My Inner voice told me to respect
Universal Moral Values always
at each step of journey, precise perfect.
Truth will guide my path in glory and glaze.
This principle was blessed by my Dad
and has been stored in the core of my heart
That’s the firm pivot on which I can stand
and proceed at ease from the very start.
My inner voice told be to act right,
always behaving courageous.
Aiming justice, I am ready to fight.
Not religious but righteous.
I don't pray to rescue me from crisis
but ask for inherent strength to confront.
In barren desert I must find oasis.
Not to mourn for past , but to look at front.
My Inner voice told me to lend hand
to the needy and sufferers at best,
also to send juniors this errand,
to be followed by generation : Next.
O, fairest of ladies, you shall shine so bright,
A radiant star, that illumes in the night,
Your heart, a wellspring of compassion,
With gentle kindness, to all who suffer pain.
You are an angel, in mortal guise,
Always gracious to your peers, and those of your juniors,
Your kindness, like a beacon, will shine so bold,
Illuminating paths, for hearts that grow cold.
Your tears, fair lady, do fall like summer's rain,
For those who walk in darkness, and in sorrow's pain,
Your heart, a deep well, of goodness it contain,
And in your noble spirit, a brighter world will reign.
One day, my lady, your noble dreams shall come to pass,
And this fair world, shall be a better place, at last.
Shattering the Unbroken Cycle
Bully's shadow looms, a pervasive stain
across all sectors, absurd, yet sustained
Governments and schools deny workers' rights
incentives, facilities, and dignity's light
Seniors torment juniors with blows and pain
emotional scars, hunger, and shame's stain
Educators wound with words, with physical might
abuse and fear, a toxic, endless night
Domestic walls conceal violence and despair
husbands, wives, and shattered vows laid bare
Governments neglect, oppress, and deny
basic rights, humanity, and a chance to thrive
Even sacred spaces hide oppression's face
wealth and power, a sharp, humiliating knife's pace
Do we bully for fleeting power's sake?
Is happiness not our purpose, our heart's ache?
Can't we choose kindness, unity, and love?
Break bully's chains, send humanity from above
(a poem in genZ slang)
square-up marys,
It’s junior year, in the ivie,
we’re gambling for big-chips.
so gambate, do-it-big!
It's time, buck-up or labron.
if you bunny rouble
homeskillets will hook-it-up
lovems juju
.
.
slang…
girlogue = conversation between girls that guys can’t understand
square-up = get ready
marys = bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks
ivie = ivy league
big-chips = high stakes, high risk
gambate = Japanese word: 'Try your best!!'
do-it-big = take things to the next level
buck-up = rise to a challenge, to do something others are unable to
labron = fail miserably at the last second
bunny rouble = have trouble
homeskillets = friends
hook-it-up = help you out
lovems = sending you love
.
.
(Get ready, you bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks,
it’s junior year, in the ivy league,
and we’re gambling for high stakes.
So try your best, take things to the next level!
It's time, to rise to a challenge and do something others are unable to
or fail miserably at the last second.
If you have trouble
your friends will help you out
I'm sending you love, good luck.)
Reading some homework
The day seems like artwork
Has the sky ever been so blue
Three guys toss a frisbee
perilously near me
shirtless boys silhouetted in turquoise
We’ve got our shades on
We pretend not to watch em’
But we know they’re putting on a show.
We’ve got fold up recliners
and we set a timer
to move to the shade in a minute or two
But the sun seems distracted
cooler and less radioactive
dozens of students are out on the quad
The trees aren’t just standing
the breeze has them dancing
to ‘Blood in the Cut’, a song by ‘K.Flay’
On this cool, near-fall holiday
We’ll while our day away
each of us claiming a chance to relax
Now that we’re juniors, we know the facts
We get that there’s still a lot of reading to do
but we know, we can have a little fun too.
What else would you expect us to do?
Wanted
Your Child For One Week
(Vacation Bible School)
By Tom Wright
7/17/2002
Lord,
‘mongst us, send those with fertile minds,
entrust to us, all those with willing hands.
Those not biased, or callused from Satan’s binds,
who will travail, united, as the oceans sands.
Give us hearts, not yet as mid summers clay,
and feet, not reluctant to run and do.
Children who will accept a challenge along the way,
but Lord, mostly, those not yet taught of you.
As servants, empower us to till this fertile ground,
and let our petitions forever be, o’er acorns we have sown.
That on a good foundation, soon mighty oaks be found,
yielding fruit for You as future years have grown.
Finally, aged saints, a plaque done at our hand,
a daily reminder from the juniors class, of words adored.
While some who view it may not think it grand,
it shares our witness,
* “But as for me and my house, we will serve the lord.”
Amen
*Joshua 24:14
IN THE PLAYGROUND
by
LIZZY DUNKS
Juniors bulling readily.
Wind howling loudly.
Infants spying quietly.
Dogs barking roughly.
Mums watching cruelly.
Cats purring softly.
