Best Student Poems
Law, English, business, and so on—
alas, are tiresome!
All the professors here go on
with a prime axiom.
A moldy, college campus where
knowledge and books abound,
freshmen and co-eds are clueless
and confused all around.
Mid-terms and finals I so dread
as the semester wends;
the pressure's on me to study
as my freshmen year ends.
School's oppressive this semester,
I'll see my old provost
and leave 'ere I rot and fester
to try a better post.
William & Mary's M.B.A.'s
are just worthless BS
(degrees from the home of “The Tribe,”
dross that just obsolesce).
I'll trill as “The Lithium-Laced Lyrist”—
as rhymes are my forté,
not tomes or stuffy scholastics:
for poesy's my métier!
I stand at the front of the exam hall, which is in total silence.
Grey desks stretch out in neat rows -
they remind me of gravestones in the local cemetery,
with white faced students their unwilling occupants.
The only sounds that can be heard are the pages being turned over
and the scrawling of pens on the paper.
Exam invigilators creep around the room like mice,
their hawk like eyes ensure no one is cheating.
Suddenly a booming fart breaks the silence -
it sounds like a machine gun that has been fired in short staccato blasts.
We can clearly see the perpetrator as his face is as red as a raspberry!
Muffled giggles are stifled and silence is once again restored.
A true story!
Noise Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
03~09~17
Brick by brick you build your house
To get married, go find a spouse
Step by step, toddlers start to walk
Sound by sound, infants prepare to talk
By trial and error some learn to cook
Page by page most read a book
Number by number, one counts and counts
To ride a horse, better learn to mount...
But how do you learn to write a poem
To teach a rookie, what do you show 'em
A metaphor, an simile, an idea, a theme?
~ It's not as easy as it might seem!
Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a bloody, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.
Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.
I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.
As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.
We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
It’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by Feist
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Actions versus words
Actions speak louder
Louder is figurative
Louder is expressive
Figurative language is effective
Figurative does not truly speak
Effective is deeply important
Effective is walking the talk
Important lessons must be demonstrated
Important lessons show you don’t tell you
Demonstrated lessons are shown like an exhibit
Demonstrated lessons than may be emulated
Exhibits can be observed
Exhibits are seen not heard
Observed actions are watched
Observed actions trump words
Watched love is full of verbs
Watched love shows it is an action word
Verbs are action words
Verbs help one’s mind create mental pictures
Words alone are soon forgotten
Words are remembered when taught with an action
Mental pictures formed in one’s brain
Mental pictures are recalled simpler than jargon
Brain stores memories
Brain loses words
Memories are potent tools
Memories recall meaning
Tools seen in use is vital
Tools talked about remain idle
Vital is performance
Vital is activity
Performance is an execution
Performance is a rendition
Execution creates stimuli
Execution shows not tells
Stimuli create neuron connections
Stimuli causes better recall
Connections boost like a catalyst
Connections fuel memory
Catalyst spark visuals
Catalyst evoke images
Visual aids are useful to teachers
Visual images are appealingly vivid
Teachers must display good character
Teachers may not just define it
Character is taught by example
Character in not lexically learned
Example set is learned in action ~
Example cannot be set with words
For Silent One’s Cliché Contest
3/28/2016
He’s never heard one lesson of this class,
but has to get a grade in history.
So he’s shown up at last, sure he will pass
the test that prior students say is easy!
He feels no need to read the test’s directions.
It uses letter symbols; he can tell
he only needs to trust his recollections
about the fifty states. He should do well!
He feels assured that Md has to be
for Maryland, and Missouri is Mo.
It’s very clear Nebraska is Ne.
But why No? Everyone should know that NO means NO!
Ca, Pa, In; a piece of cake!
Then he sees a few that are an utter
puzzlement or just a huge mistake!
Pb, he’s sure, is only peanut butter!
Sg might be Singapore, or else Saigon.
But how are those in U.S. History?
Fr for France? Just what is going on?
The cocky guy is feeling kind of queasy.
At last he thinks to go back to the start
and read the test’s instructions. . . O M G!
The test was on the periodic chart
of elements! Wrong class. It’s Chemistry!!!
Note:
*The correct answers of the test were really
Md for Mendelevium, Mo for Molybdenum,
Ne for Neon, No for Nobelium, Ca for Calcium,
Pa for Protactinium, In for Indium, pb for Lead,
Sg for Seaborgium and Fr for Francium (he was close on that one!)
As for me, I would stay in the history class!!!
Walking forward but still in the same place.
Moving quickly but still stuck in a small space.
Success seems so close but something I never taste.
Time continues but all efforts go to waste.
Reaching for goals in this strenuous race.
