Best 12Th Grade Poems | Poetry

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The Best 12Th Grade Poems

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Love is a bond

Love is the confluence of two peoples,
this bond is of two relationships,
one is way and one is the destination.
One of the hearts of both heart beats.
This is the bond of all their births.
Love is the confluence of two peoples,

Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018

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Advice Not From Your Mother

Yes, I say you should seek the absurd,
 the outrageous, 
the deliriously mad.

I implore you to find the happy,
the joyful,
those crazed with perpetual glad.

Spend your time 
with insanely laughing idiots, 
where tomfoolery abounds.

You won’t have time
to resent a day of your life 
with this kind 
of tribe around.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Fast Forward

1st Grade
I hug my teacher EVERY day.

Fast Forward

5th Grade
I think my friend called me a bitch and I'm hurt...and I tell...
6th Grade
I lose all my friends.

Fast Forward

8th Grade 
I can't say a word without being made fun of I stay mute.
9th Grade
I make new friends!
10th Grade
I lose them because they can't accept my best friend.
11th Grade
My best friend goes to a new school.
11th Grade, 12th Grade
I stay made fun of...
I'm embarrassed!
They call me fat!
They call me stupid!
They call me ugly!

Fast Forward

Junior year I study abroad.
I learn about myself.
I learn to love myself. 

Fast Forward
I fall in love.
Not with someone who points out my flaws...
Someone who loves them.

Fast Forward

I am better than those assholes who made me feel like I was nothing!
I have a beautiful, scarred heart.
And to those assholes...
Thank you.
You showed me what love isn't!
You showed me what I don't deserve!
You showed me the ugly side of the world
...and how to find beauty in it.

And here I stand today
knowing that I am beautiful
knowing that I am in love
and knowing that I deserve it!

And I wonder why I didn't know that before.

Rewind when my skinny sister beat me up and called me fat when my obese mother said that I should diet with her because I needed it just as much when my aunt said that I should wear makeup because I would look prettier that moment when I made their comments feel like a reality when I believed every word they said.

Fast Forward

Copyright © Lisa Co | Year Posted 2015

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The old man stands by the aging gate
Long forgotten by the rest of civilization
His great eyes express
his intention, his experiences
To live his life fully

A Child- born from Detroit
Born youngest of a family of seven.
Joined the Navy
To explore abroad
Worked hard
While others dropped out of 12th grade
Wanting more with his life
A gallant path you would say.

After his service
He went ahead and explored
The Countries
The People
The continents
And everything in between
Followed his dream
To explore

Closing his eyes
he savors every moment
Touching the old gate
to his abode
Then he remembers
from one of his great travels

“Don't look back, Look forward”
He smiles
And walks back to his house.

Copyright © Patrick Jang | Year Posted 2016

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Nameless Lad

He last had a pal in the 7th grade,
 They shared a class from the 1st grade.
 And together, for Home Economics,
 they were always late.
 But the seventh grade showed up, in its
 claws it held their un-anticipated fate.

 For death's heartless might had
 snatched away the pal's dear moter,
 The lad watched as he packed the
 boots that both their feet knew.
 Off he went to unknown horizons.
 "I will write", is all he said.
 And so, at the post office,
 the lad became a familiar face.
 "He never forgot me", he convinces
 his lonely self everyday.

 The 12th grade is his current stop.
 He recently acquired a harmless infection-hope.
 So, while he dejectedly kicks innocent pebbles
 in the streets he's quite hopeful that the other lad, his pal,
 will write..........or maybe tweet.

 Word has it, though, that the pal was
 seen somewhere.
 He was wearing a black suit...
 Word has it also that he couldn't make a conversation.
 Instead of his trademark smile,
 solemnity had found a home in his face.
 There he was, stone dead.

 "Maybe, just maybe, he will write",
 thinks the nameless lad as he kicks a
 couple of innocent pebbles while he threads
 on one rugged path towards home.

 And tomorrow he's going to the post office.

