Best 8Th Grade Poems | Poetry

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late night thoughts from the 8th grade by Kenyon, Ema
Bullying in Schools by Ulyssa Vinarta 8th Grade by Munich, Lynette
Influence by Crismarie Perdomo 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Fear by Victoria Cloin 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
A Cry in the Dark by Thomasia Mack 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Lost by Jason Feria 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Punitive by Cristie Rivera 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Hope, Faith and Love by Crismarie Perdomo 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Fear at Home by Justin Thompson 8th grade by Munich, Lynette
Hope in Darkness by John Caleb Martinez 8th grade by Munich, Lynette

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The Best 8Th Grade Poems

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My Inner Voice

I leave the daily hustle and bustle of a city's cacophony of sound. And go to where the leaves softly rustle in the breeze... and no one else is around. When I'm alone, I find an inner peace that raises my soul to a higher plane. And anxiety's attacks slowly cease free from critical critiques and disdain. Seclusion fuels imagination shaping reality within my mind. And it's a feeling of liberation, unrestricted by rules of any kind. Whenever I seek solitude by choice I hush the whispers of my inner voice. (Sonnet) May 2, 2018 The Beauty of Solitude Line Gauthier

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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A Huffle-wink's Nearby

You all know about fire breathing dragons and their obsession for hoarding treasure. But, have you ever heard of Huffle-winks magical creatures...that promote pleasure. Invisible, atop of dragonflies they ride the winds of fate, mile after mile. And whenever they encounter a frown they'll try to flip it...into a smile. They harness dragonflies to get around for unlike dragons, they haven't learned to fly. But, if suddenly you feel like laughing it's a safe bet...a Huffle-wink's nearby. In winter when dragonflies disappear they’ll hitch a ride on tumbling snowflakes. And if your lucky enough to catch one it's like winning the lottery sweepstakes. I've never seen one, except in my dreams but, I know in my heart that they are real. And what makes me so sure that they exist is the wonderful way they make me feel. When you're feeling particularly blue remember there are Huffle-winks around. And they're masters of jocularity, ensuring that smiles and laugher abound. (Quatrain) May 17, 2018 Dragons, Dragonflies, and Huffle-winks Poetry Contest Caren Krutsinger

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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Spiritual warfare begins

A sad state our government has become today 
in this awful news that just pushes the boat out further 

As our democracy for one protecting our children 
Why it is even under attack beats me up inside moral grounds 
this should not even be considered under the harshest circumstances 
because it's a humane act to love our little ones bless them with life 
not kill them shows savages craving suffering judgemental fools 

Tells me all that I need to know about corrupt politics 
under an non democratically elected leadership

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2018

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Tethered To The Sun

Sunlight scampers through the green of the trees where the essence of soft shadows slip-slide. And subjected to the whim of each breeze they scurry to find new places to hide. The ground is dappled with patches of light shape shifting into mobile abstract art. And watching them dance is a pure delight for nature knows how to tug at my heart. The effect is a magical display of shifting shadows tethered to the sun. And like a sophisticated ballet they twirl, plié, sauté and spin about as one. Shadow and light flicker in perfect sync on and off, as if nature had to blink. (Sonnet) May 11, 2018 THE ESSENCE OF SOFT SHADOWS - Poetry Contest John lawless

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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From Now On

From now on, I'll not hide behind a lie or fool around at the bar every night. For part of me dies, when I see you cry and I know what I'm doing...isn't right. I cannot change anything I have done there's no way for me to erase the past. And the time of reckoning has begun the embarrassing questions have been asked. If you want me to, I will walk away every chance you've given me...I've blown. And I know there is nothing I can say if you decide you're better off alone. But, if you still believe we have a chance, from now'll get roses and romance. (Sonnet) May 25, 2018 From Now On Poetry Contest Nayda Ivette Negron

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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The Last Show

The stage was so spectacular I had to wear my glasses.
They only let a handful in with extraordinary passes;
written in a scripted font and lined with foiled gold,
for those of us who had one, they were something to behold.

The gullible sat waiting for the buffoonery to start;
the ratings in the papers were completely off the chart.
Some had heard of wonder, that it cured them of depression;
many left in disbelief; it made quite an impression.

