I’m too young and too happy
according to my ‘infectious agents’ professor
and is he ever wrong?
Four of us pressurized med-school freshmen
(Chloé, Emma, Léah, and I) who have become
fast friends, were twisted together in a seated circle,
laughing, cutting up and sharing our deepest thoughts
as the TAs handed back several quizzes that had been
slowly and torturously graded over the past month.
Isn’t it bad enough that studies have reordered us,
and made our days and nights as one?
Must we also wear our spirits low? We cannot.
Humor is our gentle requital
Laughter is the impossibility powerful sound
that slays worry and common sense
That educated man may spend his authority as he wishes
but well-timed delights can’t always be scheduled.
.
.
Songs for this:
Me & You by HONNE
Jamirobeegees Mashup by Pomplamoose
.
.
He said "you're too young and too happy" with a twinkly smile
but I treated it seriously in this poem. ??
Thanksgiving weekend was really sweet.
Time to head on back to college.
Fun's over... think Classes & Homework.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
Salsa classes
I learned to dance at
family and friend’s parties.
I learned by watching.
Not very structured.
When I dance with my husband;
he complains that I don't let him lead.
My mom taught me,
women should be in control.
I danced like this for many years.
At 50, following my soul's desire.
I took my first salsa class.
What a surprise!
Maybe,
my husband was right.
Just let the other take the lead.
Let go and flow.
Perhaps. I can change
my unconscious dance
into a more harmonious
sensual movement
I have rituals
for the first day of class
like a superstitious athlete
they get me into a good frame of mind
where I feel like a juggernaut who has total agency
and I don’t need to seek validation
It’s a moment in time
I have all my books—stacked on my desk
they look serious—very nuts and bolts
I’ve beaten the syllabuses to death
to try to figure out where my power lies
learning is all energy, it’s a marathon
it’s hard to sustain that for the entire semester
so not switching off, now and then, is unrealistic
Still, I’m comfy in in a classroom (I’m a senior)
Good students are just a little weird.
I say hello to the moon so she won’t feel alone
I say ‘cheers,” before taking a shot of mouthwash.
If I lose my ID, my lucky pencil or something, I call out, “treasure hunt!”
When treating everyone to grubHub I ask, ‘the usual?’ When we’re done I ask, ‘how was everything this evening?’
If I see a random girl looking fabulous, I tell her, because if I get complimented, I think about it for a week.
.
.
A song for this:
Thetan by Single Gun Theory
5/4/2024, Vaishali, Bihar
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity,
And pain is a class identity again.
The color of people is cast
Into white, brown, and black,
All shades of the same soil.
People born as kings, servants, or watchdogs.
I live in a village of divided lands—
Bhumihar fields, Mallah shores, Nunia, Teli, Sonar,
Brahman, Rajput, split like crops on the farm.
I belong to the Nai—
A class of servants, kings, and watchdogs, all in one.
The air hums with stories of the Nanda Dynasty,
Pride wrapped around our class like armor.
Yet, sorrow lingers in the gaze of those
Whose eyes are heavy with dirtied dreams.
I live in a society where identity is seen
In color, cloth, and words—
Old roots buried deep like the broken tree
By Abhishek Pushkarini,
Which falls, like us, at the feet of the upper class.
My tearful words often seem lost,
As each passing day etches more pain into hearts.
But these small hands carry the strength to resist
The cruel stares of a classed society.
In a society where I live,
Pride is a class identity.
If you stopped attending paid classes
Would you sell off your reading glasses:
Gladly, speedily drop out if school,
When every scholar is thought a fool?
Are you the type, who would rather bend
To an existing insisting trend:
Hang your helpful business-like manner,
Because you have changed your shop's banner?
Then, you will have become Igneous Rock,
Whose hardness one should fearlessly mock...
From the Good Sages we venerate
"Whatever is odd incinerate"
Only the right trends may control one:
When the wrong ones do, you have not won.
Open Word Classes
In language there are classes, we are told,
Of words both new and old.
Nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs too,
And among them, open word classes few.
Nouns, the names of things and beings,
Verbs, actions that give them meanings.
Adjectives, describing how things are,
Adverbs, telling when and where they occur.
But in the open classes, there is more,
Words that keep growing, like an open door.
Interjections, expressing emotion pure,
Conjunctions, connecting clauses sure.
Prepositions, showing position and relation,
And articles, signaling a specific sensation.
These open classes, ever-changing and free,
Reflect the dynamism of language, you see.
For new words can be added with ease,
As culture and technology shift and tease.
And though rules and structure remain,
Open classes expand, our language domain.
So let us celebrate the open word classes,
For they reflect how language amasses.