Copyright © Cebelihle Mbuyisa | Year Posted 2013

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Though Grey clouds part 2

Though the grey clouds of mist
I can see things I've figured 
This life is mine
I chose my path
I make my bed
 I just  might laugh
The pain is in my head

People on the street
No where to stay 
A women with a husband that beat on her
A 12th grader still in school

Though the grey clouds
There is a sun
That is trying to peak though
But there are clouds that
over ride the sun
Just like the smile
That try to come out on my face 
There are so many grey clouds
blocking the way
Like hurt, pain, broking hearts 
and ect..

Copyright © Martica Hurd | Year Posted 2012

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That's what we do
Not wearing a shoe

Copyright © Team PoetrySoup | Year Posted 2017

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Life:Real or taught

He wakes up,
He brushes his teeth,
Just because it is like that for years,
Not for a mouth neat .

Heads embedded in books,
He mugs up the scraps,
Just rot learning,
No practical mind.

He walks towards success,
Through the thorny struggle paths,
Avoiding the smart smooth route,
Cause thats what he is taught.

A dash of failure,
Makes him cry,
Taunts of folks around,
Refuse him to try.

Already in love,
His heart is retained,
But he cant go ahead,
It spoils the society's name.

He runs behind money,
Working as an ass,
Serving as an slave,
Treated as trash.

He lives the life,
The society wants him to,
His dreams dont matter,
But the madcaps do.

Continues the cycle,
Peddled by the guild,
Not his future,
But the society's he'll build.
                  - Kedar K

Copyright © Kedar kate | Year Posted 2018

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a distant silver afternoon

                              sighed she. extending 
                              limbed memories
                              above bare-faced daring..
                              the sea sips her body
                              held as is in space,  caressing
                              the hidden haunts of woman
                              on yet another day
                              floating content, solitary
                              'bove white horses riding time
                              to a distant silver afternoon ..
                              a path trills the tumbling pebbled shore
                              where upturned timbers -
                              hoarse of caulking care, 
                              creak old sea-salts' ditties,
                              as birds exotic
                              shriek their hunger..
                              secreted would-be lovers
                              smile then quench their thirst..
                              moon blushes its face
                              before casting a voyeur's sleek shadow
                              'pon the She, the He 
                              bathed in light..  

Copyright © emma green | Year Posted 2016

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ABC Language

Playing mind games
with my mind.
Wet puzzles glued
with Frankenstein's
Rustled paper.
Kindergarten hands.
Round crisp newspaper
faces that look familiar
to me.
Painted bowls.
Rose's stems.
12th grade rulers.

Now I long for
those school year

Plastic glue carved
around the art teacher's
head a masterpiece.
Erasers for our tongue
and we learned how to
speak ABC language.

Copyright © Misty Lackey | Year Posted 2006

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As I am lying down in bed alone
my spiritless body rolls in bed and 
once again I reach out to my smartphone 
I click an app and see someone blond. 

On busy schedule, I always 
check Instagram on a daily basis. 
And I always see your face every day 
Your posts fantasizes like an oasis.

I wonder if you look at my pictures 
and hesitate on liking my photos
I wonder if you see me in features 
My heart broke down when I changed my bio 

I'm always drowning in a square ocean.
In your Instagram with emotion.

Copyright © Golden Closet | Year Posted 2018

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Today, I stand at candor’s peak

