Best Classmate Poems
You reminded me again, not to be late.
That I shouldn't let you hate.
What we have because it's delicate.
That you are fed up, trying to put me upright.
Talking about how much money I waste.
On things that ain't important.
Some that I buy off the internet.
Not to mention, going out on dates.
With group mates, accumulating debts.
Like earning money is a copy and paste.
That you are done with me not being straight.
So you are gonna leave and I will regret.
Because I don't seem to have learnt.
Ever since we met
So I made it simple enough not to complicate.
I talked to immaculate.
And asked her to review my monthly budget.
I blocked Margret.
I told Sarah to talk to Cate.
And tell her never to show up again at our gate.
I told you Peace is a friend, just like fortunate.
Shamim is my workmate same to Annet
And sometimes our bosses ask us to collaborate.
On some projects that's why I have to work late.
With Esther, Fauster and Bridget.
I am not always really out on a date of late.
And not to forget.
Shalom has got Jophet.
Who was my classmate.
So I wouldn't really want to interrupt.
What they have got.
Their relationship is perfect.
Remember the last time we met
In studio, I had to vacate.
Because I didn't want another upset.
Back at home with my soulmate.
Because of a compliment.
Or a comment that would make us fight.
Set us apart and have us separate.
I dearly love and cherish you my sweetheart.
An Autumn Portrait of Beauty
On this quite beautiful and most radiant Autumn day,
I marvel at Mother Nature’s smile of silent pulchritude,
As I make a loving glance at such luscious scenery today,
In this country scene—a glorious gift of God’s certitude!
The trees and their fallen amber leaves adorn this Earth,
As a shimmering reflection pervades from a green pond,
Of Nature’s wonder with colors arrayed in a sacred rebirth,
Affirming God’s heavenly promise true and His holy bond!
This view of trees, grass, leaves, and a shadow near the pond,
Captures the glory and grace from God’s colored-palette a true,
That affirms His desire of rendering this beauty from beyond,
And I thank Him from my heart with joy and blessings so true!
Yes, God doth paint this world with such love for all to see,
His Autumn portrait here is of unparalleled artistry and grace,
That I interpret as a heavenly-made moment for all of us to be,
As I reaffirm the beauty of Nature’s gift in this wondrous place!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 6, 2015 (Rhyme)
Author’s Note: A special tribute to a former classmate.
“The future belongs to those who
believe in the beauty of their dreams.”
-- Eleanor Roosevelt
Granny Grew Up
Eleanor was not thought to be beautiful, but God
uses an ugly duckling in his plans. Severe
was her grandmother, that made her dress dowdy.
Her father, she loved him dearly, but he was a drunk.
Fulfilled dreams live in the future, and in the future again,
often fleeting, the present breaking one’s heart.
Eleanor’s mother-in-law, harsh, unyielding; her husband
would be unfaithful - what was he like at the start?
Still, this starling became a First Lady; her husband
in charge of the country, and at a time of great turmoil.
She mothered six children; and became a diplomat.
As a child, was known as “Granny,” for being serious.
But this serious woman would make her mark, not
just as a woman on a man’s arm, but so much more.
This swan would fly together and on her own, beautiful
in her own way. I lived in her shadow, read her book.
I grew up in Hyde Park, New York; saw her son once.
My classmate was held by Eleanor at a fire station.
I rubbed elbows, of sorts. Eleanor fascinated me.
She made, or rather God, made her dreams come true.
Like us, she suffered a great deal, in various ways.
Dreams are not shaped without adversity. We wish.
Did you know, she took to the air with Earhart?
Live your life breathlessly, hopefully - be beautiful!
The rain is drumming on the rooftop,
tomorrow the river will flood.
The morning news spews outrage
about sewage in the Potomac,
apropos somehow.
Epstein
Iran
Tariffs
Democrats
Republicans
Jesus saves,
maybe not.
LIFE is full of memorable moments:
My brother died
my cousin died
my friend died
my classmate died~
Seconds tick by silently
as my elderly mother
waits to die.
My life is remarkably unmemorable
and that’s okay…
It's not
as if you have
a choice in the matter,
but if you leave a poem it's
enough.
Year after year, young people inspire me.
The freshness of youth brings forth curiosity.
