School Didactic Poems | Examples
These School Didactic poems are examples of Didactic poems about School. These are the best examples of Didactic School poems written by international poets.
This is no rock ‘n roll fantasy
Here is no place for chastity
This is where the hard life is at
Not just for any brat
Burning like a hellfire
They fail to inspire
They despise authority
Even though they live in inferiority
Most gang members did not finish school
They prefer a life of ridicule
They gave up school
Making each one a fool
A life of crime
Like living in slime
Crime has become a past time
Like in war time
Most gang members die young
Living a life so unsung
Yet still so young
With lives so far-flung
Living life so fast
Just getting past
They think life is a blast
Alas their lives have passed
They will be forgotten
Their lives were rotten
Talking about ill-begotten
Now they in the grave forgotten.
COLLECTION
VIDUAGE
Tall
nettles-
the dutch hoe
rusting in the
shed.
Lanterne #5
a
sea mist
rolls inshore-
daydreams deluge
me
Lanterne#18
Blind
alleys
so often
have the deepest
ruts.
Lanterne 3
By
a stream
so shallow-
stoops a willow
tree.
Lanterne 177
May
blossom-
confetti
dancing on the
breeze
ART SCHOOL
The
secret
of seeing-
knowing how to
see
RISING STAR
A
life in
the fast lane-
five minutes of
fame.
as a LANTERNE ALMANAC
WINTER
in
anger-
whips up the waves,
pounds the shingle
shore
SPRING
in
action-
brings to life
and feathers its
nest
SUMMER
so
lazy-
rests the soul
and flowers the
land
AUTUMN
so
mellow-
scents and sounds
in the harvest
home.
DRIFTING
our
feelings
subside as
we go with the
flow
In a bright yellow, the big bus stands still,
Its lights flash a warning, a sign of care.
Giggles and waves from tiny hands inside,
A moment to pause, where safety’s embraced.
Red lights flash, and the bus is waiting,
You’re in a rush, but safety calls loud.
Around the bend, a cop might be watching,
One moment’s haste, and you face the consequence.
The ticket’s not just a fine, but a lesson,
Every stop sign guards lives we hold dear.
In their small hands, trust is given, so slow down,
In that brief pause, we see the cost of rushing.
Police might be near, keeping an eye,
What seems easy is wrong when caution’s ignored.
So slow down, remember, these kids count on us,
Let kindness guide your actions, respect the bus.
Pigmented leather, indeed, make sure it is clean of belongings,
especially bodies with clothes. Search overhead and underneath
for the precious tots. Leave no one behind. Search arduously.
Though the time spent bores you to tears, you’d be wrung out
if you forget to do your spot check. Then forever after you’ll ride
that bus, in daydreams and nightmares, always searching. Search!
Wake up teachers
You cannot hide forever
School should not be a cultural battle among teachers
Religion should not be used to rattle our aim!
New and Older teachers do not give yourselves
To those who want to treat you like cattle!
Some possess a mind like a machine
Reject the tricks and the clicks in the staffroom
The greed in their hearts will bleed their
Purpose in the wrong direction!
There are so many male and female witches in the staffroom
Often referred to as female dogs as they try to stitch up
The mouths of others because they want to talk and
Walk in a laughter of deceit—we must defeat their misguided notion!
Wake up new and older teachers
Look at all the students
You sent in the wrong way
Because of your cultural ambition!
Change your mind and change your direction
So that you can have a work and not a job!
Wake up teachers
You cannot hide forever but
For those who hide behind the principal
These words are strictly for you
Copyright 2024
School doesn't teach you
How to sell a product or service
School doesn't teach you
How to think creatively and productively
School doesn't teach you
How to negotiate in business deals
School doesn't teach you
How to face failure and overcome it
School doesn't teach you
How to manage time and utilise it
School doesn't teach you
How to invest money in trade and projects
School doesn't teach you
How to find passion in your endeavors
School doesn't teach you
How to make an impact in life
School doesn't teach you
How to start a business and grow it
School doesn't teach you
How to communicate effectively in public
School doesn't teach you
How to read a financial statement
Concept by Opportunities Hub
Poetry Chipepo Lwele
31/01/2023
My vested interest is in keeping communities intact
My vested interest is in keeping some spaces green,
My vested interest is in keeping the fraudsters away,
My vested interest is in keeping obesity in check,
My vested interest is in keeping gambling in check,
My vested interest is in teaching consequences in school,
My vested interest is in keeping conversation alive,
My vested interest is in finding reason to hope.