And yet, they all still look down on me

A prosecution of the persecuted, shall I witness

As Damocles’s sword hangs over my head

Today, I looked at the man who decides my fate

The courtroom’s god commenced the Judgement Day

“Do you plead guilty to murder?” He asks me now

I say I do without a shadow of doubt

Today, the toxic air of hypocrisy choked my conscience

The court was filled with a deafening silence

All of them knew, yet none of them could say

How the murderer of today was a victim of yesterday

Yesterday, the girl walked along a lonely street

It was after six, the sky was dark the skirt was slightly above knee

She walked along the lonely road,not a soul insight

But she heard the monster following her, with hunger in his eyes

She panicked, she ran but it was a futile chase

For when the moment was right the predator pounced and devoured his prey

She tried to run, she tried to fight

To the depths of terror her heart had sunk

But the girl was too weak for the hungry swine

And so she ended up a rag doll for the dirty drunk

Yesterday,  the girl cried back home

The family was aghast on seeing her bloodstained clothes

They cried not for the pain, but for her lost virtue

For now they had to find her a secondhand groom

When she went to the court, they said it was her mistake

No one lighted candles for her at the India Gate

The rape was the headline of one day, history the next

An outrage on social media but no one bothered to check,

How her case was thrown out the door for it was her mistake

The skirt was disgustingly above knee, she shouldn’t have been out late

Yesterday, the girl realised she was all alone

She hunted for the predator,to liberate her soul

She walked along that lonely road, for she knew where he had been

The prey turned the predator , she doused him in gasoline

She lit a burning match and let the fire calm her fears

For the monster’s screams were melodies to her ears

Today, I told my story , now they listen to me

As i watch the tables turn, i mock the irony

The god looks at me with stern eyes, he asks “Do you repent?”

I gave my answer, they gave their verdict- it was a death sentence

Tomorrow, i walk to prison as a free woman.

The blatant irony makes me laugh.

Everyone knows why, but they dare not ask

For as Im charged with manslaughter, apparently justice is restored

But where was this justice when the monster butchered my soul?

Copyright © Vaishnavi nandakumar | Year Posted 2018

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Across a field
to stand and feel
Earth's early breathe to rise
A silky fog amidst the dew
that mirrors there the light
in every gathered golden drop
that clings to blades of grass

Where the Earth doest meet the sky
and make of things continuous
to the naked eye

At play as if an end could be
a point where 
the Earth and sky 
and I could meet

But there I stand
Still, in motion
and feel the heart
within me beat
the morning dew
the soft spring grass
the Sun's transit warmth
and Earth's waking breathe
on the skin, and my bare feet

I stand
Still, in motion
where the Earth and sky
Doest meet -

Copyright © abel olivencia | Year Posted 2018

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Pride or love

A girl whose beauty springs from her heart-,
her image in the album of my mind-
is like a golden waxing moon
exhaling torrent of light into a river,
but she in her real self is my love,
this is us in the planet of joy.
We shared poems to share joy,
but hers clinged to my heart.
with a promise of an eternal love,
which her words inscribed in my mind,
like the golden tears pouring into the river,
from the meek eyes of the moon.
We once sat under the moon,
with the golden light wetting us with joy.
You talked and poured an endless river-
of bliss and tranquility into my heart,
you have cleared the field of my mind-
and planted roses of love.
But now that I am for you, oh love-
why have you erased my pride? like the moon
that vanish at the birth of the sun. My mind
used to caress pride with joy-
but now that love is in my heart
I have lost my pride's river.
You spat into me like a dirty river-
because I am now enslaved by love
which govern the realm of my heart,
like over the night does the moon,
but I will enjoy the slavery with joy
and erase every pride from my mind.
It took me a while to cast away my mind
from pride's river,
although it seem like I was loosing my joy-
but much joy I now will receive from love,
So let me write a poem to you under the moon,
to tell you that love is better than pride in my heart.
My heart wont hold pride and love-
so let me accept love for it is a moon in the river
of my mind. oh my dear, be my joy.

Copyright © Ibrahim Clouds | Year Posted 2018

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My Jiggling boobs

since maintaining a diet 
of exercise heeding "yo dude" 
(you look like a lady)
the inner fitness maven against 
the temptation of high caloric junk food 

and nightly snack king 
on a flexible fitness routine, 
this LIX aged body electric feels good
these myopic eyes and 

well-calibrated hands measure less dense hood- 
winking bosom, that if I feigned being 
a "bared naked lady" - 
as per this chest lewd

city in reference to "man boobs" 
that seemed to materialize overnight 
now appear to decrease as well 
that unwanted "love handle, 

this chap more inclined 
tubby in a greater mood 
to parade around 
this noncrowded house shirtless 
AND definitely NOT in public, 
BUT no weigh Jose 
would this generic guy go completely nude
cuz being self-consciousness of my physique 
might prompt outsiders 

to consider me a prude
and even during closed bedroom door 
sexual exploits deter me tibia rude
fellow (with average go daddy long legs) 
and my dangling dipstick smallish 
(concluding biology screwed)
a chap worthy tube he more endowed,

though gratitude proffered
to same divine cosmic consciousness
but as the year's pile up appreciation 
of functional faculties alter matts' at tee 'tude
accepting physical characteristics 
more or less static 
hoe ping belive mass elf ya wood.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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A Civil Soldiers Tale

"Lie still now, soldier", the Union General said,
As he knelt down beside the boy’s bloody, wounded head.
The dying young lad, no more than fifteen, if a day,
Wore the blight of cannon, and being in its way.

