Long Classmate Poems
Long Classmate Poems. Below are the most popular long Classmate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Classmate poems by poem length and keyword.
I do not fear Death
It appears he fears me
I have sent him embossed invitations
bordered in black
bought the best bottle of wine
I could afford
lowered the lights
anxiously awaited his arrival
disappointed when there was
no knock on my door
spending the evening sitting in silence
stowing the wine away for another day
I don’t enjoy drinking alone
It continues to sit on the counter
in my kitchen unopened
He’s honored many others I know
with his presence
finding him so charming a gentleman
they abandoned everything
to run away with him
Maybe it’s because I’m not cool
like the other kids at school
used to say
when I would ask them over
to celebrate my birthday
Not a single classmate would show
to watch me blow out the candles
and attempt to guess my wish
(none of which ever came true)
I won’t force him to visit
as others have done
That seems rather rude
I’m sure he has far better things to do
Incomprehensible are the
Petty landmarks that linger in a person's life
It happened so long ago
That I'm surprised I still remember.
In St. Thomas' parochial school
When Sister Elizabeth held a ruler
In her pale white hands
Any signs of mercy
Mysteriously vanished from her blue eyes
Religion was her weapon
Corporal punishment it's end
Fueled by frustration
She held the class
In fear.
Every school day
Was a grey morning
Of my longing to be somewhere else
Standing by the door
In a robe
Of darkest wool
Sister Elizabeth counted us in
One by one
As we walked in silence
Hair combed
Little backs held straight.
From her glance
The message was clear
Grade school was not about deep thoughts
Or clever ideas
Originality was not in vogue
It was about small things
That grown-ups winked at
And often ignored
Issues, important as the color of beige.
One dull morning
I whispered to a classmate
When I shouldn't have
Called to the front by Sister Elizabeth
I was given the ultimate punishment
The ruler and then some
In her capable hands my palms were lacerated
When I cried out
She turned my hands over
Until my knuckles bled
Darkening the cuffs of my white shirt.
That evening my mother cried at my bruises
And my father uttered a string of curses
Long into the night
True
Sister's time was not easy
Teaching mindless brats
Such as myself
Only added to her
Disappointment.
Over the years
Attitudes changed
Commitments weakened
And Sister, childless and alone, realized
Much too late
That her days of sacrifice and Catholicism
Chastity and prayer
Had been a life against nature.
Even now my hands cringe
To a fist
When someone holds a ruler
For the wounds are marked deep
In memory.
He was born in Chicago in 1933,
and became one of the best acts anyone could see.
In the fifties, with the “Teenage Kings of Harmony”,
with classmate Sam Cooke, he gained great popularity.
He joined “The Pilgrim Travelers” after the army.
In a South car crash, he was a near fatality.
It took more than a year to regain his memory.
Lou Rawls became popular with his deep velvet voice.
His more than seventy albums with hit songs were choice.
He made his mark in the sixties with a recording
that went to number one called “Love is a Hurting Thing”.
“Lady Love”, You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine,”
and “Natural Man” were his biggest hit songs so fine.
Lou became great with raising funds for some charities
that would help black colleges and universities.
This was a man who achieved so much during his day.
In January 2006, he passed away.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
THE WOMAN WHO COULD EAT WOOD
Who defied science?
The Woman Who Could Eat Wood had.
How and why at first no doctor could say
to her mom and dad.
Years later the doctors had discovered that after a test
special micro-organisms helped the wood in her guts digest.
‘Perhaps B can survive off wood because of some unknown power,’ her father had said.
‘I agree 100% with your thought,’
her mother had said.
‘A superpower I don’t have
All I can do is eat wood. That’s good.
But no one gets saved!
So I’m not special,’ B had made understood.
Sometimes she worried like crazy
that she was different. Sometimes she didn’t worry that she was different like crazy.
At first the cruel media (and some did too on Oak Street) teased her, hated her,
was terrified this kind
of “natural ability” could occur in her.
Quickly they lost interest,
forgot about her.
At Elmwood Primary school some people
ate for lunch sandwiches and fruit.
She ate doors and drawer knobs
and the occasional wood flute.
Some people
in the beginning
were scared that her
bodily functions were strange and not prizewinning.
‘She c-can d-d-i-ig-g-ge-s-st-t-t w-w-woo-d. As b-b-beav-v-ers d-do!’ a classmate had said, not grinning.
‘Friends, Pleeaasssssssssse DON’T be scare of me!
You’ll soon come to understand me. You’ll see.’
‘And YES. I eat like a beaver.
But I don’t cut down trees with my teeth to build
lodges and dams. I don’t eat layers of tree bark.
It’s totally impressive how quick they can build.’
After a long while
most people just accepted she could eat wood. Sure there were a few meanies of guile
who teased her and her parents to tears
for awhile.
She made some friends
and she even had some boyfriends.
She actually loved the taste of wood
that’d make most sick. That she liked to admit.
'I have no choice but to,
I guess,’ she’d admit.
She never felt sick or put on any weight.
Skinny as a HB pencil she was, but not unfit.
Her poos were wood when she didn’t pig normal food when she asked for it.
In fact she preferred wood.
It was free and it
saved her parents a load of money and too,
saved on dentist bills because her teeth never split.
TO BE CONTINUED ... IN PART 2
“When you’re blamed and shamed for something you didn’t do,
remember the one who looks out for you, He knows the truth”
Long ago when I was in junior school
I was made to look a ludicrous fool
A note was passed around, from desk to desk
Guess who got the blame when it came to rest.
It was me of course, teacher called me out
I got the blame for handing the note out
The culprit never owned up, he or she
And no one at all came forward for me.
The note said that so and so loved someone
The names on the note from mind have long gone
Deep down I knew that teacher disliked me
It was how she spoke to me nastily.
