Best 7Th Grade Poems | Poetry

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7th Grade Memories by Robinson, Arianna
7th grade by Zhang, Ting
Alone in my Pain by Anthony Figueroa 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Intoxication by Celine Figueroa 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Seeking Hope by Alexandros Carellas 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Reprehensible by Garrett Murtagh 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
My Best by Juan Torres 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Influence by Christian Cepeda 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Fear of the Unknown by Johanny Espinal 7th grade by Munich, Lynette
Hope by Allen Argueta 7th grade by Munich, Lynette

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The Best 7Th Grade Poems

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Birds eye self surveillance

Theres a man in the sky, can you see him hiding, crouching behind the grey mist rising. 
Thunder and lightning seems to guide him to reach that height when he needs some time in the skies to hide him from deeply diving down in abyss with the criminal minded, 
Around town thinking his fates decided, 
One time to try and escape is worth trying. 
Break these chains that he's been confined in.
Deep blue sirens penetrating silence. 
Skies are private and safe to lye in, the place between land and space divided.
Like sea side beaches thats seemed inviting then beached and breach by fleets of Vikings. 
I need some time away from these pirates. 
Pilot my own plane off of this island. 

The man in the sky where the sun is shining. 
Every cloud has a silver lining 
Looks down to earth where the buildings blind him. 
He closes his eyes and hopes for sight again. 
Then a bright light flash dilates his irises. 
Opens his mind his ideas ignited with fuel for the fires of the world's environment. 
He looks for the best in people entirely and feels stomach acid burning deep inside his ribs. 
Hybrids living off the cheaper cider with red dots for a sniper shot. 
Rifling through timeless lots, got police men tying these wired knots tighter. 
The cirlces tightening, ducking and diving, that life was tiring. 
The ground force fighting, cross firing. 
Suicidal minds and types who keep trying. 
Friends keep dying and fools keep lying, lining their pockets with tools and your diamonds. 
Thats why I left that life behind climbing the steps and headed for the skies for some quiet time. 
Titan the Pisces I'm buying time for this man in the sky, three flats high. 
He left his life behind but didn't die. 
Just moved on finally finding his feet now his appetites ideally gaining weight from more to eat. 
Bored of walking the streets so he's flying the sky line striking like lightening bolts on dark nights. 
Past paying for his crimes from a past life. 
Its a hard knock life we all cry. 
We all pay a price but we gotta survive. 
Lets high five. 
Listen and follow good advice.  
Its wise. 
Its all life.
Swallow pieces of pie, fly and get by, flee or fight,  look to the sky and take flight for a birds eyes surveillance. 
It's all solar from the lows to the highs. 
Strong minded. 
One time confined in sun shine to unwind. 
Thug life sometimes just right and stuck like bee honey. 
And life's as funny as Nick Trims old skool vs mumble rap like P Money. 





Copyright © Sam Perkins | Year Posted 2018


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Gathering Dust

                                                                                 * 
It happened in a moment, during my 7th grade English class   *
As we studied classic literature; “Evangeline”,  the poem
A substitute teacher, wearing shoes of polished coal             *
His soft style, hair neatly combed, engrossed in reading poetry…
Pubescence slumped around me, nodding off, slowly being lulled...
Young minds. filled with clutter, gathering dust, from ancient stories

With glittering eyes, he read each verse                 *    *
The soft, eager voice, that stroked each word…
He would wait, on occasion, to look around the room  *
With wistful hope, I would suppose, to reach one heart, one soul

At the start of the class, I had been watching the clock
But, as I sat more enraptured, time just seemed to stop…
I turned the pages, one by one …and slowly fell in love

The beauty of old words, drifted through the stuffy air
Like the gathering of dust motes, glittered, hanging in suspension
Filtered in the angled light, of the afternoon’s warm detention
Sun filtered through window glass,…while voice of bliss droned on…. 

My heartbeat sped, with growing passion
I restrained my hands from reaching,… grabbing                 *
To catch each word, and keep them captive…
Dust motes, and words, were spinning around                             *
I was head over heels…for my substitute teacher…
I was head over heels for an old man named Longfellow….
Thirteen years old, I loved two older men….

Fell in love with the classics,....on a mid-day afternoon
                  While gathering dust, and the magic of words




……………………………………….
For the Contest: "Gathering Dust"
Sponsored by John Lawless


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011


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A letter

I wrote you a letter, 
and then another letter,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a word. 

