School Class Poems | Examples
These School Class poems are examples of Class poems about School. These are the best examples of Class School poems written by international poets.
~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 fraternal half-siblings with unknown identities~
that what you don’t know won’t hurt you
~that her mother had a secret child she gave to the church~
~that I am of Welsh descent~
that what you don’t know won’t hurt you
~that she wishes to see her only son more often than the present~
~that she dreams of her youth as she had to grow up too young~
that what you don’t know won’t hurt you
~that I should only save and not indulge in frivolities~
~that she has never left her hometown’s four walls~
that what you don’t know won’t hurt you
~that in her eyes, no one will ever be good enough for her son~
~that he, like her, never got to be what he was meant to be~
This day has finally come
Your future has now begun
School days are all you know
Into your dreams you will now grow
Looking back, so many years
Moving forward brings many tears
A whole new life lies in wait
It's up to you which destiny you create
Future beyond, you hold inside of your hand
Inspiration of dreams only you understand
Your journey into life has begun
Because your time has finally come
The class thing
I’m working class from the very beginning, my mother worked in a fish factory putting sardines
In the meantime, she went to work before me. My breakfast was standing in the kitchen, eating a slice of bread with margarine. if the school served breakfast, I ate there
I noticed early in life that those who spoke with educated voices got better treatment than we who spoke the street parlance
I tried to speak as the educated did, which made me tongue-tied and deeply shy, but it helped me to get an education of sorts
It was only after stumbling, falling, and reading that I came to see I hail from an honorable class that built our nation after World War 2
For talking too much in class, we've buttoned your lip.
If the teacher does ask you to talk, here is a little tip.
You unbutton your lip just like a button on your shirt.
The first few times, you may feel a little hurt.
So be gentle, so your lip ~ doesn't rip.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single stride,
Time dances swiftly, feels like yesterday’s tide,
When I first set foot on this school’s sacred ground,
Hope in my heart, innocence all around.
I remember the prayers, the anticipation so grand,
Wrestling with angels, like Jacob, I’d stand,
“God, if You don’t do it, no one else can,”
Pouring my heart out, like a desperate man.
Sleepless nights echoed with fervent pleas,
Disturbing the peace, bringing Jiri to her knees,
“Shut it down,” she would say, but only I could see,
What I sought from the heavens, my fervent decree.
It was a do-or-die affair, I couldn’t relent,
Longing to be a student, my heart was intent,
High school movies danced in my mind’s eye,
Unaware of the stakes, the truth cloaked in lie.
Not all that glitters is diamond, I’ve come to find,
I wish I had known, had prepared my mind,
Should I say I wasn’t ready? The answer’s unclear,
But the journey unfolds, and I’ll face what’s near.
If freshman year was aspirational
and sophomore year was unhinged
junior year was put up or shut up
and senior year is a dash to the finish line
This year’s on fast forward—and it’s for keeps
every to-do list has value-laden questions
things seem sharp edged, single use and intense
it’s all about trajectories and ‘landing spots”
Let’s wax poetic..
Produce now, or spend fury on thyself—all else is untenable
we’re past youth and ignorance—your honour’s at stake
Suitors call you by name, like well-acquainted friends
they took your measure—you’re beyond the mark of others
they seduce with money—the future brings liberty and noble deeds.
So don the the garland and prove thyself—take the field
join the battle—now’s the reward—aidless, perpetual toil
with every motion be right, it’s thy shunless destiny.
.
.
A song for this:
A Man of Great Promise by The Style Council
Headstart For Happiness by The Style Council
Early September rain
A dampened sidewalk,
Wet leaves lead me back
To blackboards and chalk
The wood of the desks
Cupboards along the wall,
Fresh, clean and simple
Newly awakens it all
The lessons learned
Countless memories made,
A moment forgotten ...
I'm back in fourth grade
The sharpened pencils
The crayon's shaving,
Add up to the many
Aromas worth saving
Pink erasers, notebooks
A new binder that year,
The scent of paper when
An open book is near
The paints, the markers
Linger on in my mind,
And those stickers ...
The scratch 'n sniff kind
Spaghetti ... or lasagna
Drifts down the hall,
From the lunchroom
Caused excitement for all
The chocolate milk ...
I would always pick it,
Came in paper cartons
And bought with a ticket
Quiet, sun - filled skies
Meant recess for us,
Remembered radio songs
Going home on the bus
New shoes laced up
Ready for mornings cool,
And all of it brings me
Right back to school.
Jump, thump, six graders jump
from stone to pebbly stone.
Chirp chirp the robin flies
Across the sky alone.
Crunch chunch the graveled feet,
Sh. . . shoo, a breathy whisper,
Hard, cold bench for a seat,
Rough wood, perhaps a splinter.
Puh, puh, puh, a boy spitting,
Mosquito slap
A girl is hitting.
Scarlet leaves on willowly stem
Dance in the crisp fall air.