The crowd began to stir with a ubiquitous roar of chatter,
every person in the house was pondering the matter,
when suddenly the room went dark and everyone was still.
With widened eyes and racing heart, I hoped it'd fit the bill.

A man appeared larger than life amid a frightening scene,
his head was framed in rising flames that billowed smokey green.
He shouted at the crowd and we all shuddered as he glared,
he asked a volunteer to approach if any of us dared.

A dreadful fright took hold of us as we all sat there in fear,
my spine seemed to be paralyzed while others shed a tear.
The air became uncomfortable as the man began to rage,
and that is when a young girl stood and walked toward the stage.

The crowd let out a gasp as she climbed the center stairs.
We hoped that she would stop as we stayed glued to our chairs.
She stood before the giant man who said with a deep voice:
"Who sent you to me?" and she replied, "I come to you by choice."

While several of us fainted, the man became perplexed.
He seemed to lose control and suddenly was vexed.
This wasn't what he planned and the show was off the script,
he stuttered and he stammered as the situation flipped.

"How dare you show me disrespect!" he said through smokey haze,
but the young girl stood in bold defiance of his fiery blaze.
She spoke to him with empathy and stared with caring eyes,
"I think this front you've shown to us is nothing more than lies."

He couldn't think of what to say, she'd called him on his bluff,
the tension cracking through the room was now more than enough;
the man let out a tired gasp as the smoke and flame went out,
he softened up his voice with no more reason left to shout.

"You're right," he said in solemn tones,"You've seen through my disguise,
I've never had this happen though I've had so many tries."
He turned to the astounded crowd and said "I'm from Topeka"
and ended the last show he did by shouting out "Eureka!"

Written: 05.17.18
Joined: 05.17.18
The first poem submitted: This one - The Last Show

Copyright © Cary Snowden | Year Posted 2018

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My Bio Poem from 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

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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A Few Things To Rant About

When is a lie an alternative truth? Why are parking spaces so tight? Do subway riders know deodorant exists? Why do jaywalkers ignore red lights, and children never wash their hands before they eat? Who decided to spell doubt with a "b"? Why have twenty check outs and only two cashiers? Why are there no cops around when you need one? Why are push doors always pull at the store? So many little things that never annoyed me before! A few more things to add to my list, nobody told me life would be as hard as this there's no washroom around when you need to piss tips are automatically added to the cost of a meal and the mailman won't bring parcels to your apartment door. I know I've been ranting, but there’s so much more, roads that never get plowed people who pay for groceries by check double parking on a main street and oh, what about coffee that’s too hot to drink? (Verse) May 5, 2018 A Rant - Poetry Contest Shadow Hamilton

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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Say it

You knew
He liked you,
He expressed
But never said.

On social media
He followed,
Every picture was saved
that you upload.

He practiced a lot
for final meet,
So, that he could make you listen
his heart beat.

He trapped by his own
stupid dual thoughts,
Risk of loosing you as a friend
motivated him, not to propose.

Unspoken words,
would be better to say,
Otherwise, it will be,
too late........

Copyright © Trittya Yelane | 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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The F Poem


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Throwing Stones

Our distant cousin murders the English language every single time she trills.
WOYt is white, and Blah is black, and her long A’s can barely maneuver these hills.
AmbyEance means ambulance, and her R’s are a pure musician’s nemesis.  
Uh-oh, here she comes, hiding behind a language couple, and she’s fully dressed.
Has she seen us? This cousin who has no idea that she’s a murderess through and through?
Oh, hi darling. We’d invite you to stay, but there’s only room in this restaurant for me and him, and these other two. 

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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A Young Bully Named

There once was a bully named Jim.
He made people cry on a whim.
He was big, bad and mean
And had a name-calling machine,
because he was not very smart, this man, Jim.

There once was a bully named Thad.
He called names and pulled hair, when mad.
We made him our pal,
And he said, "you guys are a wow!"
And he changed his whole attitude and was glad.

