Class Poems | Examples of Class Poetry

Ceiling of doubt

I was told the sky was endless,
But mine was a feather away
A low lid of shadows.
Every step echoes in a room
That was never meant to hold me.

Still, they say, reach higher.
But my hands find only fog,
And my faith slips through it
Like water through open fingers.

In despair, or deep sleep
I open my eyes
But I’m blind
Feeling my

First Class

Living under the influence
of a lifestyle so exotic,
wrapped up in appearance. 

An unrequited luxury,
I am the fire not the smoke show. 
Inspired on a budget. 

The purity of an orchid, 
that magic lies in hard to grow.
You have the only one. 

Such a lovely fragrant flower,
Italy’s perfect cannoli,
rich enough for my blood.

No cash but I’ve

First Class Love

As I awoke, eyes still laden,
dreaming of a pretty maiden.
Laying quietly, still in my bed.
It was real not just in my head.

As the light streaked through the window,
heart beating like a crescendo.
I felt the joy of love at last,
in this love, I’ll willingly bask.

The sharing, caring, and daring.
The glancing and trance like starring.
The thought came

The Final Word

We set upon a journey 
That would make us great
We decided to love our neighbors 
Instead of embracing hate

We opened our hearts to the poor
A roof over every head
We measured our speech
Considering what we said

Discriminating unacceptable 
Not afraid of history
Truth not a fabrication
Helping others our ministry 

We took back handouts 
The rich had enough
Money for

The Essence Of Teaching

Teach them how to discern and learn,
Don’t leave them helpless to crash and burn.
Teaching them just content, they learn it your way.
Teach them the process of learning today,
You give them a lifetime of learning every day.

Teacher as a Chemist

Sarah's need for order
    Marcus's wild imagination  
    Aisha's emotional intelligence
    Thomas's critical thinking

Bonding occurs
through shared purpose:
    "We sink or swim together"

Reactions happen
when elements combine:
    conflict ? resolution
    confusion ? clarity
    individual ?

Art Class

Art class:
where mistakes
become discoveries,
where mess
means
learning,
where every child
is
Picasso
and
Einstein
rolled into one
paint-stained
possibility.

Finger Print

He was deeply worried,
A problem lay within,
Buried in the depths of his heart,
Countless slaves in his possession.  
He wanted to control
All of them, he needed
A unique identity for each.
Suddenly, he struck upon
The idea of a fingerprint.

We shall be speaking Physics by the end of today

This is a problem growing in direct proportion
To the papers that we face very soon
In everyone’s speech a pronounced distortion
And half the class sleepwalking at noon
I’m here chiefly to bring to your attention
You may soon not understand us
Because I for one, others by extension
Shall be speaking nothing but Physics because

James is moving about too excited
Gerald

The Labubu Craze

Labubu grins, a curious work of art,  
Kasing Lung’s dream, brought forth from the heart.  
Pop Mart displays, collecting carts start,  
Lisa’s embrace gives trends a new chart.

People of faith, consider your part,
Not every craze should capture your heart.
Fame’s shining lure can pull us apart,
Discernment and wisdom must always take part.

Enjoy what

Old Shaftesbury Woman

Concrete dust drifts like sand across a coastal path.
An old woman battered with facial features that hung on her face, 
Disconnected and hanging. 
She leans forward in her blumonge, waterproof, unwashed nylon flares from Matalan. 
They ruffle in the wind as she looks out withdrawn onto the A350.

Her gaze is muffled by a sheen of

What you don't know won't hurt you

~that she saw her mother as a child lying strewn on the kitchen floor black and blue~
~that the taste does not matter only that it should be sufficient~
 
               that what you don't know won’t hurt you 
 
~that she’d let those who don’t know her home feel the fight stuffed in her school blouse~
~that she has

Neatness and Godliness

Every picture I’ve seen of you as a child,
You wear your hair in plaits.
A stern middle parting and two dark brown braids
Falling down on each shoulder. 
A maypole’s dream.

You would do your best to wash them when you could,
When shampoo was available,
Or even in the single, small bathroom.
You would vigorously scrub your face too 
With

Hopeful mind

Time's gone, religion's in decline,
Why don't we care about this line?
Used by tyrants, the poor consider it fate,
Do they care about the poor's state?



The night of darkness started soon,
But still shining the brightest moon.
Tyrants swimming in a pool,
Poor watching, feeling cool


Different religions, different rules.
Poor confused, but they are fools.
Horror dreams, horror thoughts,
They are holding charity

Class Reunion

Six besties had agreed
at graduation,
pinky swore,
to meet ten years later
no matter where they'd be,
come what may.

And here they were finally:
Gayle, Suzie, Diane, Donna, Lucy, Michelle,
together at last from across the country.

They had kept in touch through facebook
as much as their busy schedules allowed.
All had gone off to university or college.
Some had since married, some had

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