Best New School Poems
As she was walking to a brand new school,
four strange men walked
with just her.
She didn't
know
why;
but she
had to be
so brave; showing
much courage, with one step after the next.
* The Problem We All Live With is a 1964 painting by Norman Rockwell. It is considered an iconic image of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.It depicts Ruby Bridges, a six-year-old African-American girl, on her way to William Frantz Elementary School, an all-white public school, on November 14, 1960, during the New Orleans school desegregation crisis. Because of threats of violence against her, she is escorted by four deputy U.S. marshals; the painting is framed so that the marshals' heads are cropped at the shoulders.On the wall behind her are written the racial slur "" and the letters "KKK"; a smashed and splattered tomato thrown against the wall is also visible. The white protesters are not visible, as the viewer is looking at the scene from their point of view. The painting is oil on canvas and measures 36 inches (91 cm) high by 58 inches (150 cm) wide.
02/10/2021
Contest:Double Tetractys 7
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Picture #1
soon be time again
meet new friends
as you check in
for new year
some dress as a bear
some will call al and hal
be girls and boys
THE NEW SCHOOL NEW PALS
I want everyone to understand clearly
that I don't want anyone to touch me.
I hate seeing clocks or watches in proximity..
They very rarely tell the time accurately.
At night, I have a reoccurring dream frequently.
In a clock's face, I see heads of persons I can't stand.
I cut off their heads with the minute hand.
There's this girl named Lisa who speaks with rhyme.
If she talks to anyone, she rhymes all the time.
Muriel is Lisa's other personality. There's nothing she will say.
Muriel writes down any communication she wants to convey.
Are you curious about where David and Lisa will go?
All you have to do is watch the video.
April 22,2021
Based on the 1962 film "David and Lisa"
I drink in her fresh powdery scent
Scent peculiar only to a baby
Baby cuddles up to me with trust
Trust in eyes that stare back adoringly
Adoringly I smile back with joy
Joy almost bursting seams of my heart
Heart now nudged by fingers of fear
Fear of twisted devils and degenerates
Degenerates who prey on innocence
Innocence in my angel, I'll protect
Protect with hawk eyes against suspects
Suspects to peck at like a Mother Hen
Hen like pledge I solemnly make
Make no ill come close or wrongly trust
Trust not even hubby, none at all
All afflictions that assailed mom will never
Never arise a secone time
Ok keep below the radar, stay out of sight,
Bury your head in the sand, do not incite,
Why get involved, it’s not your fight,
Zip up your mouth, should be alright.
Rise above them, turn the other cheek,
Play It real cool, no trouble you seek,
Come on dad, they’ll think I’m a geek,
I want to look strong, not appear weak.
Oh I see! so you want to act tough,
Look like your made, from real hard stuff,
Grind your teeth, Want to play rough,
What if they decide, to call your bluff.
Better be able, to swallow your pride,
Eat humble pie, then go take a ride,
Don’t want to be like, a little girl guide,
Run home to mummy, or go and hide.
I won’t be bullied, I’ll stand my ground,
I’m not going to get pushed around,
Face the music, go round for round,
Whoa there kid, it’s courage you found,
Got more balls than me, her dad frowned.
By
David Kavanagh
Late nights over early mornings.
We pride ourselves in earnings,
from tirelessly overworking,
breaking ourselves entirely,
rewards keep us company,
as they set the bar higher,
for the next spread of sheets.
Like creatures of the night,
we pile up the work load,
once the sun sets for the moon,
as stars twinkle twinkle on cue.
Time will tell a tale as expected,
maybe tomorrow too soon.
Slowly as it approached, my body began to quiver.
Finally, I became valiant and up the stairs I slivered.
Apprehension built up in me and I stood there, frozen
Why was this the school my parents have chosen
I sprinted down the aisle, catching no attention
I didn’t want to be the one everyone had to mention
The youngest; smallest, the babies of the rest
Everyone else, excited galore and surely filled with zest
After settling in my seat, waiting to finally arrive,
I reminisced about my home from which I was deprived
Distressed and on edge, I gawked out the window
As we approached, kids were as aroused as a Jindo.
The populous on the bus absconded so effectually
However, I was aghast and perceived perceptually
I skittered off the bus and admired the edifice
Here I’m at my new school, my old one I will miss.
Can you make a friend— like a craft project?
I know, I hear this parental voice, “just be yourself.”