The General swallowed hard, to fight back the pressing tears, 
Before he gazed upon his soldier, now less limbs and gear.
"Is it b-bad?" the soldier asked, in a voice filled with fear. 
"Not at all,” the General lied, knowing the boy had not a prayer.

"You’ll soon be headin’ home," he continued in a whisper.
"Back to your mammy and your pappy, and your favorite dog, Kipper."
The soldier forced a smile and then closed his swollen eyes,
"Why Sir, I think I see them! Looks like ma baked me two pies."

The General shuddered knowing, the lad's folks died years ago,
And the dog named Kipper-- killed in an avalanche of snow.
He only knew these things, since he had taken the boy in,
As this dying soldier's father had been the General’s next of kin.

"This bloodshed has to stop" the General groaned and shook his head,
"Did our boys grow up together just to shoot each other dead?"
"Must be something I can do!" he shouted, rising to his feet,
To be silenced by a bullet as it grazed across his cheek.

The soldier took a breath, his head fell back- eyes open wide.
The General took his sword and laid it by the boy’s side.
"Go now, son," he said, "back to those you love,"
"And give them my regards; in fact give your pa a shove."

Sudden, in the distance, he heard another soldier’s cry,
"The South just surrendered as stated by a Union spy!”
The General stood up slowly and brushed off his dusty knees,
Wiped away a single tear, returning to his company.

Copyright 2006/Shirley Petrandis

Copyright © Shirley Petrandis | Year Posted 2018

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Healing Of Music

Healing From Music

Dim so dim was the light that lead the way
Not a reflection but a shadow of what was;
Feeling resonating vibrations I may,
Because music can heal I know it does.

The melody drives the pain and darkness
To another place that it can exist;
Now is the time I reflect on my life,
As a smoke screen people can't resist.

Unforgettable moments makes us all
Realize all of the healing that works;
With music universally loved,
It will surely release your inner self.

Copyright © Nick Nguyen | Year Posted 2018

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Think Spring

Now, unlike my usually trenchant literary librettos, i regale the unknown (tum me) reader for savoir faire articulation, elocution, and indomitable tour de force proffered by spectrum of bounteous expropriated hegemony rightful to Mother Nature. 
A Place Revisited Within The Mind
(an illusory escape during dead of winter).
The shafts of a golden veil, spring sun at noon
break through the heavily coated
overgrowth of leafy foliage
and cause shadows spar upon forest floor.

In a field of wild
a mosaic of crystalline color
from prismatic play of sunshine
upon the silently talking heads
of the swaying stalks.

the scintillating and sparkling rays
in unison with the weft
(and warp across an invisible loom)
weaves a delicious tasting warm breeze,

(which sways the boughs of treetops to and fro,
akin to an unseen baby being cradled)
brings a ladled spate of cool freshness
from the map-cap world (webbed wide)
of a manmade existence.

The grandeur of the fallow spring meadow
a pageant of exquisite dignity
by the graceful movements
from the un-choreographed fall and rise
of the unplowed acres

eyes orbit, ear re: Canal,
and twitching nostrils of sensate beings
to the mellifluous sounds
and sweet smelling aromas
that gently teasingly assault the senses
beguiling the sight,

and lulling ears into a transcendent state.
A buoyant airy tonal plume
rises into the surrounding heights
touches the breadth of cerulean sky
and scythe lent lee gently tumbles back down
like a merry widow waltzing flowery water fall.

In quiet circumspection 
the antics sans plethora of buzzfeed ding
busily buzzing foraging insects,
which contentedly hum and alight nearby

flitting to and fro
oblivious to plaudits encore
harmoniously thriving 
within the living laboratory

of Mother Nature,
sans, Insects or Insecta are by far
count as the largest group of
hexapod invertebrates
within the arthropod phylum,

where simultaneously
underneath the earthen surface
the ground tis abustle with
glorious heart throb

of one micro universe
comprising architects, builders and weavers
engage in all manner
of natural devices for a livelihood.

