Best Schoolers Poems
Hey, how are you
We don’t talk much
Well I talk, but you?
Not much
I’ve known you for
A while
Since sixth grade
When my bus was late
And I came in
One seat left
We passed papers back
I turned around
And there you were
I froze inside
Flash forward to the fire drill
Where the high schoolers
Screamed weird things
At us
We didn’t talk for a while
After that
But I admired you
From afar
Your bravery
Intelligence
Sports skills
Which I’ll always lack
And kindness
You always were very kind
Last year, we did talk
A lot, in fact
After school almost
Every day
Then we didn’t
This year we only have
A few classes together
And I think that’s how
It’ll stay but
It’s fine
I’ll just notice how
You walk into first hour
Just a little late
Because of clean-up crew
And how you sit in the back
In seventh hour
The teacher made you move
And how you talk to your friends
And don’t notice me
Because you’ll always be you
And I’ll always be me.
Darkness
That’s all my closed eyes could see while my lips were being captured by an awkward preteen boy.
My bruised lips from nervous biting matched perfectly with his smooth ones. This moment.
Of vulnerability and shyness was his and his only to see.
How new it felt, but not long lasting.
After all, we were just young middle schoolers wanting to get a taste of something sacred and refreshing.
Like fine wine, made only for the best and yearned by the curious ones.
Ted was a proper torturer
he'd gag me after tea
he'd ram a flannel down my gob
then dangle me on his knee
A virgin when I married
my mums and dad were Mormons
home-schoolers don't do sex Ed. much
though they did go on about hormones
I thought Ted's ways were normal
it was all new ground to me
my terrified eyes would turn him on
so I didn't have the heart to flee
I got used to the violent jerking
I got used to a gob full of flannel
but I wished I'd prayed and made a fuss
when he hid me behind his panel.
S O F
I come over home schoolers house
He looks me up and down
am no looker
But the boy's looking
"So am suppose to help you out or somein?"
I nod without a word
He grins like satan
And im burning up in hell
"So hows it like being home schooled?"
He looks at me,use to the question and knowing the answer by heart
"Ive got free food"
And i laugh,he throws butterflies in my stomach
He sits me down
and he bends down for my bag
And looks up
I seductively say:Are you high?
He nodds
And i gap
He replies:High in 7th heaven
And takes my hand
The next thing i know im trying to get on his lap
But that chairs in the way
He flicks the chair
And he carries me easily onto the couch
But before i could get his lips
He collides onto the ground
his mom staring at us wildly
No more crazy fun for us
He looks at me with a frown
"Sometimes,i wish my mom would leave off school grounds"
***Humour and lips are a great combo=) ***
For a missing friend Booboo who knows awwe to well
Transportation, Mi sey transportation
School transportation, Mi sey transportation.
Transportation of schoolers, We can’t ignore
Parish Council and T.A. open the door
Dem open de door to safe highways
Drivers, come mek mi show you de way.
PLAN NUMBER ONE, yu must put in place
Watch yu speed limit, Or pólice in yu face.
But oonu inna hurry,
An oonu inna haste
Jus a grab plenty dollas
Inna dis ya rat race
Yu no realize sey dat tings no so nice
Protect de schoolers dem,
dem a fi wi special prize.
Transportation, Mi sey transportation
School transportation, Mi sey transportation.
PLAN NUMBER TWO
a telling you is true
Play wid de schoolers and yu corner really blue
Treat de pickeny dem wid plenty respect
Diginity, Courtesy and yu know de rest
All when inna yu face dem push up dem breast.
Responsibility is PLAN NUMBA THREE
Dress to impress an talk mek we see
Yu a one good driver wid nuff control
Drap de pickney dem right a school door
Transportation, Mi sey transportation
School transportation, Mi sey transportation.
