll have to learn to dance to her tune. (Sonnet) Aug. 3, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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A Match In The Dark



All is black and you cry as darkness overwhelms you cringing all alone in the dark, helpless confused and frightened. Do not weep I'm your friend let me strike a match and set your doubts and fears free while we share its light. (Yalto) Nov. 2, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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The Color Of My Heart



Sketch the sunset leaving today behind sinking in the footsteps of yesterday. And feel the ripple of all life combined empty your thoughts, take all but love away. Emblazon upon your mind, blue of sky gilded by the golden hue of sunrise. And capture a shooting star zipping by watching its beauty materialize. Blend the yellow of a buttercup's glow with the flickering flash of firefly lights. And walk the Earth, yet let no footprint show respecting life by honoring its rights. Mix well, until presumptions fall apart and thus reveal the color of my heart. (Sonnet) Dec. 1, 2018 Colour of my heart Poetry Contest Sponsored by: John Hamilton


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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In Awe With Aurora Borealis

aurora borealis spiritual realm
ethereal water paint leaves me breathless
God’s handiwork, His paintbrush at the helm.
reverent silence,  heavenly caress,

ethereal water paint leaves me breathless
wonderment complete as I crest evergreen hill
Reverent silence, heavenly caress,
Never have I felt a sense of nirvana, this still.

wonderment complete as I crest evergreen hill
sacred awe for this natural dream state paradise
never have I felt a sense of nirvana, this still
God’s glory flows within me, in this moment of ice.

sacred awe for this natural dream state paradise.
God’s handiwork, his paintbrush at the helm.
God’s glory flows within me, in this moment of ice.
aurora borealis spiritual realm


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Writing Is My Therapy

writing is my therapy.
she releases feelings in me nothing else releases
I do not even care if it is poetry, 
it is the feeling i seek,
she is my friend, she cares not what words I use,
she releases my sadness, my madness, and every day badness.
she eliminates my gloomy days,
she excites me, encourages me, and uplifts me
she makes me happy, joyful, she keeps me moving, 
she keeps me wanting to live.
she makes me feel playful, 
she increases my enthusiasm,
she is a compulsion.
I cannot desert her, any more than she can desert me.
we have become one, she and I.
She is my tribe.
She is my advocate.
She has replaced my friends,
because she is my bestie.
writing is my therapy.



Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Latino-Americanos: The Children of an Oscuro Pasado

Baile con migo, hips made from the rhythm of merengés and cumbias, samba, swagger and a pinch of azucar mixed into my backbone. 
My first language was Spanish. 
Learned from sweet stories told by my papi at bedtime. 
My tongue a formation of the stardust of my heritage,
An intertwined galaxy of rolled r’s and the pledge of allegiance.
It was something I would soon forget after I was told it was wrong
Taught a new way to introduce myself “mi nombre es” turned to “my name is” after the girl in my class told me she couldn’t understand me.
So I was taught to reject the language of my family and to be proud to call myself American over Mexican.
Now my Spanish 2 native class seems so god damn foriegn and I can't seem to remember what comes after domingo on my pop quiz.
I would learn to hate my name, much preferring something like Tiffany,
Leaving behind my silent TL and X that sounds like an S because they said it was strange.
When I visit my grandmother all I could do is nod or shake my head,
Because her native language sounds like a tongue twister I can't seem to master.
So she reminds me that the colors in my soul and the rhythm in my bones are blessings and that I come from the Incas, the Mayans, the Aztecs, los Mexicas, who built an empire nunca imaginado.
That we are a children of an oscuro pasado,
A mixture of pain, sadness and oppression, 
But we inherited the strength.
We have inherited the passion.
She reminds me that my name holds the power of the most legendary Aztec princesses who ruled with the grace of the most beautiful flower.
So this is for the women that still name their children in nahuatl and the men who wake up on Sunday mornings to listen to Vicente Fernandez with their fathers,
And families that still pass on recipes of arroz con pollo.  
Because we are the sons and the daughters,
And we hold the stories, 
The journeys of the remembered,
Those who walked through deserts, waded through rivers.
We wear their legacies on our shoulders with pride,
And we do not lose ourselves to broken perceptions,
But rise above with the help of our powerful stories.
Our melodies, our galaxies,
Por que somos Latino-Americanos
And we will not be forgotten


Copyright © Xochitl Morales | Year Posted 2018


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Friends Are The Lights



Friends are the lights that allow you to see personal faults through sympathetic eyes and never flicker should you disagree. Even subjected to the third degree they're never willing to compromise friends are the lights that allow you to see. Offering their friendship and loyalty free they don’t criticize...they revitalize and never flicker should you disagree. They praise your least accomplishment with glee when others are out to trivialize friends are the lights that allow you to see. Caretakers of your heart, they guard the key nurturing the virtues they recognize and never flicker should you disagree. They allow you to be all you can be they even pretend to believe your lies. And never flicker should you disagree friends are the lights...that allow you to see. (Villanelle) June 19, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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The Little Match Girl

She sat huddled in an alleyway, frozen to the bone
Shivering with the clutch of matches that she sold.
She hadn't sold a match, but so longed to go home
To warm her naked feet from cobblestone so cold.