All of my classes this semester will be in one building, but I’m a control freak, I wanted to walk my schedule, go class to class, like I will on my first day. I have a locker too—this is so high school—but I wanted to find it, try the combination and plan what I’ll carry. I have questions too, like how’s the wi-fi, are there charging outlets, and where can I get coffee?
Orientation is Tuesday—but who can wait until Tuesday? Classes start Wednesday. I’d never sleep this weekend with so many questions. I’m already having dreams where I’m lost, late and embarrassed.
So there I was, this morning, dressed for class with my green messenger bag—doing it—schedule in hand. I went into a small auditorium with cushioned, crimson, theater seating—where my first class will be—and there’s this other girl, dressed for class, schedule in hand.
We were like twins, except she’s tall and black and I’m not. Right off she commanded me, handing me her phone, no preamble, no “How do you do,” to “Take my picture.”
Of course, I obeyed, I’m not from outer space. I burst 50 quick frames, as she slightly varied her pose and she did likewise for me.
Her name is Chella and she graduated from Yale last week too, with a ‘Bachelor of Science in Global Affairs.’ I think I saw her on campus once or twice but our paths had never directly crossed.
“But IS 'Global Affairs' a science degree?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably not,” she answered, “but some of us can live with ambiguity.”
Her first direct, commanding phrase limns her personality perfectly.
Yeah, we hit it right off.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cruel To Be Kind by Letters to Cleo
Perfect Day by Povo
Are You Trying to Be Funny? by Everything But the Girl
Sarah was smart and sassy and wore a tired-looking bun.
Extremely bright, she made the rest of our class look slow and dumb.
I despised her right away.
Would not invite her to play.
Got to know her years later.
And she was tremendously fun, so I was the dumb one.
this was a gas
frist day in class
those who pass
wink
and i blink
am not kink
we had a blend
my
NEW SCHOOL FRIENDS
I had heard about it.
Then I saw it being built on the burial ground
of a field I had many times
played war upon.
Between noon and sundown,
the concrete arose;
an ashen boned jaw
riveted to the skyline.
I still looked to the green field
where, as Custer
I had made my 'last stands'.
I dreamed once that I was a dog,
just a pup,
chained to the school's bicycle rails.
Inside the new school
teachers screeched through split nails.
When they installed the glass
and painted the new building,
a too quiet foreboding came my way.
I knew that the arrow in my eye
was going to be pushed
a lot further in one day.
There I was lost in her gaze
Pretty brown eyes with the most beautiful face
Eyes so beautiful they gave a bright shine
I was content with them being just mine
But when they gazed away I felt very distraught
I traveled alone with a broken heart
Time flew by and I detested myself
because her gaze now looked upon someone else...
I saw it being built on the sacred burial ground
of a field I had died nobly upon many a time.
Dark girders arose riveted to the skyline,
ashen boned concrete walls constructed
by unseen hands.
I still looked to the green field where, as Custer
I had made my many 'last stands'
yet it, like my naivety, was being erased.
I dreamed that I was a dog
chained to the school's bicycle rails.
Inside the new school
demented teachers screeched through split nails,
yammering edicts at small cringing minds.
When they installed the glass
and painted the new school building,
a foreboding stole upon me.
My scalp tingled,
I knew that the arrow in my eye
was going to be pushed
a lot further inward one day.
The wonderfully designed expensive high school.
She approached with a graceful apprehension.
The teens there on that rich autumn day,had grown up
together.
But, she..from the big city?
Not welcomed to this suburban nation.
They stood in groups with almost familial jocularity.
Not she, who wanted to run as she had no popularity.
.................Poor little lamb!...................
What teen has not experienced feeling out of place!
It took her quite awhile to grow past being shy.
And she developed her own special friends by and by.
In all groups, the story seems sadly the same.
It's run by leaders, sometimes with arrogance
What a shame!
In life, she gets to relive high school all over again!
March 18, 2020
2pm PsT
I saw it being built on the battleground
of a field I had many times played war upon,
saw the concrete rise - an ashen boned jaw
riveted to the skyline.
Childhood still looked to the green field
where, as Custer,
I had made my many 'last stands'.
A dream: I'm a thin dog
chained to the school's bicycle rails,
inside echoing classrooms
teachers screech through split nails.
When they installed the glass
and painted the new building
I was enveloped by a dark foreboding,
sensing that the arrow in my eye
was going to be pushed
a lot further in one day.