Best 12Th Grade Poems | Poetry

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The Best 12Th Grade Poems

Details | 12Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

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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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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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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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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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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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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Dani a Charming CVS Pharmacist

within Zieglerville, pennsylvania

genuine snow white hair 
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private) 
after i croon (to said lass), 

the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission 
perchance twill be doomed from the start, 
and hence finding me forlorn 
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure, 

would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold 
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness), 

aye also resort to buttress 
any aural "stormy Dani yelling) 
via walled in interlap, 
which accouterment functions 
as a double agent i.e. (or, 

to be rather crude), 
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news 
inducing madcap

mass media circus 
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap 
essentially providing wig gull room 
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap 

pill low ma rendered free and clear 
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi 
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms 

most likely something internuclear 
simply to discover visa vis authenticity 
if cute employee 
(sporting hair 

white as the virgin snow), 
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses 
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited 

all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because 
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.



Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018


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DONALD TRUMP RE DUCKS I GOOSE

Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
   of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous arse
   Sunkist in Macy's window 

   then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
   for his hide leaving  
   proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.

Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
   while kissing thing kith

   darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed 
   expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
   news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)

inducing said personality
   to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously 
   maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously 

   incriminating, hellaciously, 
   desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss 
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election 
   toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
   arrogant simian with sass.

I van (terribly hard pressed) 
   to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
   gnashing false teeth 
   Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination 
   (pa hill a reed) as sham –

from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
   crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
   sans presidential outcome a shame 
bullying with his millions beds this,

that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool 
   birthing more Quakers
   and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade

and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
   phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash

for his kitty, as if that cachet 
   to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
   like "Stormy Dan" yells

   leering oafish ill pout 
   while hair rum 
   (of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock 
   of bronzed sea gulls mocks

heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.


Copyright © matthew harris | 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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I Instantly Disliked Her

I instantly disliked her.
I don’t know if it was her 
Height or her red hair or
Her loudness,

But I immediately
Thought we can never
Be friends. But then 
She sat with me at lunch
And I had never laughed so
Hard in my entire life.

Ever

So we became friends
And I have never told
Her that my instant
Impression was that
We could never
Be friends

Why would I
Hurt my
Best friend
Like that?




Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Sometimes

Sometimes it feels like I'm floating on air
Sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is on my chest 
Sometimes my mind is a blank canvas 
Sometimes It's full of thoughts 
Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by darkness
Sometimes I feel showered by light
Sometimes my future seems bright 
Sometimes it feels like I have no future at all
Sometimes I hurt myself
Sometimes I hurt others 
Sometimes I feel like I'm in love 
Sometimes I feel like I'm not loved at all 
Sometimes I feel important 
Sometimes I feel like I wont be remembered 
Sometimes I value my life 
Sometimes I think my life doesnt matter 
Sometimes I feel like I'm happy 
Sometimes I feel like I'm in a ball of depression 


Copyright © Dakota Cooper | Year Posted 2018


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Bong Bitty Bong Bitty Bong Bitty Bay

Bong bitty bong bitty bong bitty bay
You are the bottom thought for me every day.

Hong hitty hong hitty hong hitty hay
I am the top dog, and I simply don’t play.

Zong zitty zong zitty zong zitty zay
You’re a spectacular example of dirt within hay

Mong mitty mong mitty mong mitty may
If I know you’re going to be there, I’ll just stay away

Dong ditty dong ditty dong ditty day
Our friends no longer like you. They’ll hold you at bay.

Fong fitty fong fitty fong fitty fay
I won all of them in the divorce, so please go away, Ray.

Submitted to Nick Trim’s 8 Mile High Contest
June 19, 2018


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Passion

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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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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Why love me with a betrayal

Why love me with a betrayal?
Immature was just me,who believed to be?
But his promises were false and
all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?

I lost heart too,at the time of doing it.
But the thousand pieces of my heart made it.
Because his promises were false and
all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?

What will she do to heart?
What will she recognize in love?
No one who loves her heart.
She is unfaithful.
She does not love.

Why love me with a betrayal?
Immature was just me, who believed to be?
But his promises were false
and all his lies were his love.
Why love me with a betrayal?


Copyright © Kishan sharma | Year Posted 2018


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Instagram

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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Fruits of karma

sown acacia seeds
no one can hope to reap  
apple fruits

do your duty
it would fetch some day for sure  
sweet fruits of karma


Copyright © S.D. Tiwari | Year Posted 2015


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Hi I say Brightly

It is a gorgeous spring day, there are greens on both sides of the road.
The smells are fantastic, and my hair is blowing like I’m on a cycle.
I’m  actually driving my new purple trans am, windows down, music blaring.
The white racing stripes might have been a bit much, but 
Not for me.  The sun is beaming on us with magic happy.

BRRRR  BRRRR GRRRR  
Should I try to outrun him?
He’s gaining on me fast.  I glance at speedometer.  Swear.
82 m.p.h. This is what happens when I listen to the Oldies.

I pull off, waiting, heart beating fast.
Lanky patrolman pulls himself out of car, gets younger as he gets closer.
“Hi,” I say, brightly.
He says, “License and registration, Ma’am.”

He is carrying his ticket pad, and a pen.
My hands are shaking as I start stammering nonsense.
He studies my license a second, says, “Just a minute, Ma’am,”
Walks back to his car, slides in, sits down, spends an hour or two in there.
I get worried I might have accidentally handed him my big-limit Visa card.

My heart is thudding, as I watch him laboriously walk back to my Trans Am
Who is not feeling so fine and foxy now. “It’s your fault!” I tell her. “You did this!”
“You were going 81,” he tells me. Eighty-two, I wisely don’t say.
“I am giving you an opportunity to slow down, and today, I’m giving you a warning,” he says.
No smile. No expression. He could give a mannequin a lesson in subtle.

I cannot help it. “Why?” 
A glimmer of an ant’s smile starts in the left corner of his mouth, for a second, but he quickly snaps it off.
“Here’s the deal, Ma’am,” he tells me.  “I stopped this car yesterday, on this same curve.  I wouldn’t feel right  about  giving you a ticket on the same corner, at the same speed after letting your 17-year-old daughter off with a warning.”
In my head I picture my adorable blonde daughter who was wearing white hot-pants yesterday.
As a last hurrah he says, “I’m going to be out here for another two hours, Ma’am.”
We both smile.
This is the best warning I’ve ever had!



Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | 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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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 Princess

When I grow up, will I still be princess?

Of course, says glowing daddy. 
 
A roll of the queen’s eyes.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Painting

Painting.
Imagination Blast.
Joy Personified on Canvas
In Touch With My Soul.
Painting.

Painting.
Angels Surround.
Guides Jump for Joy.
Completes my Heart Strings.
Painting

Painting.
Enthusiasm Abounds.
Ancestors Smile From Heaven
Makes my Soul Sing.
Painting.

Painting.
Whimsical, Fun.
My True Life Path.
Helps Me Keep My Sanity.
Painting.



Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Testing

Testing
That's what we do
Not wearing a shoe


Copyright © Team PoetrySoup | Year Posted 2017