Going on hopelessly in this never ending chase.
Moving faster trying desperately to pick up the pace.
The monotony of struggle slapping me in the face.
Thinking of my future but all I see is a lost case.
Our Education's Who We Are
By Franklin Price
8/2/2016
Our education's who we are
And in what we do believe
How we deal with our emotions
How we give and we receive
Education shows the way
From the first breath to the last
Look to learning from the future
While remembering the past
When you're meeting someone new
Choose carefully your words
Education may not be the same
May think your thoughts are for the birds
When in doubt just listen
Words work when moving either way
There are many lessons to be learned
When we hear what others have to say
None of us knows everything
Please consider this next thought
Sometimes we are the teacher
At other times we are the taught
The trick is in determining
Which we are and when
To use our mouths or use our ears
When to stop or to begin
When we no longer listen
Think ours is the only voice
It's time to be a hermit
So others may rejoice
Wooden half-desk folded down into place
Textbook open, pencil poised
Einstein poster on the wall observing
Equations flying across the blackboard
Cumulonimbus clouds of chalk dust
Float across the classroom precipitating knowledge
I am an eager student with eyes fixed straight ahead
Teach me
Compare and contrast:
the Art of a sunset
the Astronomy of a total eclipse
the History of former warlords
the Architecture of new beginnings
the Geology of relationship tectonics
the Archaeology of buried dreams
the Poetry of first impressions
the Sociology of boy meets girl
the Physiology of a first kiss
the Calculus of two bodies in motion
I am an eager student at the Academy of You
Teach me
written 15 Jul 2021
Wonder, wander, list and lust
to learn anew until you bust.
Read, search, question and look
for paths you thought you never took.
A world awaits, new kingdoms come.
New skies, new roads, puzzles done.
Machines man made, a technocrat
to realize some oft-quoted stat.
Never too old, and not too late
to learn and learn for learning's sake.
So open heart and open mind
Seek on. Seek out. It's learning time.
wat to write wat to say..
feeling noise not to explain.......
tired of being someones always......
want to be myself for once....
in these days.....
getting busy lots of work.....
but cant escape the addiction of words.........
hearing advice not to write.....
start studying textbook wise.......
cant explain that noise of mind.....
cant stop thoughts of not feeling right.....
want to scream want to run.....
some where i can have some fun.......
fun of reading books in silence.....
fun of sharing feeling with violin...
no body i need by my side ......
my emptiness is finished with some books a side........
i want to read stores of fairy....
want here poems from nanny...
somebody give me a book without pathology.....
having pictures of humans.....
not any topic human psychology.....
want to write whole day....
not like this hiding my self in night dark place........
its not like i dont like my field....
i just want some time to live this feel......
i love when i can do something for others....
but expectation of others and the race of scholars...
make me depressed.......
these exam whenever they came just make me so tense..
and so dull.....
My cousin and I were dismayed
By the kids who were in her third grade
They had no answers to tell
Though they spoke very well
And knew how impressions were made!
They earned an A+ for endurance
For displaying remarkable effluence
They could babble all night
With no fact in sight
Nor any sign of congruence!
Oh, how wise we thought that we were
We could see their minds were a blur!
But now, mid-elections
And selfie confections
We see why they were so sure.
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck.
I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation.
“You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion.
I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before.
Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike.
Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.”
OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could kill, he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie.
By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed.
In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.”
I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
Be especially careful, you who would teach
Observe well the depth of your reach
A moment's slip, imperceptible, on your part
Rends the fabric of a pupil's heart
even her name evoked colorful images
Ginger November, a student of mine
quiet girl with ebony hair
a blessing to teach till family troubles intervened
divorcing parents of a Catholic schoolgirl
Ginger tried to keep the burden hid
enduring much hardship
struggling to cope
mid-semester exams evoked fear
to avoid failure, students had to pass
no student could copy another’s work
four different tests I’d prepared
quietly, I patrolled each aisle
students barely knew I was there
from behind I approached Ginger’s desk
to find her checking notes in her sleeve
if I’d adhered to rules
Ginger would not have graduated
this thought I couldn’t bear
knowing her hardships at home
“You cannot get an A,” I said after class
“but return here after school”
at three p.m. she slowly entered
shame clouding the beauty of her face
a different version of the test I handed her
“If you pass, you’ll get a 70;
when averaged with your other grades,
you can still make a ‘C’”
this “A” student earned her “C”
but cried while retaking the test
other teachers might have let her fail
I thought she needed support
for Ginger I broke the rules
knowing the pain she carried
what I did was surely wrong
but a second chance I felt she deserved
January 16, 2019
For Chantelle Anne Cook's "Second Chances"