Understanding we all have vested interests,
Is one of the many steps on the path towards wisdom.
Understanding vested interests when dealing with others,
Is a helpful tool,
When working towards closing a deal.
Understanding vested interests can prevent us being ripped off,
Understanding vested interests in international relations,
May reduce the likelihood of war,
Understanding vested interests are what makes the world go round,
May help when it is time to cast a vote,
Or when you want to know who is stirring the pot.
Understanding vested interest will definitely help,
In making and keeping friendships alive,
And children out of trouble.
I
When mistakes (sins, really) occur
Again, again, again, again, again
Who has grace enough to forbear?
Maybe misguided mothers, not men
Like me ... Either old school or clear
About action-reaction, choice - consequence
II
All sides gain if there seems to be justice
With great mercy, grace, forgiveness
Or forgiveness is but a burdened brute
Like donkeys (old English "@asses")
That cannot get human consideration
Since none would take a donkey to tea
Or coffee, or - O my human brain - therapy
But you & I must feel our identity
As humans is respected; humans ought not beg for humanity
In the name of misguided forgiveness
On the one side only; error must pay & learn
Or forget forgiveness & all education
Such is the choice for this generation
"Goodbye civilization," or bring back repentance
When my Mother died,
There was no state funeral,
No tear felt announcement,
She was not deemed documentary material,
And no one saw money making opportunities,
Because of her passing.
Yet my Mother like so many of her generation,
Was the reason literacy levels were going up not down.
She was a prolific letter writer,
And it rubbed off on us,
Long before we caught the bus,
Well prepared and well fed for,
What school could do for us.
She would have been proud to know
That her great grandson,
Who is only three,
Knows each letter in the word,
Curiosity,
And can say the word too.
It is written on McDonald's happy meal carton,
In big letters for all to see.
Under the words Book or toy?
For those who bother to look,
And are able to sound out the word to their children.
If that is, they were lucky enough to have a person like my Mother
To spark their curiosity?
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
It's time to take poetry into the war room,
So the world won't go boom.
Spinning with a new loom,
Could save a government which is all doom.
If we can we should take poetry into the Board room,
To head off the next crisis that is about to loom.
And while we are at it let's not forget the school room,
Where we can take away some of the gloom.
The kitchen and bathroom,
Could do with a new broom.
And a better view of the moon from the bedroom,
May help Love again to bloom.
How far my friends in the west
How far my diaspora classmates
We are one in the race of life
For we are all labourers
So how far my good people
Of work and eat in the field
Of labour
School teachers how well
Can the pupils grow into
Elite podium
How well can the leaders of
The crown do as stars
My fellow trees of good fruits
How well can the apprentice do
Life is not about how far we
Have gone but how well
We are doing
Is this you my blood brother
That vowed never to leave me
Now you treat me like an earthworm
With your salts of anger
And command to leave your house
That was made our home
Even you that I considered
By bond feelings as a good
Sister but now and Lo you tour
Me with kisses of stains of insults
From your lips
Your ones hope for my heart as a
Brother
Is this you my friend that has blacked
Me with red shame
Have you forgotten the zeal of our
Union as school mates now you
Leave me like others has gambled me
In and out like a rejected wisdom
With sick children without shelter
If the wind is blind the storm should see
And if the storm is blind the wind should
See
If time is a bow then we are all victims
If work is for all then we are liars
Turn to time you know it that greed
Has turn to a flowing habit
If the cemetery is blind then we are dead
If the market is busy then we are nothing
Turn the journey of fame you know it
For the idle ones are made harvesters
If the Church is a light and the people
Are not witness then we are wheels
Of no motion
If the school is a salvage of hope then
We have not started
If hospitality of man is helpful
Then we are murderers for not building
On these thoughts.
"Clean up your toys and come down for dinner, young man"
came Mom's call from the kitchen
The little boy had a job to do, but he didn't want to do it
"Make your bed, straighten up your room and get ready for school"
called Mom from the foot of the stairwell
The schoolboy had a job to do, but he didn't want to do it
"Finish packing your suitcase and get down here on the double. It's time to leave for the airport"
yelled Dad from his easy chair in the living room
The college freshman had a job to do, but he didn't want to do it
"Write that thank-you note and mail it before 5:00 p.m. without fail"
instructed the candidate's super-agent after his interview for his dream job
But he was too busy cleaning up his toys, making his bed, straightening up his room and packing his suitcase to get the note written and mailed in time
So he didn't get the job as head coach of the Chicago Bulls professional basketball team... A pity, that...
'Cos this time he'd really wanted to do it