Diversity and personality scream, it seems –
Noisily, boisterously, playfully, hope knocks.
Each child has amazing talents to unlock.
Shy ones work in silence while some classmates tease.
Others squirm around on a whim and a breeze.
Did you guess? I am a substitute teacher.
I learn something new every day that I work.
I guess you might say it is a hidden perk.
I love my work and I love to learn from many.
There was one high school boy
A class leader who loved to rap –
Talking, laughing, rapping; class behavior zapped.
I saw impending disruption; So, I struck a deal.
My clever solution was a bit surreal.
When everyone finished their work, he could rap.
Work first, then fun was my motto; he took charge.
His group of "homies” got to work right away.
The classroom was silent that wonderful day.
So, just as I promised, ten minutes at the end,
He started a beat others joined from their seat.
Line upon line he rapped words with rhyme.
Then, point to a classmate who would rap in time.
It was so much fun to see faces aglow.
When he pointed to me, I used poetry.
From that day forward, when he was in my class,
He would ask me to write a class poem, alas.
They would give me a topic and a few key words.
The students worked first; then, my poem was heard.
They would listen to my poems line after line.
I can still see his face after all of these years.
The sparkle in his eyes untangled my fears.
Years later, I was bored out of my mind.
My hip disintegrated; I was confined.
What would I do? The answer, I could not find.
I remembered that boy and that he liked my work.
It was his and his classmates’ reactions –
They influenced me to take writing action.
I joined Poetry Soup; poetry became a love affair.
I met friends, studied forms and wrote anywhere.
Paper towels or notebook paper, it mattered not.
When away from my computer, I would jot.
That boy brought the beginning; self-confidence.
His cheery influence blessed me with lifetime joy.
They liked my poems; so, I wrote thousands more.
All of this because of one young boy who will never know,
It was his good-word raps that set my soul aglow.
March 8, 2017
Written for the Poetry Contest - Younger People Who Have Inspired You
I cry when I think of the loves lost,
Embraces missed, hands not held;
While I encased my heart in frost,
Whither nice young men repelled.
The fresh boy who remembered,
Me from our old primary school;
I wish now I had surrendered,
And not dismissed him as a fool…
The teen who wanted to take me,
To the final-night feast at camp,
He was vastly too short you see,
Although a very lovable scamp!
The classmate who collected essays,
For me from the marking pile -
And lingered to give me praise;
Wish I asked him to stop a while.
The earnest young student who waited,
To talk after Friday social-tea,
He is one I ought to have dated;
But I thought him too pious for me.
Taller, smarter, or just plain weird,
I saved myself for him who loved not;
Leaving the sweet boys who appeared,
To find other girls to tie the knot.
When I grew wiser I knew to miss,
The fine menfolk I had passed by,
Lost many opportunities for a kiss,
As I had a crush on the wrong guy.
11/5/2017
WHEN MOTHER PULLS THE CART
Way back my classmate of middle school
Lost early on his father in the clutch of cancer
Destitute family cart mother was forced to pull
Clouds of trying times in the void sky he saw gather.
The study expenses weren’t easy to meet
He thought from the school he would drop out
But his mother said he needn’t, should never do it
She would soon find the way out, without any doubt.
He had no idea what that way could be
He was so assured, didn’t lose sleep over it
For he knew mother would do her best to see
Her bright son finished the school study with credit.
He woke up in the middle of a winter night
Found his mother’s bed empty, not slept on
When this happened routinely night after night
He decided to find out where she could’ve gone.
In the dead of cold night he went out to explore
Saw from the antique room a streak of light seep
He peeked through the keyhole of the closed door
She was stitching cloth bags, eyes half-closed in sleep.
January 23, 2019
Contest : All Yours (Feb 19)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Did she say time numbers or prime numbers?
I was sure it was not rhyme numbers.
She is staring at me. Miss Johnson, math teacher.
Takes daydreaming in class as a personal affront.
Her eyes narrow. I yawn. Bad move.
Could you demonstrate this on the board, Caren?
Out of all the students in all the math penitenturies in all the galaxies….
Miss Johnson moves her head toward the blackboard.
When I get there I pick up a piece of smeary chalk.
Where to begin?
