Memory High School Poems | Examples
These Memory High School poems are examples of High School poems about Memory. These are the best examples of High School Memory poems written by international poets.
You were gazing at me as I looked in your direction
You, caught in reverie and a daydream reflection
Both of us wondering if we've made a connection
As you stand with your friends by your locker
As both of us are caught up in this moment
Both wondering if the other one knows it
Both wondering if the other will show it
Having our love listed on the docket
You writing our names on your notebook
In a heart our names, in your mind nuptials took
Me stealing your heart like some kind of crook
As you lean back on your book nook
I saunter over, parting your friends
I fumble for words, my heart beats intense
I manage to muster these words in defense
"You've captivated my heart with just a look!"
Hello! Old friend,
You crossed my mind today,
After decades of no thoughts of you.
Today, I sat across a meeting I'd rather avoid;
Then I thought of you.
I wonder what happened to the life of us.
We were there, then we weren't;
Too absorbed by the happenings.
We didn't remember to preserve our sight of each other.
My old friend,
I thought of you today.
I found out you also had your share of life and its happenings.
I remember you,
Just like how much of the past I want to forget.
The memories of you are delicately situated in that past,
But I thought of you today.
I remember the smiles we shared.
I still remember that we share the same birth month.
To an old friend,
Being friends again might not be possible,
But I'll always remember that we were once friends.
I'll only remember us as friends.
I stand before it,
Something that was my present in past,
And is yesterday today,
Something that has become a memory at last.
A shade of yellow settled in my eyes,
Which would now reminisce everything in sight,
Bidding my last goodbyes,
Everything slowly flushed by a sepia light.
Those tarnished blue coloured walls,
That have been hit by our class’ cricket balls,
Those trees of green,
Which luminate the autumn sheen.
This role playing ground,
Changing its character as occasions are found,
Once a ground to our sports fest,
Another to when our parade isn’t at rest.
Those now-never-to-be-seen teachers,
Whose faces I miss,
These dusky classes,
Which now strike a lighting bliss.
Memories hidden in those benches and blackboards,
Each one has a story it hoards.
The forgotten tales of when I thought ‘their’ and ‘there’ were same,
Would be recalled if the wood had a mouth and a name.
Past is the moon,
Memories, the water,
Nostalgia, the tide,
Nothing to be felt but a warm collide.
In the countryside, while walking
It was a joy to pick and eat wild guava
Papaya, star apple, lomboy, and berries
Our mouth always stained milky or purple
Life was so sweet to remember then
Going back and forth from school walking
We had this routine finding fruits at roadside
If we find one, all my school companions busy
Picking and cajoling the fruit tree's blessing
It's fun, joking and merry eating around the tree
Almost dusk we arrive home because of that gag
Until this moment of adulthood I can still recall
My high school days had never been that fun.
Two fifteen-year-olds stood in a dark hotel parking lot.
Laughing teenagers passed with their dates, to their cars.
The pair stood, awaiting her parents -
she, in a shiny, pink, satin dress, a corsage,
and a gold chain tracing a meandering path on her smooth neck,
he, in a crazy tuxedo,
and a strange garment - a cummerbund.
Earlier, clumsily, unnerved, and threatened by a huge concentration
of alien creatures, that is, fellow teenagers,
he had tried to navigate a new kind of obstacle course,
at one point, emulating something called a dance.
Her curves gracefully undulated,
stretching the fabric of her dress.
He hadn't talked much that night.
Now, in the dark, away from the crowd,
he spoke,
placing his hands around her waist,
and feeling, through slippery fabric,
something entirely new,
wonderful and real.
I prayed for you,
A thousand times, in a thousand ways.
But every single moment,
I recounted the days.
Never have I ever forgot to pray.
For which I tried so hard.
If only my eyes could say.
I cried for you,
In an endless cycle of nights.
I was sleepless for you,
For at least a thousand nights.
My eyes were wet,
Wet with sorrow and pain.
The pain of losing you,
Was making me insane.
Wherever I go, I could see you.
Whenever I dream, I dream of you.
You are an unforgettable memory of mine,
If only I could see you one last time,
I could say I am on cloud nine.
If only my eyes could speak,
The phrases of my heart.
I would have felt,
As if I conquered the earth.
Eyes can tell the truth,
Hidden within the soul.
Because they have natural innocence,
One which makes us whole.
But I guess it’s too late,
Yet my heart can't seem to forget.
For me, it will always be you.
Never will I ever forget to pray for you.
Alas! My Lady in Green,
You will always be a part of me,
Even if I die or the world ends.
You will always remain special to me.