Shivering, with the clutch of matches that she sold,
She lit a match upon the wall to feel its tiny heat
To warm her naked feet from cobblestone so cold,
But in a moment swiftly, it had spent itself complete.

She lit a match upon the wall to feel its tiny heat.
Faintly she saw her grandmother, beautiful as life,
But in a moment swiftly, it had spent itself complete
Escaping from such misery, biting cold and strife

Faintly she saw her grandmother, beautiful as life
She hadn't sold a match, but so longed to go home.
Escaping from such misery, biting cold and strife
She sat huddled in an alleyway -- frozen to the bone.

Posted:  8/23/2016
Revised:  8/1/2018


Copyright © Jesse Rowe | Year Posted 2016


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Society am I pretty yet

5 years old
Pink ribbon, silk ribbon,
Streaming through my tightened hair,
Pigtails, toothless smile
Society am I pretty yet?
10 years old
Ponytails, bobby pins,
Tantrums, thinking life’s not fair,
Chubby thighs, crooked smile
Society am I pretty yet?
13 years old
Straight hair, lip gloss,
Puberty, changes,
Invisible tears, broken smile
Society am I pretty yet?
15 years old
Messy bun, chapped lips,
Longer nights, nothing going right,
Lost mind, fake smile
Society am I pretty yet?
17 years old
Lifeless strands, stained appearance,
Just enough, empty room,
Cracked mirror, recovery
Society am I pretty yet?


Copyright © Crystal Vazquez | Year Posted 2016


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Keep Right on Writing

1   Would you say that you’d like to write better?
2   Keep writing whether book or love letter.
3   Great writers don’t quit, they write quite a lot.
4   If tempted to stop they simply did not
5   The best of the best, I’d even dare say,
6   Wrote not a few that they just threw away.
7   When eyes of blank pages stare up at you
8   “Quitting makes perfect,” has never been true-
9   ly the more that you practice you’ll find
10 forsooth erelong you shall broaden your mind.
11 The pen is a sword of limitless might;
12 If something is wrong, words can make it write.
13 Words are like arrows that target the soul.
14 They twang, zip, then thump when shot with control;
15 Untrained words injure and never strike true.
16 So religiously write, routinely review
17 For words are the lamp, through darkness lighting.
18 So always, forever just keep right on writing.

8.28.18
Contest: A Litany of Poetic Devices
Sponsors Line Gauthier
Literary Devices by line:
1.  rhetorical question
2.  internal rhyme
3. consonance (t)
4. inversion
5. parallelism (and superlative)
6. litote
7. personification
8. antithesis
9. enjambment
10. archaism
11. metonymy and metaphor
12. pun (homonym)
13. simile 
14. onomatopoeia 
15. dissonance (via harsh consonants and uneven vowels)
16. alliteration
17. hyperbaton and metaphor 
18. pleonasm


Copyright © Jesse Rowe | Year Posted 2018


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You are more than what eyes can see

You are not what they think of you,
Your heart doesn't change when your hair gets hue.

You are not the fashion trend you follow,
You are above perceptions which are hollow.

Your bright lipstick is just an accessory,
It shouldn't change due to sarcasm or decree.

Your tone shouldn't overrule your statement,
Your no is denial and your yes is the agreement.

Your smile is mere happiness, not a proposal,
Your stands in an argument are views, they don't make you unfilial.

Your body is a sheath for your soul,
You must never accept judgements for a part or the whole.

For, you are precious and a blessing on the earth,
Nobody can do your job and can ever fill your dearth.


Copyright © Deepika Srivastava | Year Posted 2018


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Gifts Of Nature


Crackling, crunchy leaves, confetti the ground as bare skeleton trees rattle their bones. And gusty winds howl like a soulful hound while kids mope indoors glued to their cellphones. Indistinguishable, they look like clones, acting as enthusiastic as stones. Winter's approach is seen as a bad thing She'll smother everything with snow and ice. And the sweet song birds, will no longer sing they've all flown south, Winter exacts a price. But changing seasons, is like adding spice think of snowflakes, as grains of paradise. The mosquitos have all frozen to death and life’s swathed in a snowy-white duvet. Winter entices us with our own breath, so, enjoy Her, don't see her as a threat. indulge in all the Winter you can get there's much more to life, than the internet. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, are real, gifts of Nature designed to make us feel. (Urban Sonnet) Oct. 20, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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A Perfect Fit




Love's betrayal left a hole in your heart that yesterday's memories cannot fill. And your shame's slowly tearing you apart as the trickling tears continue to spill. Depression traps you in a silken web so numbing, you’re motivated to stay. And yet, anxieties refuse to ebb the moment you lock your feelings away. A promise is worthless when it's broken there is no way you can ever fix it. For trust means more than merely words spoken it’s what shapes hearts into a perfect fit. You'll eventually recuperate but until then, your pain will not abate. (Sonnet) June 25, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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I'm your crazy wand

Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.
Never mind,I am the only place of
my heart away from this heart.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.

