Best Schoolschool Poems
*Sung to the tune of Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” Intended to be taken
humorously.
“When are you gonna grow up?
It is in jail you will land
You’ll have to stay after class
And I’ll be talking to your old man”
“You know you can’t hold me forever
The last school bus is now due
You can’t rap my knuckles with your ruler now
Stand in my way and I’ll just run through
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were cruel
The Catholic school’s finally closing
The lunchroom’s stopped serving gruel
“I’m taking that bus, might never get off
Don’t want to face my Dad’s wrath
Oh, I’ve finally decided to free myself
And set out on my own path
So nah, nah, nah…”
“How can you earn a living?
You can’t even spell your name
You’ll be required to take some remedial courses
And stop playing silly head games”
“Maybe you’ll get a new convent
I hear there’s some room in Brazil
Students there might appreciate
A no-nonsense sister with a voice shrill
So nah, nah, nah…
“So goodbye, St. Joseph’s School
Where the ‘Sisters of Mercy’ were crude
The altar boys have been set free
The priests are no longer lewd
“I’d like to stay, watch them raze it
The site with torture imposed
Where skeletons still hide in the closets
Nevermore to be exposed
So nah, nah, nah…”
*For John Heck’s “Dear John” contest.
Those of us who attended St. Joseph’s just learned the school is being closed.
Although a good education was provided, some students were beaten there repeatedly.
I feel a good education was provided, but they went overboard with discipline.
I heard it so many times,
“Books are man’s best friends,”
Not just that I wrote an essay of 300 words in my secondary school,
Yes I read it in the book, ‘How to write impressive and ideal essays?’
Honestly speaking, it was out of no choice,
As the other topics were difficult to attempt.
I grew up thinking, “Reading would never be my cup of tea,”
And it held true for many years to be.
I would see people around, glued to books and deriving pleasure,
Also it was my father’s favourite activity in times of leisure.
During college I had the company of passionate readers,
In their discussion on books I was just a listener.
They often would talk about new and fascinating book they had come across.
But somehow didn’t much bother and I dint assume it be a great loss.
Deep in my heart I had planted a seed,
One day even I should develop a habit to read.
I have to admit I had even put, ‘Reading’ as my hobby in my C.V,
For it is considered to be an imposing quality.
I joined a school as a teacher,
I had to read stories to children,
I considered it to be a part of my job though found them somewhat interesting,
Still didn’t take it very seriously and found it to be alarming,
Until I got married and when my husband was not there,
I had lots of time to spare,
I don’t how and why I picked up a book,
It made me smile and I was happy for the decision I took.
I learnt innumerable things from the books I read,
‘Hats off’ to all those writers my heart said.
Then I realize that in books’ company one never feels lonely,
I am convinced for it’s the best hobby undoubtedly.
Finally it has happened to me and I am glad,
I owe it to my school and students I have had.
School is cool
I need it always
august to june
i walk through the halways
keep my head up
ask when i get stuck
do the work
but don't be a dork
If you put an answer that you know is wrong
Than your groundation is very long
Even Though it is Boring
In School don't go snoring
Now don't be a fool
Because School is cool
One afternoon while cleaning the cupboard,
encountered my old school magazine,
in a flash came all the feelings,
the intimate feeling when we were
togetter, playing,enjoyed studing.
sharing our precious time and cheerful memories togetter,
make my heart light as the beautiful feather.
you know all good things which come to an end,
I hope our collections of mements dont come to an end,
because it belongs to both our quiet moments and tensions.
i really detested the moment when we had to part,
as it will leave emptiness in my heart...
I am proud of my school; which are having at least may be a golden and silver rules.
principle strict and fair, who guided us every time.
teachers who were strict and very just,
who nutured knowledge in us,
it signifies peace and love to all,
isnt that more than enough?
centpercent results came into limelight, our school isnt it very bright?
caste and creed of each and everykind,
had no place for discrimination in the mind.
jealousy and falseness thrown out of mind,
love and share u shall find
with our little hearts greeting always kind.
in activities we were best,
applauded we got with fill zest.
trophiees,awards,medals and cups,presented to us.
its the same old school which i stepped out 7yrs ago,
gone are those beautiful memories,
shall cherish them forever...
DORIS, YOU CAN DRIVE MY BUS!
Doris, I’ve been wantin to ride your bus.