So I wrote you a word,
and then another word, 
and another, and another, 
until I wrote you a sentence. 

So I wrote you a sentence, 
and then another sentence, 
and another, and another, 
until I wrote you a letter. 

I hope it finds you as I found you. 

Yours truly, 
Yours, truly.


Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018


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At 13 Only Feeling Shame

At 13 Only Feeling Shame

At 13 a child,her innocence by two taken
Teenage years should,have had  been fun
Instead, begining to the end , life forsaken
And her first year,away she tried to run

At 13,as an adult she was forced to become
When she first learned,to how hide her shame
While away from herself, she wanted to run
Away from sorrow,away from the blame

At 13,was an important lifetime  milestone
A year as a teen, memories were to be pure
Other's faults, she would claimed as her own
Missing her youth, she could never recapture

At 13 feelings felt, no one ever  should
Shame,insecure,impure,blame,grief 
Told she was the devils daughter, no good
To mold a young mind,it became her belief

Man's pleasure her reasoning, to be on earth
So many secrets, all she forever had to keep
One more thing, to tally up as her true worth
Never once to speak on it ,not one peep

Internalizing it all, keeping all to herself
Innocent child,backed up against a wall
Fear,unloved,loathing added to feelings wealth
Trusting none,just wanting to end it all

One year at 13, longest in life to ever live
A day felt a week,a week a month ,a minute an hour
A year felt like, her life she would  give
Yet at 13, she learned survival was her power

All of this in just one year!
At 13 her first teenage year!


Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018


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My Girl

Secretly, I watch the neighbors, 
From my well-advantaged location.
Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S.
No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's.
They full-body laugh, tongues out.
Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again; 
I can hear Mrs. P. cussing.
At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor.
My girl is running toward me, flat out.
She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket.
There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs.
Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink
and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce.
After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down, 
and begins to read.
I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf.
She's ten, the perfect age to devour.
Every day is the same except Saturday.
On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me,
reading two to three books at a time.
It is our favorite day.
Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play,
but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws.
We are so in tune, she and I.
When I hear "CANDICE MILLIE STREET COME IN IMMEDIATELY!"
I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house, 
leaving me alone, 
to spy on the neighbors.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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The empty words

 Desperate.. how can you be with someone and not love them. Desperate.. your heart is empty. Are you lonely? Desperate.. is it true? A shallow word? An empty meaning? Desperate..Desperate..Desperate, is it a rumor, the spread of words that ruin lifes. Am i invisable? I'm here. Standing in front of you. Maybe my glasses are blocking your view. I can change.. I'm not desperate. I'm in love, but then again what is love? An empty word. An empty meaning.. A rumor? 

a poem by LeannW.Brown 



Copyright © Stephanie Ward | Year Posted 2018


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What am I

No one has seen me,
They have looked. 
So long I've waited,
So long I've hooked,
A piece of my soul,
To drops of loneliness;
A piece of my soul,
To lines of deadlines.

The rain is falling,
Water drowns the room.
The sky has waited,
For our certain doom.
To bring us down,
And clean the world,
Of those who were worth this,
And those who weren't.

I am stuck inside my mind,
No one around, I'm left behind.
Left in the dark, being consumed,
Of what is gone, of what is blue.

No one has seen me,
They have looked,
So long I've held on,
So long I've hooked,
A piece of me,
For what I atone,
So what I really am,
Is I'm alone.


Copyright © Amily Watson | Year Posted 2018


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Here in the Night

Here in the Night the animals are running.
The wind is howling at the moon, urging theses creatures on.
They’ve been running for hours they don’t have a sense of it. 
Cause what they’ve been through has stripped them from their feeling of identity. 
Running as one. Dying as one. 
The snow beneath their feet mocking them with it’s stillness. 
Here in the night they are trampling each other.
If one cannot keep up they die. Simple. 
Whether they are shot or trampled.  
Trying not to think, just running for freedom. 
Easier said than done. 
These “filthy dogs” are dropping like flies. 
Thinking of all they have endured made them to go on.
Being controlled by a bell.
Being beaten to death.
Seeing loved one’s beaten to death. 
Being given rations of food, barely enough to survive.  
All give them the strength to persist. 
Here in the night these bodies are lying in snow not even caring.
Demoralized, weak, and contemplating whether or not to die.
Here in the darkness of night it is now April 11th. 
They realized that they are to be saved. 
They cared not of family or revenge.
Their only care was to rid themselves of this form they had taken and to gain strength with a piece of bread. 
The night has changed these specimens. 
The night has changed others. 
The night has changed me. 
The denouement of there journey was that a miracle had allowed them to survive.
These animals.
These “filthy dogs”
These specimens. 
These humans.