This brilliant splendor tantamount
to top notch operatic performance,
a sensational visual and audiological feast
hypnotizing one humble human (me)
into an inebriated state of bliss.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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My Self-Communing Silence

Relate to me with not one word of sorrow,
As from some timeless lay,
Regale me with a numinous poetic theme
That shall take me faraway!
O’ forespeak to me no form of darkness,
That may lie beyond my sight,
Nor utter thus to me of life’s nearing end
To time’s everlasting flight!

Address me not with one fallacious word,
Nor vocals of dispute,
Reply to me only with the purist of truth
That no one can refute!
O’ thus retell to me from the ethereal verse,
As God I then may hear,
For I wish only the sacred prose of Heaven
To fall upon my ear!

Speak to me no despairing words of sorrow,
Nor one single utterance of pain!
I beseech ye!
Sound gently now, upon this burdened soul,
As the drops of summer rain!
O’ or leave me to my self-communing silence,
Lest all madness be unfurled,
For it is difficult to hear the muse of harmony
Through the discordance of this world!

Copyright © Robert Liam McCallum | Year Posted 2018

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never trust, trust, rather your heart

When you lay your trust on people 
There's never a guarantee of peace 
In ur heart 
When you Relay on the fact that you know them
You'll always be disappointed 
Never try to discover  their insight  or  love from their hearts
Where it is impossible to be found
Dangerous love 
Is you forcing 
Yourself in other people's heart
You just have to live your life 

And let things happen out of your control 
If you always want to be involved 
In your life you are inviting opinions
Get them until
You run out choice 
Then you start doing things with
That is not exerted though 
But you created it

When it acts 
You will think it's conscientious.
But no live your life 
To satisfy god and yourself 
And stop being concerned 
In your life you will see progress 

It's wise to be quite 
Even though to others it's natural 
To be a man of few words 
It allows wisdom and knowledge 
To settle in your brain 
Sometimes it takes motivation 
To attain that 
And sadness sometimes from disappointment

It's takes failure 
Or tears sometimes to reach that level 
Because sober so 
It's difficult 
To talk less than you know 
If there's some one who inspires
You to be like that know 
It's a chance 
Grasp it 
Find a reason to have it 
Make it a habit 

It will move you out of people and world 
And introduce you to yourself 
And make your life be your concern 
You will stay away from disappointment

Plz don't only listen to enjoy the sound
Of words made by this poem 
Pay attention to it's content 

Suicide in most time's 
It's because is love 
It doesn't hv to be for someone
Love for something 
Others kill themselves 
For things 
Others for deserted trust 
It's true trust comes from
Love comes from heart

If someone does something to trust 
He or she  Destroys life 
Because that rough touch
Can shake your world 
Causing thoughtsquake 
You become scared 
Until you don't think straight 
In your life see end 
Until death 
Pulls u over 

Better give your life to God 
To be saved from that 
Your trust lay it to God 
If you want to love too much love him

Copyright © Anathi Nompondo | Year Posted 2018

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There Is A New Star Up In Heaven Tonight

Up in the firmaments where there hang great bodies, 
contending for the space of glory and power, 
undoing each other as the times of the days would allow, 
They didn't pay heed to a new star that had appeared.. 
The earthlings didn't notice it either. 
When the golden lamp of the day was spent, 
and the great kings and queens  took their places in their might, 
The heavens lighted with an unusual glow
and 'twas not  even from the full moon
In a moment the heavens gasped with the words of delight 
"there is a new star in heaven tonight"
She had climbed up slowly and found her place 
Mankind has lost another one of her own 
An angel among men, now hangs in the sky 
In  the light of the day they didn't see her shine. 
She was just like any other person.. 
Now that her departure has cast a dark gloom all over, 
Her light now shines in revelation to all that behold her
Even in her death, she she still casts light in our dark..

