Best Schooltime Poems


Premium Member Senior Year

It began on a high note
Dreams of a New Frontier
Those dreams were shattered in Texas
In the Fall of the same year
Christmas time was solemn
Before the storm there was the calm
We saw them escalate a war
Sending our young to Vietnam
It was a vibrant time to be alive
A good invasion hit our shore
The British sent their music
Our lives would be changed forever more
The times they were “a changing”
Was it better, was it worse
There was no time for apathy
Was it a blessing or a curse
In June came graduation
The fulfillment of our dreams
The Four Seasons sang about a Rag Doll
We were introduced to the Supremes
Now that our senior year was over
And we would go our separate ways
There remained a bond to hold us
Until our dying days
Some went off to college
Not knowing what’s in store
Almost all would serve their country
Some went off to war.
Form: Narrative

A Student's Folk Tale

Stacked with books, assiduity elsewhere
Exams knocking at hand
Yet the Friday get-go
And final cut buff. 

Night at sea and morning sloth
The evening prowl and buddy talkies
Escaped tuition and soul mate bask
Brainsick few moments
Ended with a break up.
Hearsays then bared
Eyes filled up and a hebdomad hush.

So called a fresh beginning 
They say it agone.
Acquaintances befalls
Yet the same story echoes.

Admittance time and outcome appraised 
Enough with bailiwicks, now the time to revel.
Late night parties and dearly-won snooze
Weekdays lessons and awaited weekend multiplex.

A secret dope and babbling out,
Desktop eroticas and tormented psyche 
Fags anarchic and creative smokes
Bohemian lifestyle
But forthcoming ruination.

A sudden consequence and fledged days
Thousand and one nights 
Of a student’s time of life.
Form: Bio

Inside the Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary

Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth 
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,

this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time

emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing 
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train

while kibitizing with longfellow 
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits, 
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie

tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and

leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century

tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly

analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,

worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor

revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven

soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath

to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy

of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Form: Narrative


Mundanity Doth Not Spell Ennui

Nor do I feel free
akin to noble savage 
(gratis to Jean Jacques Rousseau)  
completely unfettered, and able lee
to fend off unseen banshee,
comically swatting for all to see,

though today February Eighth,
2019 quite similar (i.e. dime
a dozen) to many previous twenty
four hour blocks of time,
herewith metering poetic testimony

hashing out another rhyme,
I feel considerably less mindful,
as if complicit in a major crime,
(yes absolutely more remorseful
regarding entire lifetime

of indifference) prime
err rilly linkedin into call lapsed
shoulder shrug, shrink into self, or
other convenient pantomime
schizoid personality disorder diagnosis,

asper this pronounced emotional detachment
more painfully clear climb
ming pyramid of self actualization -
engendered through longtime
therapy in tandem with

half dozen prescription medications
and cathartic, holistic, therapeutic...pastime
writing poems delving into scarred psyche
aftermath years burned by quicklime
writhing, when aware impacted me now

evincing unrepentant blank affect
behavior couched, established, fostered
during in utero stage, characteristics
manifested by full termtime
tidbits shared by parents chime

how my body tensed
like tightly wound coil before schooltime
reinforced destructive coping skills
resident in this older chap
aroused during bedtime
poking, seeping, violating...dreamtime.
Form: Narrative

School Days

>>>>>>>>>>>>>My first years in school went really well,
                             Nuns were our teachers , and i though that was swell.
                             To start out the morning, we would all say a prayer,
                             Then we would be asked to please take a chair.

                             Religion was our first subject of the day,
                             Questions were asked , and we had to know what to say.
                             Studying the night before always seem to help,
                             But boy if you forgot, you got a little tug on your scalp.

                             Spelling was next, and i got into trouble,
                             I had forgotten how to spell the word bubble.
                             I was told to print it out many times,
                             But as i got started , the bells started to chime.

                             Recess time was here, and we went outside to play,
                             Then back in classes to hear what the teacher had to say.
                             History was next , though i dident understand,
                             Why i had to know things about Japan.
 
                             Science i liked, and rarely got into trouble,
                             I was extra careful with chemicals and dident break any bubbles.
                             Soon it was time to head for home,
                             Have some supper and then study in our room.
© Alan Fitz  Create an image from this poem.

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