Too shy to say what I needed to say
On that horrid embarrassing school day
Not one classmate spoke up in my defence
The instigator had no penitence.
That teacher picked on me for any thing
She didn't care how much her brusque words could sting
So I was tarnished with the blame and shame
If only I had that time back again.
Teachers are sure to be fully aware
Some pupils are in need of tender care
Living their lives already traumatised
Needing love and not to be stigmatised.
88.
My 17th Leaf
Culled thee from new plant
Obvious ‘coz house new
And height still a foot
Though can grow meter
Here it's called “pasaw”
By Ozaraga
Father – school admin
Mother – professor
Daughter –ex-classmate
They're seven members
Third day January
This day Twenty Twelve
Third day of the year
Of Water Dragon
About 12 PM
Beside bamboo fence
Outside to open
Along a path walk
Near its native gate
Aligned with same kind
Just there to have lunch
With Ma'am Diday, Angie
Ma'am Beth and others
New Year left-overs
But Anne was not there.
-01/03/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
We are classmates since then
But friends don’t know if we have been,
I saw you first with hair shaped in butterfly
And all the girls became silly when you pass by
I’m not your fan; it doesn’t feel fine
You’re not the man, I wanted to be mine.
We’re classmates but we don’t know each other
We never talked or asked to bother
Our only conversation that my mind can track
When you asked about the lesson and I answered back.
You are the rainbow when I’m alone and sad
When you flash your smile, think I’ll go mad
Every time you sing my ears is all yours
Even if problems is approaching to pours.
You are the inspiration
The ‘cause of my imagination
I may not have the looks
But I have the heart and mind that hooks.
We’re classmates until now
You don’t know my feelings and how
I don’t dare to tell, I’m shy
You’re my inspiration, It’s enough to say hi.
(at risk of life and limb) against scourge of
racial prejudice courtesy
of sharecropper grandparents
whose objection to racial segregation
based on an affront to the will of God,
whereby the young whip smart precocious lad,
(whose impact we now memorialize)
showed his true colorful promise
when a young student at
Liberal Crozer Theological Seminary
in Chester, Pennsylvania
where the yet uncrowned
eminent king came under the influence
of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr,
a classmate of his father's
at Morehouse College
who became a mentor by exposing
his protégée to liberal views of theology
planting the seeds of ardent activism
that gave rise to
The Southern Christian
Leadership Conference (SCLC),
an initial platform
allowing, enabling and providing acclaim
hoisted up by petard
invariably only heightened
(his) posthumous status
as thee most articulate orator
spelling binding the listeners
with his metaphors about his emphatic march
to a promised land where all
men/women could be brothers/sisters
and no person will be judged
by the color of his/her skin
raising morale of many dirt poor
ebony masses to feel a glimmer of hope.
Sheila dressed carefully, greeting first love in fits of anticipation,
Amid glittering disco ball promoting twenty-fifth year class reunion,
Drum master is at play, thumping Sheila’s traitorous heartstrings
Heart seizes brain’s logic. Goodness! There he is now!
Exposing her heartfelt imagined playoff,
Lifetime daydream of being saved, is rapidly diminishing
Hyena laugh from stage left startles. Room regains color
Crepe paper reality slaps her when face offs begin.
Who are these people? They look old. Did they graduate with her?
Happily ever after daydreams dissipate rapidly. He has not looked this way.
He is a classmate who can barely stand, apparently drinking heavily.
Indisputable reality climbs onto Sheila’s back, grinning wickedly. Mean.
Blatant truth hangs onto fat bellies, sneering over belt buckles.
He is no longer her true love who got away, just a sad alcoholic of a man.
Unrecognizable, flipping her daydream into a solid nightmare.
Throwing themselves into each other’s arms tonight is laughable really.
Sheila’s dream Prince Charming is not coming, for he has turned into a frog.
And not a pretty one, quick to anger, not the sweet boy she had known.
The love of her life pretended not to remember her. Surrounded by self-walls.
She turned to her husband Jim and smiled. “Let’s dance,” She said.
The lonely boy who had been pining for his lost love for years laughed.
She is uppity now, he told himself. She is nothing like I remember.
Daydreams up in smoke, with all of his other dreams and life goals.
This would be his last reunion. He watched his dream princess dance.
(Dedication: For my old classmate
Prabir Sen-Gupta and family.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peace of mind frames the course of cheer,
Reap joy that heals the soul that knows;
Ask that good name can live most clear,
Bring fond goodwill that syncs grand flow;
Indulge the same as light shines near,
Reach as heart feels that affluent show.
Joy wears a face that mellows sight,
Etch a true zest that makes you whole;
Now dare embrace the path lived right,
Note your life’s quest with heart and soul;
Yield to deep grace in dance of light.
Embrace each day the touch of grace,
Love simply spells that feel you know;
Live your own way in time and space,
Opt thus to dwell bright precious glow;
Rich thoughts forge play with smile in place,
Abide calm tell where happy shows.
Niche waves of wit as fun floods room,
Impact clear mind with true design;
Kind words can fit what truth now grooms,
Happy daze finds what heart aligns;
Instruct code bits like agile blooms,
Laughter in kind now humours grind.
Now beauty shows in awesome zest,
Imbue your heart with wholesome fire;
Sense a grand flow as love greets quest,
Hurl feisty start as faith inspires;
Ask that you know how feel sparks fest.
Speak words of poise that sparkle bright,
Explore the truth that calls to you;
Note how thought choice can put things right.
Glimpses fund proof of mystic cues,
Urge love to fill each day with grace;
Prize a warm wit when pain brings grief,
Truth primes a will that lights your face;
Apt that sure fit in journey brief.
Leon Enriquez
27 December 2017
Singapore