Copyright © Frank Bansah | Year Posted 2018

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'Tis The Gift To Be Simple

The Valley Of Love And Delight':

An anniversary feting mine birth (date),
a plan we almost didst ditch
nonetheless the general game plan 
soared like an Eagle,
and went off swimmingly (into a dive)
hence we chose Wegman's with doll finned porpoise
minus a sue per stevedore tailored hitch

cuz the China Jade restaurant
near Collegeville Redner's
nearly felt cold as ice dining niche
as if we accidentally 
got highjacked to Siberia
where heat took precedence

verses restaurateur eatery reputable pitch
thus despite praise worthy Yelp reviewers,
whether they be named Poe or Rich
hard, earning their keep whose fingers

hut till lee diploid across 
warp and weft to stitch
together disparate threads
weaving a webbed whirled Magnum Opus
where thoughts analogous

to this aspiring paperback writer exerts,
(whose muscles twitch)
in an attempt for phalanges
tortured as going every which

way with to craft a non ode us paean
from deep within thy bowel
applying me magical diving rod –
essentially a computerized dowel

which makes a dinging sound,
or emitting an odor most fetid and fowl
unintentionally inducing creatures
large and small to howl
at the abominable cursing and swearing
using languages that lack a vowel

sound - clouding ability to communicate
to remain steadfast 
with intent thwarted by (third eye blind)
minor detour of fate

three doors down and celebrate modestly, 
NEVER thought to "FAKE" 
forgo wing NOR deferring
time to be spent with 
a gluten and MSG free 

NON GMO endearing sibling
NO whey iz she dee snide dour twisted sister
hood moost likely become irate
invested in marriage to a loving mate.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018

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her eyes

her eyes lost in the stars we found her where we are she danced on moonbeams we fell in her darkened skies our heart is impaled lost in her eyes ? ... .. .

Copyright © wool man | Year Posted 2018

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The Gift

When I was a young child, you were an old gray headed man that shuffled along slowly, aided by a cane. You never could move fast enough for me, and although I tried to hurry you, you would not be rushed. I looked forward to things like going to kindergarten, summer vacations and the holidays that never seemed like they would come soon enough. As I got older, I looked forward to graduating 8th grade, graduating high school, graduating college and finally getting married, but I was always waiting on you, for you were ever with me. Things just had to be done at your pace.

An amazing transformation happened to you after I got married. Suddenly you were much younger, and it seemed you and I were moving together at an almost equal speed. Now we were getting somewhere! We seemed to be in sync until I had my first child, at which point another alteration took place in you. You became even younger and seemed to have the energy of a teenager, while at the same time, I noticed that I was getting older.  I was enjoying being a mother.  There were days I just wanted to marinate in the experience, but you with your boundless energy kept pushing me forward. Before I even realized what was happening, my children were graduating from high school and growing up. Oh, you rambunctious youth! You just wouldn’t stop and rest even for a minute.

Then one day, I had an epiphany concerning you. In all honesty, you had been the same all along and had never changed. The only thing that had changed was my perception of who you are. You have been God’s faithful servant throughout the ages, and I am learning to cherish you more each day.  I will do my best not to try and hurry you or slow you down or squander you, but with God’s help, I will let you run your course. You are precious to me, Time!


Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2018

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Total Time I Spent In Dental Chair Post Adolescence To Present Age second appointment

some agents provocateur didst maim
self-acceptance, and (found thyself 
as a boyish twenty something
weathering onset of gum recession, 
maxillofacial surgery, impressions, 
xrays galore, scaling) 

necessitated (score years later) urgent intervention 
i.e. treatment plan under auspices 
re storied name
University of Pennsylvania 
Dental School to mitigate malady 

entailed every last tooth plucked with ease 
since no other recourse could tame
accompanying jaw bone loss, 
which destabilized rootless choppers,
and despite the state of the mind turning to pulp 
(this haint no “fiction, nor FAKE)

thus I acknowledge sincere gratitude thru poetic aire
for the entire fleet of dental students, 
and staff that didst care,
who assuaged distress, exceeding the best expertise flair

which eventually warranted being fitted for dentures here
bringing an exemplary end result 
encompassing yours truly writing in his lair
after about a dozen years encompassing 

so many wing (bitten) angels far and near
across webbed wide world to help repair
chronic distress minimized now, cuz there
prevailed the most blessed delight 
when Medicare picked up the tab
now smile more willingly with artificial dental wear.

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018