There once was a bully named Day.
He did everything to keep people away.
We ignored his bad side,
which he soon learned to hide.
Our new friend, who now liked to play.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Thwarting the Bullies

Shelly said that Darlene said that
Tina said that you are an ignorant fool.
Jinny said that Zinna was rolling her eyes at you.
Farina said you have cooties.
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?”
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

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Death's Game

Death’s Game

I take your hand
You hold onto to mine
As our week comes to and end
I thought you’d be fine
But in the wake of death
No one is safe
One small call
And it causes us to shake
You lay there
Not able to talk
You skin is pale
You eyes are too
But I still say my final goodbye
And I give my last hug to you
My family is frantic
Your wife is insane
But that’s just how death
Plays the game

Copyright © Cassidy June | Year Posted 2018

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Angels Among Us

When a soul is forced to beg on the streets their pain runs deeper than the eye can see. And before you label them all deadbeats you should ask yourself...what if that were me? But for the grace of God, that could be you reach out with your heart as well as pity. And consider what they’re going through panhandling from the dregs of the city. You cannot picture yourself in their shoes without stepping out of your comfort zone. And muttering, “ you’ll just waste it on booze” are hurtful words, that degrade with their tone. Charity is a selfless endeavor that perpetuates kindness...when you give. And that good karma can last forever it's a matter of how you choose to live. Imagine how wonderful it would feel, if a stranger took the time to help you. And you got to see miracles are real though angels among us...are rare and few. (Quatrain) June 3, 2018

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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Humans need hope to help them cope

heeding its call for give and take.

Heartfelt vows spin words into rope

having found fragile bindings break.

Half truths leave lovers hurt and numb

harbingers of heartaches to come,’s fueled by hope.


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018

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13 And Confident

She is assertive.
When she does not want to do 
something, she lets you know.

She honors herself.
Her heart shows her the way.
She listens to her inner voice.
She is 13, and confident.

She cannot be cajoled, swayed, or lured.
She is her own person, following her path.
Making choices that delight herself, and no one but.

She is a dynamo.
On a clear course.
She has met no one who can fool her.
I pray she never does.

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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I was in second grade when I started comparing myself to other girls.
I asked myself, “why am i not her?” “why are my thighs bigger?” “why can’t i have her blonde hair that seems to flow in the wind when boys chase her around the playground, while i sit underneath the slide and wait for my turn that never seems to come?

i was nine years old when i first started hating what i saw staring back at me in the mirror. i thought my body was too big, that my legs were too muscular. that my teeth were too crooked. that i was too me, and not enough of her. 

i was in fifth grade when i first learnt what the word “annoying” meant and what a “diet” was. i also learned that i should just keep my mouth shut, because why open it when i have nothing useful to say and nothing beautiful to show?

i was 13 when i first cried in the bathroom at school because a boy liked blonde hair better than brown and i was 13 when i first started starving myself because i couldn't bear for another calorie to be added to my oh-so-heavy 100 pound me. 

when i was in 8th grade, i started to measure my self worth based off of what others thought of me. if a guy looked at my ass, then i was worth something. at school dances, my friends and i, we used to count the number of boys that asked us to dance. we’d go to someone’s house afterward and giggle and compare the amount. we’d feel dignified if we were the one with the most. like it proved something. it decided who was the most popular. the most beautiful. 

when i was in 8th grade, i also learned what slitting my wrists meant and i realized that it was easy to take away my pain. i learned what it felt like to have your dignity striped away and have one of your best friends leave you. i was told i wasn't good enough. i was told i wasn't pretty enough. i was told i was annoying, that i disappointed my family, that i didn't deserve life. 
so i believed them. 
and i almost ended the most precious gift that i have ever been given. 

and my freshman year of high school, i didn't only let myself enter a new school but i also let another person enter me. i thought that because he wanted me, i was beautiful. i traded my integrity for another’s lust. my innocence was striped away by a boy who didn't even know my last name.

the summer of my senior year, i was raped. a boy decided that he was selfish enough to take a piece of me that wasn’t his to take. i cried. i smoked. i drank to forget. but nothing could eat the pain. 
nothing eases the pain felt because of assault .
nothing eases the pain felt because of society. 
nothing eases the pain felt because of small-minded people who believe that some are better than others. 
nothing eases the pain. 

This Poem Is For All People Struggling With Society. 
Remember: You Are Society. Don’t Struggle With Yourself. 