“Make two columns,” she says primly.
I understand now why no man has been desperate enough to marry her.
“One for prime and one for composite.”
A clue. Maybe prime is odd and composite is even?
I make the columns.
The second I throw down the one and the two hands are up.
Every classmate wants a turn to redo my work.
The math brains are dying to show Miss Johnson they were listening.
I remember thinking “When am I ever going to need this?”
That was fifty-seven years ago, and frankly, I never have needed it for any reason.
Prime, crime, rhyme, dime, lime, mime, lime.
Who cares?
P.S. Miss Johnson never did get married.
Incomprehensible are the
Petty landmarks that linger in a person's life
It happened so long ago
That I'm surprised I still remember.
In St. Thomas' parochial school
When Sister Elizabeth held a ruler
In her pale white hands
Any signs of mercy
Mysteriously vanished from her blue eyes
Religion was her weapon
Corporal punishment it's end
Fueled by frustration
She held the class
In fear.
Every school day
Was a grey morning
Of my longing to be somewhere else
Standing by the door
In a robe
Of darkest wool
Sister Elizabeth counted us in
One by one
As we walked in silence
Hair combed
Little backs held straight.
From her glance
The message was clear
Grade school was not about deep thoughts
Or clever ideas
Originality was not in vogue
It was about small things
That grown-ups winked at
And often ignored
Issues, important as the color of beige.
One dull morning
I whispered to a classmate
When I shouldn't have
Called to the front by Sister Elizabeth
I was given the ultimate punishment
The ruler and then some
In her capable hands my palms were lacerated
When I cried out
She turned my hands over
Until my knuckles bled
Darkening the cuffs of my white shirt.
That evening my mother cried at my bruises
And my father uttered a string of curses
Long into the night
True
Sister's time was not easy
Teaching mindless brats
Such as myself
Only added to her
Disappointment.
Over the years
Attitudes changed
Commitments weakened
And Sister, childless and alone, realized
Much too late
That her days of sacrifice and Catholicism
Chastity and prayer
Had been a life against nature.
Even now my hands cringe
To a fist
When someone holds a ruler
For the wounds are marked deep
In memory.
Salute! To you our class president,
As you lead us away to impertinent.
A president who's passionate.
Let your faith dominate.
Salute! To you our class president,
As you lead us to a change which is permanent,
A president who's dedicated.
Let your honor be laminated.
Salute! To you our class president.
As you guide us to whatever school life's lament.
A president who's also an ordinary classmate,
Let your destiny finds your soulmate.
Salute! To you our class president,
As you unfold what your life is meant.
A president who's dignity is cemented,
Let your efforts be appreciated.
I was reminiscing the other day about people I've known o'er the years,
And found it strange that their names corresponded with their careers.
For instance, Joseph Carpenter was handy with hammer, nails and saw.
Clyde Barrister, famed ambulance chaser, successfully practiced law!
Art Paynter, dabbled in pornographic oils and is now confined in prison.
My dentist, Whitey Capps, takes care of my choppers as if they were his'n.
A neighbor, Semmi Riggs, is a long-haul trucker and is on the road a lot.
He married a classmate of mine, Tipsy Toper, renowned as the village sot!
An old army buddy, Hank Roper, is a cowpoke and rides the rodeo scene.
An old girl friend of mine, Freda Flick, is now starring on the silver screen.
The town ne'er-do-well, Don Heller, got religion and became a preacher.
His brother Bob (known as stuttering Bob) became an English teacher!
Willie Wrench turned out to be one of the finest Buick mechanics around,
And his wife Lila (nee Leak) is a plumber and none better is to be found.
Cyrus Cloud is working for the National Weather Service as a meteorologist,
And I hear that Buddy Butts has a thriving practice as a famed proctologist!
Frenchie Horne has his own band and I see him on the boob tube now and again.
An old pal, Gilbert Graves, is the village undertaker located at Fifth and Main.
Was it intentional or fickle fate that wedded these names to their vocation?
I reckon in a sense 'twas both due to a struggling bard's wild imagination!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
“Grandfather, grandfather! At school today,
a classmate hit me with a book.
The teacher made him stay inside
for recess. She said he was a good boy
who did a bad thing. What did she mean?”