A rich and diverse range of expression,
For us to use in endless succession.
By Otieno Elvis Gikoi
THE ELO’S POETRY
I was diagnosed with double-pneumonia on the 15th and classes started on the 17th. I’m already getting nagmail about assignments, yea! I’ll be behind and virtual for a while. It started as a rhinovirus, honestly, I don’t even remember being around a rhinoceros, but he trampled me good. (Hmm, song title there?)
I’m feeling better today, I can read without the room spinning - heck, I even managed to write this, but a new, implacable nemesis - low-energy - is here, like Lebron James, to check me when I attempt something over ambitious, like picking up my chemistry book. At least I got to stay in my room.
My roommate Sunny’s so angry with a certain girl that she even thinks it’s hilarious. Her creative, revenge beast has been awakened and her feelings are practically colors in the air. It’s entertaining. I think if she saw her now - well, let's say Sunny takes boxing in the gym every morning. “I’m over her already,” Sunny announces, stomping around her room, trashing all reminders on contact.
Be careful out there, people - if love doesn’t get you the rhino might.
.
.
nagmail - mail about late assignments, class papers due, surveys
Father’s Day has come and gone,
There was a card and a gift,
Mother’s Day is never done,
An only child works in shifts.
Paint by numbers, whitewashed souls,
The abstract always less not more,
Blacktop shoes worn down to soles,
Art will ignore work obscure( for sure).
No point to shine such whitewashed light,
I know the truth, past loon, past goon,
A blue hue gates from a black light,
We see only night this side of the moon.
Blades of grass grow green as Grace,
Sun and dirt and kids at play,
Time and place get lost in space,
Mud and rain wash away the day.
The super powerful wealthy elite,
does none of the work, but keeps all of the money,
reaping all of the benefits,
without paying any taxes.
The middle class does all of the work for very little money,
pays all of the taxes while enjoying very little benefits if any.
The poor are just there to scare the crap out of the middle class,
to keep them showing up at those jobs for as long as their lives last.
Poor is my life my place
Class is my social cross to bare
As doors i know will rather be
slammed in my face not opend
up for the likes of i to enter
Membership denied call yourself
green so why are you wasting
perfectly good paper
So if this be my legacy
estate or inheritance i leave
or pass on to my children
Given that one's station is
set on stone and can not be
risen above
Must i or shall i die judged
as good or a bad father
Did my children not deserve better
Or should i even had them in
the 1st place or was it a selfish
choice on my part
But then again money can't buy
or trumps love
He wakes very morning
to trudge through his day
a labor of love
or just bills to pay?
it seems that forever
he's been burdened with debt
and retirement a time to reflect
or regret?
She awakes every morning
to labor all day
kids are in day care
there's really no choice
no other way
the bank accounts empty
and pay day seems so far away
I think that this government
has lost the plot
think of the people
who ain't got a lot.
There is now something to interest most children,
If they want to take up art for a living.
They have a choice between,
The art of intimidation,
The art of fabrication,
The art of manipulation,
The art of indoctrination.
They can learn how to make a good forgery
They can learn how to cook for a mob,
They can learn how to beat the system,
They can learn how to sell false hopes.
They can even learn to create real art
And surprise us all.
"Miss Stokes, what do you think Pip was thinking?"
Uh-oh. I possibly should not have pretended to be my twin today.
I am taking her classes, pretending I am sick, rather than she.
This is 7th grade English, and I have not even heard the word
Great Expectations because my twin hates English as much as I
despise math.
In my English class we are tearing sentences apart and doing boring tree things out of them.
Um....
"I think I have to go to the bathroom!" I yell, clutching myself, running out of the classroom.
My classmates laugh.
Some have been laughing through math and science too.
They all know which twin I am.
It is only the teachers who cannot tell us apart.
I return to see a pop quiz face down on my sister's desk.
The first question is about Pip with enough space to write
sixteen paragraphs.
I begin cautiously.
"Pip is a wonderful dog," I write.....
Happy New Year! Just wanted to drop you a quick note
regarding next week’s Bible Fellowship Group. We are
continuing our study of the book of John and our next
lesson will focus on these verses: Jesus Speaks about
God’s True Children (John 8:31-8:47) and Jesus States
He is Eternal (8:48-8:59).
As you prepare, focus on these three questions:
1) What does this scripture tell us about God/Christ?
2) What does the scripture tell us about man?
3) How can we apply this scripture to our lives?
For those of you who are remote or can’t make it;
take some time to review these verses this week.
Look forward to seeing you. Yours in Christ,
Kim and Steve
Putting this on Poetry Soup so I can print it out.
Jim Horn
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.