Copyright © Maura Webb | Year Posted 2015

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The Band

She steps up to the plate –smiling
The smile that fills you with hatred and embarrassment
When so often it is present.

This is no laughing matter.

The unliked by the team,
But still the needed captain.

The field is watching, waiting.
Bat up, she stances.
Eyes narrow.
The players tense –mechanically.
The pitch from empty space,
Creation of the batter’s mind,
Carefully crafted to tie the game.
The crowd groans.
She swings.
And off goes the game.

She motions to first.
The ball whizzes through the air-

First the infielders –chasing –running –pacing
Staccato across the red.
But they are no match –the ball continues.
She accelerates to second.

The inner-outfielders, the bridge, take over,
As if squeaks and honks can stop it.
They chase, to fill the empty space, but relent.
She crescendos to third.

The far-outfielders, at last,
The most important players of all.
Long, deep strides cover much ground,
But they cannot compare.

The ball is gone.
She made it home.
There is silence in the field.

And the crowd goes wild.


(In 8th grade, I really didn’t care for my band teacher, but loved band.)

Copyright © Anna Wright | Year Posted 2016

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Grandma Hearts Grandma

I never met Grandpa
so I do not know
if he ever went dancing
or stubbed his toe.
But I do know
one thing-
Grandma loved him.

And Grandma died
when was in 8th grade.
So we didn't talk
I am afraid.
But I do know
one thing-
Grandpa loved her.

Copyright © Lisa Stoffer | Year Posted 2012

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Day One, so on and so forth 
That's about how we met 
Took him away from another girl
Soon learned the word regret!

Day Two . . .  wasn't any better
Not like I thought it'd be
That selfish girl came round
And took him back from me!

Well sister let me tell you 
That guy belongs to me    
He's just so immature
So now we're on Day Three!

Thirty days rolled by 
Before I think I knew 
I'd passed another Day One
Rolled up in number Two

Finally! . . . I woke up 
Just as the alarm rang
I'll be late for 8th grade
So up and out I sprang!

Copyright © Judy Konos | Year Posted 2013

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Love is Like A Bee's Sting

Love is like a bee's sting
It's sting is the reminder
The bee is buxxing in my ear
It lands on my nose, I hear it saying "Be Careful". My eyes focus on its stinger.
I taste that its sweet honey is really poision.
Thats what love is, love tastes so sweet but it can be poisionous like a bee stinging you on the nose
A touch thats the first part of love. My first real boyfriend Josh can tell you, in NewYork, at school  in an 8th grade c lassroom.
He could remind you of the first time we met
The bee flies off to the flower buzzing
"After all that time"
#Love, does the world reaaly need to know?
Bee, are you talking to me?
The fresh flowers died, but yet it still
stood straight into the ground
"Honey" is a name called for a certain special someone. Honey is also the product of a bee.
A couple on a bench are fighting, and soon one was off flying away.
Little Court, lost in her emotions
love is going to be a payback
The future is not going to be a place of love
it will be full of hatred
I'll have to forget all of the things I've already forgotten
the stars make their own wishes
Love is worse than a bees sting

Copyright © Courtney Vinch | Year Posted 2014

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A Dog's Life


Lovable, Friendly

Frolicking. Jumping. Chewing.

Ball. Cat!  Bed. Window.

Sleeping, Pattering, Growling

Loyal, Loving


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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Pain in my Heart by Pamela Espinal 8th grade

Pain in my heart,
from the day you left.
Thinking that you would be next to me soon
but I guess it was too good to be true.
Why is it when I say it's going to be a good day,
I truly know it's not,
especially without you?

Pain in my heart,
feeling weak when I think of you.
Just wanting to break down and cry
but not wanting to make a show.
It's true what everyone says,
how a smile can hide pain
but this pain is too strong
for me to hide.

Pain in my heart,
waiting to hold you in my arms
but  never got the chance.
Hoping there was no harm
but there was,
for me.

I know you're in a better place,
that's all that counts
but I still wish I could see your face.

Pain in my heart,
but you're happy in heaven
while I'm not well.
Trying to snap out of this misery.
depression isn't me.
Life may have ended for you
but love will not!

Copyright © Lynette Munich | Year Posted 2012