“Grandson, I will tell you a story.
All men have inside of them two wolves.
One wolf is all that is good in the world:
the bravery of our fathers,
the strength of our mothers,
kindness toward friends,
compassion for our elders.
The other wolf is all that is bad in the world:
the hatred of one man for another
murder and theft among the clan
envy, sorrow, regret---
all that is evil among man.”
“And Grandfather, which wolf wins?
The one that you feed, grandson.
The one that you feed.”
Life is a playground, the fun never ends.
Not a care in the world, just run around with your friends.
Doodling on the walls
Playing house with your dolls.
Chasing boys around with cooties
But only those you think are cuties.
A scraped knee covered with a Hello Kitty band aid.
“There’s no monster under your bed, don’t be afraid”
Said Daddy, after a bedtime story.
Suddenly you realize- Dad’s jokes are getting too corny.
Life is an avalanche, no one understands.
Why does nobody get your obsession with this boy band?
Mom is too naggy
Your classmate is too braggy.
Chasing deadlines for essays due weeks ago
Procrastinating,contemplating; you’ve hit an all time low
You’re hungry, but you’re fat.
Each week there’s a new pimple to pick at
“I think he likes you,” whispers your friend.
But you know he only likes you for your backend.
Suddenly, you realize- you’re no longer updated with the latest trends.
Life is an overflowing agenda, it’s nerve racking
Responsibilities and bills just keep stacking.
The baby’s awake at two am again
You blink once, and suddenly he’s ten.
Now you’re Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter bunny all rolled into one
Did you really just make that lame pun?
You realize that you sound just like Mom.
When your son brings home a girl, it’s hard to remain calm.
Your husband finds a gray hair on you
And you can’t help but feel a bit blue.
Suddenly, you realize- you’re sitting at your baby’s wedding pew.
Life is a daydream, you reminisce about the past.
How long did eighty years really last?
Sour moods and achy bones
The children moved out, you are now alone.
Open a photo album, look and see.
“Wow, was that really me?”
The fireplace crackles, the rocking chair creaks
You sit your granddaughter on your lap and pinch her cheeks.
“I had pigtails just like you when I was your age”
Suddenly, you realize- it is now your time to exit the stage.
Well oh well were do I begin. When I was three and half they put me in the news
paper for autism but during that time it was called development delay. One in every 45
kids have autism to date. My mom still question to today why was I first in the program
to be put
in the news paper. What the doctor told my mom was one day in my twenties he will
surpass his classmate in learning. Well I went college and I was the worst student by the
end of graduate I was one of there best student. During take Trigonometric and
Precalculus
I did two assignment in 15 minutes which shock the entire tutor lab held by teacher they kept
informing me about universities.
In middle school I was a PPR helper kept thinking isn't this supposed be done by
high school students. And most importantly why was my name on the roster for
try out's for basketball. What I later learned was it is a difference between off a dribble
and screen pass shoot who knew. And why do the people in my city call me
Mr.Borgo I am
not that much older then them. And Ironic as it sound something I think about is that they lost
At state by three points.
Well to me if the nets don't twist up it like never went in. All I ask is
please tell me I'm Lying. Maybe I shouldn't went home bound. Who knew the future of
education would have a lot of autism kids. All I can say is Sony was one of my best friend
a child could ask for.
Holy06 The Ghost Was Here. Reedit sooner or later.
I am gay.
I'm not a disease, I'm not a problem
I'm not an affliction
I don't need treatment.
I don't need help
I'm not sick
I'm not confused
I'm not a sin.
I am gay.
I'm your daughter
Your sister
Your friend
Your co worker
Your classmate
Your acquaintance
A complete stranger
I am gay.
I need love, just like you
I need smiles
I need support
I need a hug
I need a friend
I need a family
I need acceptance
I need understanding
I need you
I am gay.
I know what love is
I know what pain is
I know what hate is
I know what life is
I am gay.
And I need you to love me
The same way you loved me before you knew
I am gay.
And I have experienced hate
From more people than just you
I am gay.
And I wont change.
I wont give up.
I wont back down.
I wont pretend.
I wont lie.
I wont deny.
I wont hide.
I wont hurt.
I am gay.
And that's okay.