I hear a chuckle.
Is it he
Playing over there?
The last bright orange, Autumn mums
Await their yearly demise.
A glance at my watch.
Oh, no, it’s time,
I’m thinking as I rise.
Fall day, sublime
God’s perfection.
What a task to study!
Until next time,
We’ll have to leave
Renewed, refreshed, unhurried.
~ Judy Bausch
Written: February 23, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If there are idiots in the room
Said the teacher, sarcasm in full bloom,
Silence stretched along,
Then a freshman stood strong,
To join you, sir, I'll hold elbow room.
The students all giggled and cheered,
As the freshman wit became premiered
With a smirk on his face,
He put him in his place,
A lesson in humor the class revered.
Amid a silent classroom,
A freshman broke through the gloom,
With a clever reply,
He caught everyone's eye,
A lesson in wit that made them all bloom.
The teacher, with a sneer on his face,
Asked the freshman to state his case,
Why not deem you a fool?
The kid said no hint school.
But hate to see you standing with no grace.
The class erupted in laughter and glee,
As the freshman words set them all free,
From the tension and stress,
Of the classroom's duress,
A lesson in wit that brought harmony.
In front of the class
she obediently stands
her fingers locked in cradled hands
with downcast eyes and trembling lip
she leaks a tear that sears her soul
then meekly voiced
and barley heard
she mumbles what she thinks the teacher wants.
We moved back into the residence yesterday - we were jubilant - and had a slumb-over last night, to celebrate our reunification. We woke up joyous, on the right side of the same bed (slumb-over), and we’ve been bouncing off the walls ever since.
We’re in the ‘settling in’ phase, restocking our Keurigs, getting our same-’ol furniture in the same-’ol places, picking up our books. In this liminal space, between sugarplums and sutures, our shrinking free-time will sag with increasing weight. Even last night’s normally fabulous martinis began to taste metallically laced with formaldehyde.
Once we’re settled in, our leisure will begin to have the tight, mangled fit of a borrowed jacket. “We’ve got to gear up.” Lisa said, just this morning and even as I type this, my eyes are flitting between my dog-eared copy of Gray's Anatomy and the mcat prep hub.
Classes start in 5 days. Free days burn bright, but disappear in a blink. Time is a precious coin.
.
.
*slumb-over = slumber party
With high-altitude ambitions,
they climb the hilltop to catch the signal.
They are lush and lovely
as the landscape behind them.
These children of the forest live
in the network-less valley of life.
Masked,
they lose their natural raptures,
cannot regain the warmth they lost in the school
padlocked by the pandemic.
They’ve been installed on the rocks
with their mobile phones.
While listening to the online class,
they forget
the giant elephant foot, tiger teeth, and slithering venom.
Frequent lightning frightens them,
yet they don’t switch off their passion for learning.
It drizzles now;
water wets their dress,
not their dreams.
Under the clouds,
they look forward to the light.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
AFTER CUMMINGS POEMS
These are poems I wrote after the poems of e. e. cummings...
teacher
by michael r. burch, age 16-17
teacher, take a look at my life,
for it has just begun
and u think that i am “misinformed”
merely because i'm young;
but the truth is often hidden
(what lies lurk behind ur eyes?)
and maybe Puff can tell u
where the Dragon flies.
teacher, take a look at my life:
urs is a dull-edged knife
(the white-hot blade long blunted).
now ur as cold as ice.
still, when u come to class,
act like u know it all,
for if u show insecurity,
surely wee will folderol.
I wrote "teacher" in either 10th or 11th grade after hearing the song "Old Man" by Neil Young. "Wee" is a pun, not a typo.
don’t forget
by michael r. burch
for Beth
don’t forget to remember
that Space is curved
(like your Heart)
and that even Light is bent
by your Gravity.
The opening lines of my poem were inspired by a famous love poem by e. e. cummings.
Keywords/Tags: e. e. cummings, teacher, teach, teaching, teachers' day, student, school, class, eduction, space, curved, gravity, heart, love
Caecilius est in forum
eyes closed as he spoke
looking as old, ash covered
as the language he was teaching
clinging on, barely, the class
drifting beyond windows
and tennis courts
what became of Caecilius
what became beyond windows
Tuesday lasses
we all have classes
get up and go
there’s no time to waste
join the flow
there’s no reason to wait
everyone’s hustling
coffee guzzling
bus shuttling
paper shuffling
syllabus assessing
apple-watch checking
there’s a fall-like feeling
making things more appealing
file off of the bus
and join the crush
trudging up science hill
thru the doors up the stairs
climbing in pairs,
in class, at last,
setup and relax.
I open my binder
and hand in the assignment
the guy beside me can’t find it.
and the TA moves on
the guy’s upset and I get it
he’s frantic and grim
I pretend I’m not watching him
as he ransacks his rucksack
too late, they’re taking roll
carelessness takes its toll