Copyright © Daphne Edwards | Year Posted 2018


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My Bio Poem from Caren

Caren
Creative, Empathetic, Respectful, Helpful
Wife of Joe, mother of Angela, Tracy, and Susie, 
Mother-in-law of Josh and Andy,
Grandma of Emily, Cali, Molly, Tony, Jack, Josie, Lucy, Daisy, Max and Johnny.
Lover of children, dogs, and family.
Who feels joy, excitement, and amused.
Who needs people, work, and love.
Who gives happiness, soft words, and tender touches.
Who fears violence, anger, and rage.
Who would like to see the world assimilate as one.
Resident of Kansas
Krutsinger



Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Land of Dreams

Land of Dreams 
Candy-colored beams 
Tree streams of Yellow Lemon Dew Drops

Red, Green and Blue Gumballs Cars

The path to Rainbow City covered with Peppermint Boat Docks

Sugar Cane Boats floating thru a Chocolate covered River

All sorts of Colored Coded Candy, that is sure to please

A little boy and little girls wish would sure to have a Candy Land Adventure in the 
Land of Dreams


Copyright © Migdalia Torres | Year Posted 2018


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Thwarting the Bullies

Shelly said that Darlene said that
Tina said that you are an ignorant fool.
So?
Jinny said that Zinna was rolling her eyes at you.
Farina said you have cooties.
So?
Do you want to hear what Allie said about you?
No, thanks.
Minnie said….
“I don’t want to hear it,” I tell her, skipping away.
“You are a poppie butt!” she yells after me.
Thank you, I yell back.
“You are CRAZY!” she hollers, angry now.
“THANK YOU!” I yell louder.
“They were talking trash about you,” my friend tells me.
Wait a second. This is my friend?
“Are you going to talk to them about it?”
No.
Are you going to fight them?
I throw back my head and laugh.
Once I mastered the skip away, the stay away and the thank you
Bullies had no power over me.
They started bothering others.
I try to teach my friends
Bullies will leave you alone
If they don’t think you are getting mad or sad.
Being so danged light skinned .
I had a terrible time mastering
Those telling pink cheeks.
I had to practice with
Trusted friends,
By letting them calling
Me names and practicing
My strategies.
The Keep Away.
The Skip Away.
The Thank You.
Believe me,
I now have it right.
No one bothers
Me now.
It’s simply
No
Damned 
Fun.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Relatives Re-inact A Romantic Reconciliation

Oh, yes, Darling! Please meet me up the street, in fifteen minutes, right past the old tan house with that porch, bamboo.
We need to talk about things, you and me, without your mean relatives, and that includes your cousin Ted Stew.
I’d gladly trade this car for a completely untarnished marriage certificate, cleaned out of the day-old flu.
But, fiance’, dearest, you have yet to show me your love nest, your side honey, or your super-secret tattoo,
So now that you realize I might cost you money, you love me forever, and think you can let go and forget the Queen of Vooody-Voo- Doo?
Sure, Sweet Darling. Being pre reasonable, I would certainly like to review our marriageable status, and begin trusting you anew.
Of course, we had better hurry, so we get this trust thing sorted, and my family decides to re-include you,
I do not think any love-you-forever ceremony, fancy hall, or wedding vows I will seriously pursue.
If you decide to take the challenge, there on the steps wearing their juiciest smiles, are my mother, Grandma Kell and cousin Lou.
Sure, they do all have guns, permits, frying pans, and razors. Confidentially, they’re in a hum dinger of a stew about you too.
What more can I do, Sugar Bear?  I’ve led you right to them, right up these pretty blue and white steps, and frankly, honey, it’s the best thing I could ever do.
So saying, I guess all my relatives are ready to talk and slap and pinch and punch, and fight and scrap, and kick, because they’re sort of mad you made me so blue.
Bye, Sweetie. I’m off for the weekend with my new honey, Rick, a gentle, kind, God-fearing man, who doesn’t want to stick around to see what they’re going to do.




Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Ode To My Rescue Dog

Found alone and scared on the streets of LA
A kill shelter is where she would stay

Sitting alone and cold in the dark
Nobody around to hear her bark

Until Jolene came to save the day
A nice rescue is where she would now stay

Villalobos Rescue put her on TV
Two years later, Louise brought her to me

Syndee Lou now sleeps in a warm cozy bed
All the bad memories are now gone from her head

I love her because she is cute, smart and funny
She likes to play ball with my other dog Gunny

Pit bulls have gotten such bad raps
All my dogs do is lick and take naps

Puppies are cute, but training's not fun
Getting a rescue dog is the best thing I've done

By: Josh Albertson
7th grade
Mrs McMurry


Copyright © Josh Albertson | Year Posted 2014


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Women In My Circle

I received this in my email this morning, and wanted to share it with everyone:

Girls in my Circles

When I was little,
I used to believe in the concept of one best friend,
And then I started to become a woman.
And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up,
God would show you the best in many friends.
  
One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man.
Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom.

Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your
children and their activities.
Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be.
One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,'
Another , 'Let's fight together,'
Another , 'Let's walk away together.'
 
One friend will meet your spiritual need,
Another your shoe fetish,
Another your love for movies,
Another will be with you in your season of confusion,
Another will be your clarifier,
Another the wind beneath your wings.

But whatever their assignment in your life,
On whatever the occasion,
On whatever the day,
Or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair
pulled back,
Or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself .
Those are your best friends.
 
It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many, it's wrapped up in
several.
One from 7th grade,
One from high school,
Several from the college years,
A couple from old jobs,
On some days your mother,
On some days your neighbor,
On others, your sisters, some days your sister-in -law,
And on some days, your daughters.
 





Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009


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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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7th Grade Memories

Wandering aimlessly throughout dim halls
As babble spills from around the corner.
Then there’s the knife in the drawer, it calls
For a slit of my throat with no torture. 

Eating lacks its former comfort and joy
When salty tears roll down onto your plate
Due to the disdain they’ll always employ
It crushes the chest like a giant weight 

Struggling to bear my life’s burden alone 
While grief breaks what’s left of my withered soul.
Until a blissful day written in stone
Shows me as a diamond pressed from hard coal 

Perhaps that moment will sooth my distress 
I’ll return to my departed finesse 






Copyright © Arianna Robinson | Year Posted 2015


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Reprehensible by Garrett Murtagh 7th grade

From the perspective of the main character...

Regrettable decision that I made
Early in my life.
People calling me murderer.
Regretting that terrible day.
Everyday I look at my peers,
Having to lie to them. Secretly knowing...
Everyone knows I am hurting. I'm
Not really okay!
Still hating myself!
I can't look at myself!
Behavior slowly changing...
Incredible pain!
Living through that terrible
Event everyday.


Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012


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Preyed upon Victim

I’m sure you don’t remember me
Yet forever branded upon my memory is your evil spree
I was far from your only victim
You and your pack bullying ever so gruesome 

You first noticed me in the 7th grade
Only late in high school did your interest fade

I was vulnerable
The sight of you made me fearful
I was admittedly awkward
Emotionally, you sent me needlessly backward

I only wanted a chance to grow
To let my emotions openly flow
I gave no thought to living amongst a foe

I was overweight, too smart for my own good
I had few friends, none from my hood
Even few in band with whom I played
Each confrontation with you, my mind further decayed

I played the flute
It was my only voice, the other having become mute

My best friend looked like me, dressed like me
She was smart like me
You called us gay when we were straight
Bullying with so much hate

You bark ‘shut up’ whenever I begin to speak
Treating me as if a freak
Your text messages make me sob
Unraveling inside, I become increasingly macabre

You cause me to feel isolated, alone
Depressed I lie in my bed, prone
Feeling hopeless, is this my destiny
My life – so empty, I stare blankly 

I think about cutting 
As my emotions are convulsing

I didn’t deserve the anger cast upon me
What was wrong with me
Why did you choose me
Will I ever be set free

You made me sick, I began to pray
Yet it was I who had become a preyed upon victim
Now, just two years later
From a bench in Washington Square Park
I recall those days ever so dark

I hoped you were in jail so you could inflict hurt no more
I wished you the sadness you had made my personal lore
I soon found your story and trembled fiercely as I read:

The body of Dylan Robinson, a 20 year old man, was found among the ashes of a seven story high rise in the Hunt’s Point section of the Bronx this morning at 2AM. 