Transportation, Mi sey transportation
School transportation, Mi sey transportation.
dracula (the real deal):
you know he’s been rollin’ in his coffin
since ejacula came & took over
the whole vampire scene---
as if it wasn’t hard enough to try and live off the blood of
moronic humans
for hundreds of years,
suddenly these pre-pubescent
high schoolers from “twilight,”
with their perpetually stoned eyes
(however, never actually
doing any drugs)
come along &
taint his image.
yes there was a time when vlad prevailed
when the people of his kingdom feared &
respected the man who fought to keep
wallachia free of the ottomans---
so much different was the man whose legacy,
illustrated for the west by stoker,
sat as a wonderfully unique novel delighting readers
for over a century,
taking its place next to shelley’s frankenstein on
the shelf & followed by the likes of
rice.
but as the saying goes, “all good things must come to
an end,”
and so strolled in ms. stephenie meyer
whose excrementitious mix of once interesting
vampiric lore & the quintessential teenage
stumbling over sexuality
(of which she claims: "I don't think teens need
to read about gratuitous sex.")
has become a new brew of
non-threatening pulp
which besides giving two actors who couldn’t
act their way out of a box high-paying careers
(as undeserved as the author’s),
has infected a whole generation of young women
who now have a brand new template for
abusive relationships.
meyer’s “abstinence ****” (as it is now
dubbed by many)
brings with it the inevitable message that women will
lose their whole sense of self in a relationship &
end up succumbing to the supposed societal norm
of having a child, that is,
a ludicrous vampire baby who will no doubt grow
up learning how to be abused just as the mother did---
this distressed damsel that stewart portrays
is so transparently based on meyer herself
that one would have to be intoxicated to a point of
blindness,
not to see it---
the real choice of a young woman to have an abortion &
not have a child with an abusive vampire
might make for a less “romantic” statement
than the twilight-drivel---
if only independence was as romantic.
Commencement exercises delight
never bore pre-schoolers in their flight
toward stage, full of bliss
for rewards* they can't miss
and promised graduation festive might.
A blessed graduation to class 2022.
*Ruth 2:12 The LORD recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the LORD...
June 3, 2022
4th place, "A funny Limerick - Any Theme" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin; judged on 6/19/2022.
Last night, Lisa, Peter, Leeza and I were in her father’s 50th floor study watching New York City. It’s a corner room with glass walls from floor to ceiling. He likes to watch the city himself and has a small, 5 seat sectional couch facing the view.
The left wall window looks across Hell’s Kitchen to exactly where Sully Sullenberger crash landed flight 1549 in the Hudson river (it was 3:31 pm and no one was home). The right window overlooks Central Park and Upper Manhattan. Lincoln Center, almost dead center of the corner, looks like part of a toy train-set.
The view is a wheeling, ever changing and mesmerizing panorama. Well lit ships, barges and boats move glacially against the ink black Hudson. Jets in expressway-like holding patterns (Newark Liberty, and Teterboro airports left window - LaGuardia, right window) blink, like waving angels, helicopters buzz below like insects and the traffic, far, far below, forms a living chain of red and white lights which can erupt with nugatory hues of police blue at any moment.
While we watch, we’re playing a game of “Would you rather.” It’s a game of situational trade-offs, like “Would you rather listen to the same 10 songs forever or have to watch the same 5 movies forever? Of course, most people say the movies - because they last longer and there would be fewer repeats.
We take turns asking these critical questions - pausing, occasionally, to point out things below.
“Would you rather be in a crowded elevator with a bunch of noisy high school students or pinned in with a bunch of judgemental, middle aged men? The girls chose the students, even though high schoolers can be mean. Peter chose to be with the men.
“Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with 5 million dollars?” We all chose love.
“Would you rather hike or camp?” Both were unpopular if they involved going to the bathroom outside - which creeps the girls out.
“Would you rather give up your computers or your pets (forever)?” THAT was a stressful one.
.
.
My movies: Clueless, Rushmore, Moonstruck, Shakespeare in love, Dr. Zhivago
The dance recital showcased
Hip-hop, jazz and yes, ballet.
The costumes and the music
Put much talent on display.
From pre-schoolers up to college,
All their hard work guaranteed
That they’d entertain us beautifully
And they sure did, indeed.
We were focused on our grandchild
And she nailed her every move,
Smiling ear to ear as we were
Watching her get in the groove.
For my first time in the theater
Since we first felt Covid’s bite,
I was thrilled with this production,
Such an absolute delight.
Shhh! We turned at the sound and beheld the stern scowl of the public library monitor as she admonished us. Steely eyed, with piercing glance, jaw set so tightly even her wrinkles retreated in fear. She seemed to be born for this job of hushing raucous grade-schoolers who had invaded the “ big “ library for the first time, under the pretext of doing their homework assignment together. This was our second warning. The third would mean expulsion and possible banishment for life.