Branches falling swiftly,
By Lizzy Dunks aged 7
Leslie Manser Primary School, Lincoln, UK
Lizzy a grate niece in-law of mine; wrote, and had this poem published in an anthology of rhymes* all of which were written by children from the age of 11 down. Sadly Lizzy died of leukaemia at the tender age of 9, An immense loss to her family, and her talent an immense loss to the world!
*Anthology title will be added as soon as possible, apologies!!
School's started up. sigh
I moved up a notch, of course
but virtual school sucks.
We should be walking
- no, swaggering - ivied halls
with new dominance.
Seniors rule, true,
but with one foot out the door
- Juniors set the tone.
One more viral theft,
that renders long traditions
unapproachable.
This virus changes lives
- bodied within its limits
- what future will rise?
ONTOLOGY
Water drips from the hairs on my arms, hands
held high to avoid contamination. I can’t wait
to begin. I guess this Adrenalin rush is what an actor feels
before he strides on stage. A nurse helps me don
my gown. I pull on my gloves. Surgeon, king of my domain.
Minions adjust the mirrored overhead light. I grasp my scalpel.
Fractured images explain the process to juniors. Jokey. Calm.
I’m floating on the easy insouciance of experience. My patient’s
elective surgery’s wasn’t serious. But my satisfied smile morphs into
emergency paddles. A flat line – cardiac arrest. Attempts to revive
him fail. I curse, jolted by this unexpected loss. Nothing to warrant
my sense of guilt. And how might I explain to his devastated family?
The theatre doors burst open. His wife, wild-eyed. Shouting. My
husband came to me in the waiting-room. Out of his body. Saying
you think he’s dead. Doctor, do something… Before we can hustle her
out, my patient’s pulse resumes beating. It doesn’t make sense.
Colour rushes back into his face. Nothing makes sense.
Class of 2002,
this year is at it's end.
Juniors we will be next year,
while keeping our Sophomore friends.
Although I will be leaving soon,
I take a part of this school with me,
Knowing next year will be a newer place,
where you'll no longer be.
I take each memory shared by us,
the good, the bad, just them all.
Through each day I'll think of you,
our bonds standing me up tall.
We'll think our time is getting near,
we'll be so happy and proud.
But when the time is actually here,
tears will fall in a cloud.
No matter where I go,
I'll be with all of you.
As you'll be a class of Seniors one day,
So will I, just with someone new.
Dedicated to: Roane County High School, Class of "2002"
Sucks I had to move away.
When first met him, he acted like leader,
used to pretend as a great achiever;
sought to bypass the laid down procedure.
Some disliked him for acts as beleaguer;
His working process many did not like
his didactic style workforce did dislike.
His behaviour in office with juniors
was rough, never bothered for their futures;
Some of them opined he was a meaner.
His mischievous acts didn't like by seniors.
His pessimism caused him sickness sadly;
Yet, juniors whom he treated so badly
rushed him to hospital stayed there gladly
till release next day, they acted manly.
~X~X~X~
My friend reluctant to
attend office, too afraid of
his boss's disproportionate love;
constantly meddle through
intrusive disruption thereof;
evinces what he can do.
Keeps juniors under watch;
tries to manage even smallest
details of each work in office;
impossible to dodge;
‘Work Freedom’ thought he'll abolish
if he can; None can match.
I Am A Planter
By: Tom Wright
6/20/99
I'm just a simple planter
from a Cedar tree I'm made.
Young birds have spent time in my boughs
while beneath, perhaps, young children played.
I pray that with me you won't find fault
though I make no claim to being grand.
Much love and care has gone into each piece
that was touched by some small hand.
Those hands that built me have done their best
in fashioning me just for you.
As Haskell Free Will Baptist juniors
they sure hope that I will do.
Once your planted flowers have began to grow
and you've had occasion to stare.
Remember those young hands that fashioned me
as you go to God, in prayer.
From The Junior's V.B.S. Craft Team
As the wolves over the rocky snow
Strikes for food and supremacy with
Fierce claws and devouring strength
So lies the desire on all to lead
As the mountain stands tall and
Proud within our land and coast
With all eyes pointing to their
Structural beauty so is the helmet
Of desire for juniors to become seniors
As mothers are glad to nurse their babies
So are their daughters happy to become
Wives crown with that name mother
Yet the crown of actualization is in
Patience
Oh imagine what a world without illiterate be?
Go deep into thinking and see what a disastrous word,
Where no one is below another,
What a world it would be!
A world where the saddle saddler awaits saddling,
A lake that no longer abound with fish,
What a world it would be,
A world where abracadabra now exists.
Should we all abscond from its disaster,
Or should we be absent-minded
A place where they are acolytic leaders,
What a world it would be.
When it comes we must be called in the ad hoc meeting,
For no one can sell,buy and use
For a world without illiterates isn't one,
More disastrous than mere bomb.
No one can boss his boss for that's buzzing,
But every boss can re-boss his juniors
For that's how a world with illiterate revolves
Everyone needs them to survive
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