Speak or say no,but I will still speak.
I have live for you only how I left you.
In the whole world, i am only wishing you.
Do not ever tell me,you forget me,
I'm not going to listen.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.

Never speak that moon will ever be
separated from the moonlight.
Is anyone ever happy to lose his life?
This is what I want for you,your loved once.
Never mind, I'm the only place of
my heart away from this heart.
Forgetting you I'm not going anywhere now.
How will I stay away from you I'm your crazy wand.



Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018


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Let Love Be Your Candle


When your eyes are open, yet life looks dark and prospects seem slim and your future stark for the innocence of youth lost its spark. ....................Let love be your candle. If the stars fail to pierce ebony skies or the light within your soul ever dies and depressive darkness smothers your cries. ....................Let love be your candle. Should you ever be blinded by the night and be in a desperate need of light to identify what’s wrong from what’s right. ....................Let love be your candle. If you seem lost and feel the need to scream walking through broken fragments of a dream wandering aimlessly from scheme to scheme. ....................Let love be your candle. When your soul enters the valley of death and your lungs finally draw their last breath full of hopelessness, like Lady Macbeth. ....................Let love be your candle. (Rhyme) Sept. 16, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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In The Shadows



I spy you standing in the shadows cast by a flashing neon sign, begging a smoke with your nose dripping as if you're on coke, your pale skin and dyed hair in sharp contrast. And you're being ogled by men you asked for a date, even some hippy type bloke who tries to convince you to take a toke. You didn't recognize me, as I passed. Like a silhouette inked by the darkness you are framed by flashing colored lights and so drunk, three times you had to hurl. The alley holds an aura of starkness and although I know all about your rights I won't leave you here, you're my baby girl! (Italian Sonnet) Aug. 8, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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Greeting People



Where are the golden years, I’ve heard about worry free years, I was hoping were true? When friends call me they almost need to shout and the actors on tv mumble, too. I'm greeting people at a Walmart store what kind of a retirement includes this? Prices are high, I can't afford much more yet, hunger's a pain that's hard to dismiss. I feel let down, there's no pension, no hope I'll continue, till I drop dead at work. What choice do I have, I can barely cope it is either this, or I go berserk. Growing old is a slow way to die, every so often, I breakdown and cry. (Sonnet) Oct. 7, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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My hearts love

My wish is that you are my heart's love.
My happiness is only from your happiness.
More than you and no longer I love someone.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.

I love you,I will go from this world.
As long as i will live sweetheart,I will love you.
My life is all over now,it is only for you.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.

My heart is my pain,you know it.
The thread of my breath's necklace is tangent to you.
Relationship is like this,whose rupture is not approved by 
I will settle for you in my breath.
Without you,I will live a moment now.
I have strong sense of you.
You are my comfort to the eyes.
I have won by seeing you and this is my job now.
No more than you and no one is my wish now.
My wish is that you are my heart's love.


Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018


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net dreams

dreams of rest
that are bequest
good fortunes
on the mile
old english
(the final wish)
a cause for one to smile
for what hath naught
time forgot
all but for the script
stroke of pen
age from then
and now the time of trick
the dreams of when
(that ads do send)
taken with a smile
from times of old
warm or cold
are debt with a smile


Copyright © sand blown | Year Posted 2018


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As Darkness Descends



A spent sun withdraws from a sanguine sky into the ebony blackness of space. And birds roosting in trees, no longer fly as a ghost moon rises...to find its place smiling down on Earth with a friendly face. Chameleon clouds, crimson and cerise graze at the horizon like wooly sheep. And as the last rays of sunlight decrease billions of stars awaken form their sleep while shape shifting shadows stealthily creep. Silhouettes soon merge as darkness descends blurring sharp edges as dusk’s curtain drops. And the chatter of day silently ends while twinkling stars are utilized as props for life's play continues... and never stops. A cricket's chirp announces the next act as nocturnal players scurry to the stage. And as fire flies and moonbeams interact owls and bats exercise their wings backstage and all diurnal actors disengage. (English Quintain) June 22, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018


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Magical Places



Close your eyes and dissolve away the years morph into a fledgling eagle, and fly escaping your inhibitions and fears. Lift yourself off the ground and soar on high, for in the realm of dreams, there's open sky and endless scenarios you can try. Be a whirlwind, or a soft tranquil breeze this enchanted time’s set aside for play, float like a thistle tuft or shake the trees. There is nothing here to stand in your way dance the night away, star in a ballet or cruise down fantasy's superhighway. Go to where all of your wishes come true a place where reality doesn't rule and feel free to be anyone but you. Shuck the shackles of shame and ridicule transform yourself into a brazen fool, your imagination's the perfect tool Sleep's a portal to magical places your memory creates, and then eases. (Urban Sonnet) Sept.21, 2018


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018