I hate being the 'incident' of your story
Hate how you once made my heart beat so fast
Hate how I get a reminder of you
Now we're just strangers that sometimes walk past.
A memory I can't erase
Was getting dull with time
Life was getting back to it's pace
But a trigger by your sight, not my eye's crime.
Applauds to the courage
I didn't feel anything in
Left the road you were taking
Resisting the temptation of a possible sin.
The need of journeying back in time
Where your name stood unknown
As an arrogant, aggressive guy
Was what to me, was shown.
I hate being the one left behind the door
When you were the one knocking it first
Hate the time I spent foolishly
On you, now I just keep eyes on floor.
I am supposed to be writing
Poems for thank you cards,
And memory jars,
And collecting money
For presents and food
Before the party starts.
But I find myself hesitant,
Scribbling nonsense, peppering edges
Of the sheet with tiny stars.
Yet starting tomorrow
It would seem more real
And maybe dim this denying trance.
Tears come easily on this special night,
It's saying farewell that is hard.
Thoughts turn to the celebration of the end of our twelve-year journey,
the end of our growing years together,
hugs and kisses are abundant.
Nervous laughter as memories crowd.
Signing yearbooks,
But how do I say...goodbye?
Feeling footloose, with nothing to grasp and hold.
A vacant feeling,
Watching all we've known disappear.
Will we see friends again,
or lose them forever?
As we search for our dreams,
will we find ourselves?
Graduation: a time etched in memory--
laughter, tears--bittersweet.
March 28, 2023
For "Graduation Day" contest
by Craig Cornish
He left her with a
Piece of paper,
Containing words of what
He hoped to be enough
For her to comprehend.
He believed she'll read
Those lovely curved lines
With eyes of her heart,
Not of her mind.
Knowing she was cautious
To open herself to the
Possibility of being loved,
He still decided to be bold
And leave his comfort zone.
She returned it,
Never realising...
She returned what was
Meant for her to keep.
Such is the tragedy
Of misunderstandings.
A movie, oh wow, when one need not be Woke!
A girl was a girl, a bloke was a bloke.
I forget I was born when times were free.
Not under pressure of societal perversity.
We had jobs, were not weird and went to school.
We had nothing free, we were not governments’
tools.
Remember when schools were open and all stores, too.
We were not Covid,freaked-out-masked fools?
Nor were our teachers the government’s tools!
Our parents taught us ethics and rules!
We did not live on cold social platforms.
We lived and loved in freedom, that was the norm!
One could tell clearly, who was a girl or boy.
There were no “man- buns”,a welcomed joy!
Hope America returns to that sense of joy.
When it’s acceptable to be the sex you were born,
either girl or boy!
Notes: Ideas from the movie.
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High”, 1982
Sean Penn, Phoebe Cates, Jennifer Jason
Leigh.
Ah, Prom! I remember it well
how my excitement did swell
Would I be asked by a girl or a boy
or maybe an ‘undecided,’ oh joy!
Mosquito Beaters Luncheon
Class of '64
By Franklin Price
03/17/2022
It was only just a week ago
That we met at Island Time
Older now and maybe wiser
Than when young and in our prime
The faces looked familiar
As the years were wiped away
We were the class of '64
Who had come to lunch that day
I exchanged hugs with ladies
With a light kiss on the cheek
Put my arm around the men folk
Shook their hands, I'm not a geek
We enjoyed each others' company
It had been too long, too far
Reminisced a lot of history
Got a few beers from the bar
When the lunch was over
And we went our separate ways
We had smiles on all our faces
From remembering the days
We girls, dressed our vert best!
Curled our hair, a tad of makeup.
Clothes, must most modest be.
Skirts, well below the knee!
Boys had to wear suits.
To respect us with utmost chivalry.
And indeed, they did!
Rules and morals, planted firmly in
our heads.
I wonder what it is like now?
Knowing, it is not the same.
Where sexuality is the game!
And if there is any sense of shame?
These memories of by-gone days.
Honey-sweet with magical anticipation.
An adolescent empire just bursting
With respectful, innocent play and a
Delight in cordial admiration!
12/6/2022
The many days of tolerating the,
Bullies, the prima Donna's, the jocks,
And the nerds.
Trying to find ways to escape them,
Daily was an adventure.
The lunchroom is what nightmares,
Are made of.
Memories you laugh about when,
Reminiscing with friends.
Can't forget running down
the hall dodging bullies,
Finding any teacher that will save us.
Waking up in the morning having,
A panic attack about school.
Just realizing your 28 and a sigh,
Of relief your no longer in high school.
You have been paroled.
Those are the days of high school.