Teacher came
Student said, " John shot
A bird", Mrs.
Smith". she said,
"I don't see no dead bird," Sid
Classwork continued
Teacher asked,
After teaching them
To write by
A certain
Writing style expository.
"Can you write on snakes?"
Little boy
Raised hand, "It might bite".
Teacher said,
"Set me up
For that answer, I know that".
After laughter ends____
I awoke hoping for a golden day
I’m easily dazzled, I suppose.
But it’s cool and overcast in Paris.
They’re limiting the sunshine today
because of global warming.
How can global warming bring a thousand harms
if it can’t even cook a turkey?
I love this after-Christmas week.
The crowded activities and Hallmark card events are over
but we still have the sunny moods and infectious vibes
(and no classwork).
My parents flew in last night.
It’s a holiday miracle.
What’s better than running into your mother’s arms
for a, “Mom-MEEEEEEEEEE!” hug.
Joy is a land unto itself, dizzying and potent.
“Your hair,” she said, almost immediately
- confiscating my adulthood with ease.
I‘ve missed her interrogations
and itchy, absorbing interest.
Re-entering childhood can be emotionally wearing
I needed a skin of those shuttle tiles for reentry.
The funny thing is, I get to watch my momma smother
under Grandmère’s beam-fixture gaze.
It seems awfully bright in here - far below the overcast.
.
.
Songs for this:
Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Sirens
Conexão by Amber Mark
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The rains of spring have formed a clear, deep pool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The red buds, almost hard to comprehend
Adorned in pink and ruby colored jewels
The trail is lovely here around the bend
The crocuses, in purple, to what end?
The foliage, now greening, keeps them cool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
The robin showing off to lady friend
The salamander naps beneath toadstools
The trail is lovely here around the bend
Mere form eclipsed, here, beauty far transcends
Design revealed to all but blinded fool
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
So much to take in as I slowly wend
My way through classwork not revealed in school
The trail is lovely here around the bend
God's handiwork, so delicately penned
—————
FIFTH PLACE WINNER
For the ‘An Original Villanelle Contest’ Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Written 02/25/2022
VALENTINES DAY
A rose proposed
in his hand
so excited
for school
tomorrow
tomorrow came
the same as before
with alarms
and classwork
and annoying looks
the alarm rang
twice
and he knew it was strange
in his hand
a pale rose
with thorns
the rose proposed
upon its knees
before it died
in his hand
2/16/2018
I long to be, in my duty, like everybody else
I long, to have in the notion of others
A good reputation!
Why, being an educator seemed
Before I jumped into its pool
A thing so simple
Why, dealing with children
Had, after all, always been a piece of cake!
Children, thought I,
Would be obedient
And polite
More, they would be keen to learn
And have, for me
Respect accompanied by a mild fear!
I expected not to be unable to handle a class
I expected not to be retorted
To be refused
To meet with homework and classwork
Not done
And to care not if I reprimand for such
I expected not to meet with rude behavior
I expected not to lose all my energy
My hair and my voice
In a career which I thought would be
As easy as two plus two makes four!
Pray, I do know I am made of sensitivity
I do know I have not a loud voice
And that I speak softly
I do know that I have no children of my own
Still,
I consider myself not unexperienced when dealing
With such!
I long to be made of savoir faire
I long to be like the rest
I long to be good at what I do
To earn my living!
Contest name: The Poet's Ache
Sponsor: Greg Barden
Written on 30 July 2017
Embrace the new technologies,
acquiring knowledge as your goal,
in the realm of search and seizure
feed your mind, refresh your soul.
Social Media and bloggers,
irritants in cyber space
will whore themselves for your attention,
waste your time, usurp your place.
In my youth, before the outbreak,
schooldays were much simpler then,
homework, classwork, all handwritten,
essays done in fountain pen.
You fire up your fancy lap tops,
Facebook, Twitter, Cyber Talk,
while I give thanks for ink wells, pen nibs,
blotting paper, sticks of chalk.
School is actually a fun place to be
To learn, enjoy and finally be free
For advisors and students to come together
To share secrets and tell us how are life can be better
But classwork, projects, tests and more
Is one thing I am positive I won't adour
You have to get a higher grade on this and that
To be the scholar that the principal would attract
For this there's a reason and always will be
We need our education to accomplish our dreams
To be a lawyer, singer, teacher and more
I learned that this is something I definitely won't ignore
That school can be rough and it can be hard
But never give up and you would achieve that far
Embrace the new technologies,
acquiring knowledge as your goal,
in the realm of search and seizure
feed your mind, refresh your soul.
Social Media and bloggers,
irritants in cyber space
will whore themselves for your attention,
waste your time, usurp your place.
In my youth, before the outbreak,
schooldays were much simpler then,
homework, classwork, all handwritten,
essays done in fountain pen.
So, fire up your fancy lap top,
Facebook, Twitter, Cyber Talk,
while I remember ink wells, pen nibs,
blotting paper, sticks of chalk.
My childhood was fun,
tough and exciting.
My childhood was one
where there wasn't much fighting.
This was my childhood.
My childhood was filled
with family and friends.
My childhood was filled
with love that tied up loose ends.
This was my childhood.
My childhood came
with a grandmother that cared.
When she left me
I remembered all the times we shared.
This was my childhood.
My childhood was filled
with classwork and homework.
My childhood was filled
with parents who hated work.
This was my childhood.
My childhood was filled
with fun in the hood,
and food that tasted like Campbell's,
'Umm Umm Good! '
This was my childhood.
My childhood was filled
with tricycles and bicycles.
My childhood was filled
with popsicles and Dill pickles.
This was my childhood.
My childhood was filled
with lots of happy holidays.
Holidays that aren't
just the same nowadays.
This was my childhood.
Now my childhood
has become nothing but memories,
But all the good times
will live on within me.
This was my childhood.
It starts when we are young
crwling
standing
walking
talking
carrying on to school
homework
classwork
graduation
college
moving fast and furious in your lif
apartment
job
marriage
house
family
just vwhen you bthink its about to end
it slaps you in the face once again
if you haven't figured it out
let me go right ahead and give it a shout
"WORK"
My Class of Love
She gave me the chance to learn
How to love romantically in her class
Fail this class was against my will
She was my target, my golden goal
Writing love poem to her was my classwork
My quiz evaluated from my romantic elegance
During our intimate date, that wasn't easy to get
For my mid-exam, I received a sweet wet kiss
As time passing by, my motivation increased
I felt lucky and happy to be under her charms
Our adventure in the philosophy of love was sacred
We left the earth to fly in the world of passionate love
I took the result of my final exam in a isolate hut
During our camp in a countryside of Tennessee
She attracted me like a magnet, her eyes tore my heart
I spent an entire night by sucking her sweetness
Not my child in school acting like disobedient clown . When I'm not around . The
teachers telling me this and that. How could this be? When they don't act like
this around me.
Not my child in school in and out of their seat disrupting the class. How long will
this last? Do I come to the school and bring correction with me? My child is a
reflection of who I am.This is why correction is in place. Take your pick at the
method that is used.My child will not abuse the teacher with excuses of of why
they can't behave. A rod of correction will drive this foolishness out.
My child will not be an embarrassment to me; acting like there's no home
training.My child will do their classwork , pay attention, and follow along.Coming
up to the school will no longer be an issue.
My child is in school obeying all the rules. The parents and the teachers must
work hand and hand;and the community please help when you can. My child and
your will have a good start with helping hands that care.
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.