Mr. Robinson lived in the building with his mother.  The unemployed auto mechanic died of asphyxiation resulting from a fire that started in a neighbors apartment.  Firemen on the scene cite Mr. Robinson for his heroism in saving the lives of Dom and Maria Cromartie, ages 5 and 4.

Mr. Robinson passed both children to a fireman positioned on a ladder outside a fourth story window.  As Robinson passed the children to the fireman, the floor collapsed, consuming him in flame not to be seen alive again.

Of Mr. Robinson, the fireman said, “Strangely he smiled as he passed the children to me, as if unaware of his danger.  As I motioned him to step onto the ladder he said something just as the floor gave way beneath him.  I don’t know what he meant, but he said, “one good deed”, then he perished.”

Mr. Robinson’s father is in prison for domestic violence and armed robbery.  His mother, unemployed and a reputed alcoholic survived the blaze and is resting comfortably in Bronx Lebanon Hospital.  

Trembling harder, gasping, as if again 12 and he with me
I see something in this moment I had not seen before

He endured pain at least equal to mine own
His response to the mayhem of his life was to bully others 

I don’t condone his chosen course 
Yet I now have perspective from an unexpected source
That in itself is a joyous revelation 
My sense of self experiencing rapid elevation
Relieved, overjoyed, I scream - It wasn’t me
It was never me, I was convenient, nothing more

I stop trembling, breathing steadier
A chapter in my life’s book quietly closing
I now realize, both he and I were  
Preyed upon victims


Copyright © Anson Decker | Year Posted 2017


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Inside the Heart (Poems from 7th Grade #4)

Many scientists know that there are many parts of the heart 
From the four valves to the aorta,
It is a beautiful thing 
But there are many parts of the heart that not everyone knows about
There is lots of wisdom that fills it
It makes you figure things out easily 
Love is another main part 
It is the life force of everything 
It helps you to find friends 
And to love others with respect 
Now you know, that the hear isn't just a muscle 
It's a machine of love and power.


Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010


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Darkness by Jacqueline Arias 7th grade

It's dark in this room.
    No light to shine.
No one to say hi
    but I'm filled with fright.

No one can see
    The fright inside of me
but the darkness is spreading
    all around me.

There is no future.
    Neither a past.
The present is here
    but it won't last.


Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012


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Fear of the Unknown by Johanny Espinal 7th grade

I'm hiding inside
     the fear of 
being misunderstood. 
The sky would turn gray.

Fear of the unknown
   Fear of confusion
My fears blind me....
to the
      truth,
          to hope.

Fear of the good.
  Fear of the bad.
So let me think....
   what else 
  do I fear?


Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012


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Accountability by Toi Ruiz 7th grade

Action!
Count on yourself!
Can't take anyone else's responsibilities.
Only you can!
Understand why you should
Not make
The mistake
Andy made by driving drunk.
B.J. should have driven that night
If Andy was so drunk.
Learn from your mistakes and bad choices.
If you do not
Then the same will happen to
You!


Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012


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Influence by Christian Cepeda 7th grade

Intoxication.....good or bad?
Not good if you're intoxicated or under the influence of alcohol. My
Future is important to me. Young ones,
Little ones, old ones. The
United States should be drug and alcohol free,
Even if it takes a lifetime.
No one should ever do drugs or become intoxicated.
Change can happen but it starts with you!
Everyone can make a difference.


Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012


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Misconception of Misery

It only started as a misconception, a misunderstanding
then like grass fed rain, it grew...grew into this
A eulogy, maybe this could be it
about you? For once, this is about me
How can it be...how can it be?
Dreaming, a dreamer am I
I've been dreaming since I was five
What age am I? 13?
Sorry, I felt like I was just a little older
I've had a rough life to live through
Lately I've been on edge, a steady step away
from jumping headfirst off a bridge, off a ledge; yeah
My life, a disarray of scattered promises
some broken, some kept
Emptiness, sorrow; all I seem to understand
everything has swept under me too fast
and I have nothing to hold onto to help me stand
Help me, I'm stuck on a roller coaster
I've had to teach myself how to react, how to attack
how to be stronger than me
while an unconscious thought screams, "WHERE'S MY DAD AT?"
but unknown training left me to mimic
the things I've seen on TV or the reality set before
Chameleon boy
and where are my parents: working and away
Unknown and unheard of has my father been 
till I was out of kindergarten
No one told me anything yet again I asked no questions
maybe I was just too young to understand
like a good boy, I just fell in line
while the innocence took over, leaving the oblivion
and my mother..somehow I've found 3 more women to call mom
They've treated me as part of their pack, their family
while in my own home, I'm the black sheep
while in my own home, I'm the outcast
When did home turn into high school part 2?
I shouldn't have to teach myself anything
I shouldn't have to change colors to satisfy anyone
so why do I feel I need to be a rainbow to be noticed
cause I'm so sick of being clear, of being me
How can it be, how can it be?
All I've ever known up until 4th grade was knowledge
knowledge only got me so far
I didn't know the stage beyond friend
I didn't know how to make friends, how to be one
Socially awkward, is this my disease
Misguided and divided I am
Is this what all Geminis face or is it just me
Did I remind her so much of my father
that my punishment is to live in my island of a room
and never return to shore
Everyone wonders why I'm the odd one, why I'm the distant one
why not since I know I'll never be enough
I know I've been more than a little harsh
I might have everything all wrong
but have you ever been taken away from your father
kicking and screaming while he stands defeated
switched between parents, back and forth
switched between states, off and on for years on end
Growing up yet you are absolutely oblivious
the only thing you know to be true is the sky is blue
the only thing you know to be true is the one place you hate
From 4th grade on, I've been a vortex
spiraling down, becoming gradually worse 
guess where I'm bordering now
In 5th grade, a poor reaction from confused feelings
lead to a breakdown and a halting of tears I couldn't stand
6th grade, I was a walking time bomb
fueled by rage, quelled by romance but all was fleeting
all I saw was red
All my judgments went so poorly
and every other day I hadn't the strength to move on
almost becoming a part of the in-crowd
that little kid dream of fitting in
Isn't it fun, caring so much while losing yourself ends friendships
funny, I never wanted to leave that year behind
I had my childhood friends, a girlfriend
I knew these people for years, I was content
until I went home, packed my bags
not breathing a word of goodbye
giving up everything it took years for me to have
whisked away to a new life
a new life I want nothing apart of 
7th grade, what a maze
I stood on my heels, pacing, a loser
Fitting in with people I know I'll never see again
showing a side of me I never knew existed
while becoming confused with a different attitude
towards this new life I've been chosen to live
education still my dictator
but that summer changed everything
I grew into myself, making new friends along the way
somehow I was someone everyone claimed to love
8th grade is where my life started, apparently my best year
Popularity, I reached my goal; I was thinking for myself
finally feeling like I was more than a face
but everything fell apart too quickly
Everywhere I looked up, we had to pack and move
there was too many questions and stress
while I just wanted to survive the year yet I survived nothing
Like my walls, I withered and crumbled
Why must I always be taken away from the things
the things I love the most
It's like breathing in cancer to remember
so I try to forget but I meet irreplaceable people
yet I know we'll grow of touch
Life just loves to see me suffer
Insanity is just sitting there, laughing away
while music tries to calm me down
with the aid of friends, the people I've come to know and love
and the one I'm chasing after
Somehow through the dark clouds
I find beauty in the unseen life of the world
I care too much, fall too hard, love too seriously
I try to be more than myself when I really just want to be...me
I admit I'm selfish yet selfless
This life has proven an obstacle I cannot conquer
My heart is strong but my bones are weak
I think too much
and all I've been through just made me older
just made me wish for a better life
wish for something beyond this
yet I just needed some relief tonight
from my shattered wasteland of uncharted feelings
Let the waves calm to halt and the sunset fall
A tale for time to read and weep for the misery of...me


Copyright © Crow thepoet | Year Posted 2016


Details | 7Th Grade Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Summer Colors

Some colors in summer
I miss them a lot 
Like shade, grass, sky
And sunlight, warm or hot
Stuck in 7th grade library 
I type what I want
Like my tank-tops and shorts
It calls to me in my mind
It calls me like a taunt
How badly I want summer
To tell winter good-bye
With my summer colors 
Like shade, grass, and sky


Copyright © Shay Funk | Year Posted 2010