Such threats, however, could not deter giggles from bubbling up inside two anxious sixth grade boys, who constantly prowled their lives for new adventures. Silence is for old people! Silence is unheard of for kids! It is the worst form of torture. The story, of course, ends with expulsion, but here is the all important epilogue:
The public library was large and rectangular with a grand main entrance. Directly across from this entrance, sixty feet away, was a rear entrance through which you might enter and exit to the parking lot. This was the entrance through which we had arrived.
We were escorted to the main entrance with a great show of force and a substantial demonstration of authority. We were almost physically ejected.
Undefeated and undeterred however, we waited five minutes before re-entering boldly through the main entrance. We strode briskly across the sixty feet to the rear entrance, to exit of our own volition. All the while trying desperately (and failing miserably) to maintain the certain pride that comes from exhibiting both grace and decorum.
Instead, we were giggling and busting up, wide-eyed and panic- stricken as we half staggered and half-ran into the everlasting history of our adolescence. Filled with our own brand of pride, one that was bestowed on all those who conquer any obstacle, be it mighty windmills or fearsome library witches
The last day we gathered we were three
Today was a supernatural one as we doubled in size
Multiplying the power of the message as we walked side by side
Down sidewalks, into restaurants, basketball courts, and street corners
It was a day like none other
103 we officially greeted as osmosis we blended into the streets
Does anyone know that the Messiah is coming?
Does anyone understand the significance of this message?
Repent! Live holy! Save food and water!
They will eventually place us under quarantine!
We warned them of the rapture
We warned them of the RFID
We had the most attractive T shirts--NO RFID 4 ME!
By the conclusion of the day we were floating in glory
As the Lord we had been professing allowed us to see
The progress of our labors—103!
Numbers count, people count
¾ million to go
We pray that the laborers will come to our side
Four women, two high schoolers in toe
By Gwendolen Rix
10-25-14
Early to rise
late to lay,
business minded people
who barely slay;
best of friends with traffic
who make their day.
Clicking show glasses of Ghana bons
with schoolers ready to buy;
Athletic traffic sellers who could
catch up a bus at 120
A metropolis
coloured with yellow molue and danfo buses
whose drivers are as audacious as the day;
chain smokers with throaty voices
impatient with co-commuters
when they cry "Mile2 Mile2!"
Energetic touts with special anthem
"owo mi da?"
Grubby fighters in yellow
ready to engage any fellow.
Happy market women in their sizes
buying and selling in faded wrappers
in loud cries of "langbe jinó o"
and hilarious children replying "I get belle o!"
Impatient road users in their dusty trekker shoes,
almost bumping into one-way bikers
who would often holler "oloriburuku oshi!"
Loud jaiye jaiye gbedu
with dragging notes
from roadside DJs
who are live for the party
and on Saturdays for the couples
A city with anaconda queues at banks
with sweaty odours from co-standers.
Konfam Okokomaiko pikin
#CeeJay
#BusyPenPoetry
Babies are droolers
Teachers are schoolers
Pitchers are foolers
Lawyers are duelers
Fishermen are spoolers
Faceters are jewelers
Needlers are crewelers
Kids are stoolers
Men are toolers
Women are rulers
This is written by a 12 year old student, I am the teacher
Soar Spirit
The crowd of middle schoolers
Screaming, yelling, chanting
like warriors
Preparing for battle
The signs are passed through the masses
Encouraging phrases held high over their heads
like soldiers marching off to battle
With imperial banners waving through the air
The points are tallied up at the end
Then suddenly...
A flood of yellow clad students stand up screaming
Smiles of rejoice pasted on their faces
Like golden warriors celebrating their victory
Nobody has a common name; we are named Apple and Broom.
Because movie stars did it, and they are glamorous and rich.
Apple is okay with it, Broom is dour though, full of gloom.
Why not Curtain or Couch? He often wonders or Matt or Mitch.
You think you have a problem? That is noting Waylin Eatstockings said.
He could not change his last name, and horrible teasing made his face red.
What about me? Asked a girl named Panty Waist McNeal.
Your name is a Godsend, a blessing, truly no real big deal.
Broom met Mop, who concurred with what the others expressed.
I am resigned to my fate, she said. I guess it’s time I confessed.
My sister is Sparkle, and my Brother is Puppy Dog Glows.
So Mop is not that bad in my family. My brother is Big Sugar Toes.
What ever happened to Dick and Jane? The old schoolers asked.
They looked through the phone book, deciding it was a big task.
There were Bed Pans and Axe Handles, and other weird crazy names.
I guess the times are wild now, whereas we grew up in mild Thames.