Ain’t asking much, so don’t be making a fuss.
Thank God you’re not driving the short one,
‘cause riding with you has always been fun.
Been riding school buses since my feet would dangle.
Long and yellow add wheels, it’s a rolling rectangle.
We’d be rockin’ and rollin’ to music like it used to be.
Forget the belts; I’m jumpin’ seats, need to be free.
I bet you’re thinking I was born to be unruly,
if it got out of hand, Doris tossed yours’ truly.
Shifting those gears while watching the mirror,
spitballs we’d launch hardly got near her.
Once we got to school all safe and sound,
door swung open, off to boredom we’d bound.
We looked forward to her ride every day,
she knew it’s important to let kids play.
Ending this ditty to stay on her good side.
Doris no doubt, we had a “GOOD RIDE!”
*Written in fond memory of the best school bus driver I’ve ever known. Oh, so many years
ago!
The busy hours at nine,
running at the last minute.
Those never ending classes
now i miss them in every
minute..
Give me back my school days
is the only thing to say.
Let me go to school for once,
that's the only prayer i pray.
The heap of lunch boxes
and the rush for the recess
break,
give me back my school days
is the only wish to make.
Last night study and crying for
buddy,
i really miss them all
teachers question and empty
faces
makes me laugh when i recall
getting a star or a zero
makes no difference right now,
i wanna have my school days
back
please give it to me somehow...
It’s beginnings that are magical.
On the first day of school the dew
Smells like new life and the dawn air
Is heavy with peace,
As you carry your brightly colored
Backpack, light with sharp pencils
In its belly. Eyes droop but come alive
As the bus pulls up yellow,
Clean. The walls of the school have been repainted
With laughter and old faces
Made new. Soon we won’t smell
The dew anymore.
The air will be heavy with
Exhaustion, and the weight of
Our books, the world.
Pencils will grow dull,
The walls will be plain,
Ordinary. It’s beginnings that are magical.
The process is unremarkable, but leads
To a new beginning.
So I wake up every morning at five thirty,
Have to take a shower, I feel so dirty.
Get dressed and off I go to the bus,
Every morning tired and sad but I
Don’t make a fuss.
Have to get to the bus stop early and wait,
Don’t really mind accept for the people
In their cars, they are the ones I hate.
Finally arrived, a half hour before school starts,
Sit down and “Face” walks by and farts.
Turn on the computer and pull out my books,
And watch them all give “Face” dirty
looks.
You see “Face” rides a bike to school
But we all know it’s a cover
for her “witch’s” broom. And
that’s because of the way
she acts in the classroom.
Geez all she seems to do it itch and nag
No one cares “Face” your just an
some old hag.
At least there isn’t a dull moment here,
But if I get annoyed
I’m gonna flick her in the ear.
Form:
So I wake up every morning at five thirty,
Have to take a shower, I feel so dirty.
Get dressed and off I go to the bus,
Every morning tired and sad but I
Don’t make a fuss.
Have to get to the bus stop early and wait,
Don’t really mind accept for the people
In their cars, they are the ones I hate.
Finally arrived, a half hour before school starts,
Sit down and “Face” walks by and farts.
Turn on the computer and pull out my books,
And watch them all give “Face” dirty
looks.
You see “Face” rides a bike to school
But we all know it’s a cover
for her “witch’s” broom. And
that’s because of the way
she acts in the classroom.
Geez all she seems to do it itch and nag
No one cares “Face” your just an
some old hag.
At least there isn’t a dull moment here,
But if I get annoyed
I’m gonna flick her in the ear.
Form:
The School Bell
I can remember the school bell,
Rising early on an August day.
It chimed half past six,
Beneath the last of summer and its rays.
My love came unbound in its meritorious tale,
Of lines filled of sailors and their sails,
And the trails of scouts
With whistle and bell in hand,
Looking for places new and unfound.
The schoolchildren lined one by one
For a game of dragonfly in good fun,
And I ran beneath the idle sun.
Tugging upon my pack,
At its end, from its cumbersome rack.
There are lessons pulled out along the seats,
Set and placed in every direction,
The students set to pen and pencil to read,
And the sound of it begins,
The bell, that is, crisp, trimm’d, and clean.
And the last of its day,
When it all came down and complete,
My pack remained,
Bound and intact.
The numerous tasks and equations
Complete and exact.