Long Grades Poems
Long Grades Poems. Below are the most popular long Grades by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grades poems by poem length and keyword.
From the beginning momma been duin it on her own, raising a fast kid like me in a single parent home. 15 years old with her whole life ahead of her, but sperm traveled fast and made a single egg last. Now its me, here by mistake, so I only look at myself as one. Taking her through hell for 15 years , while she gave up all she had in front of her. No prom, no graduation, no happiness, her teenage life thrown away and sacrificed just for me. But all this didn’t have to be. She had a choice: murder me, or give me away and live happily. She kept me out the goodness of her heart, lord knows If she had the chance, she’d give it up for a brand new start. But this is the life of how a small lil teen in a huge giant world grows with guilt inside.
Daddy wasn’t an addict, and daddy wasn’t a jail berg. Daddy isn’t dead, he’s just somewhere being mislead. He’s not with me, so how can he tell me where I need to be.
I grew up like any other kid, without a father. All I had and have to depend on is my mother. She’s not the best, but she’s defiantly far from the rest.
She’s modeling for me, modeling how to be. The best is what she want me to see.
Tough love is rough is love, momma know love. Momma give love, momma take love, but I’m surprised momma still giving love. Its just a matter of time before momma throw in the gloves!
From the headaches, to the heartaches; I couldn’t possibly imagine what hurts worst! She’s smiling on the outside, sorta like me, & crying behind closed doors, praying on her knees: hoping her daughter don’t fall a victim to the streets, and become pregnant just from one lil piece of meat! The whoopings, the spankings, the beatings, the busted heads, and the loud yells are just a sign of tough of love, tryna teach a lesson, while I’m blaming myself when I should really be countin my blessings!
Momma just wanna see me succeed, fulfill the things she wasn’t able to in life, and spend time with her on the things that her momma couldn’t. She wanna see the best in me, & honestly, I’m striving to be all I can.
Bringing home good grades, making goals, achieving goals, and playing my role. They say we can’t please every body and I guess I try too hard, but momma is one person who I wanna impress lord!
Take care of her like she take care of me, that’s after I become all I can be! Cause I want my momma to see . . . . . . . . . I’m GONE make it!!!
I do it for the boys, the girls, men, the women,
plus Allah's unborn children look how I'm living
it's similar to, your situation no money making,
just chips and egg crates in front the Playstation.
Cable's late again my real friends know my struggle,
a rough 9 to 5 plus supplying studio time is my hussle.
It's just my father, Jibri, and I shacked in a shack
shackled to a broken home with no
welcome mat get back.
Everysince my mother left the building,
the feeling ain't the same pain is building
rain is killing the window pain.
Winters are harsh man, but I can take it though
as long as I'm wrapped up in these blankets
I'm a make it man.
I do it for the emcees, the djs, the b-boys, the b-girls,
hip hop is a growing culture plus it's a free world.
Free to manifest expressions,
free to rep your section focused over nice composures
flowing until the night is over.
Don't be like me just be like the music you like
use right rhyme and reason choose nice lines and preach them.
Watch the ones leeching watch who you be with frequent
cause you can end up with your dreams slowly sinking.
Only you can make it in this, it's a business,
forget the fame listen use your senses don't be senseless.
Be patient and grind hard if waiting to shine start
slanging tapes on my block & your block it don't stop.
Hit up every spot around,
it's a milion of us trying to get a milion bucks and
chill in a vila feeling the cool breeze.
I'm am who me.
the same easy dude speaking jeweles
do you I'm a do me.
I started off young with a pen and a pad lyrics I had
before that I scribbled on scraps forget about class.
Entered school thinking of rap,
grades sinking in math
twas either skip, go home, or sit in the back.
During lunch I read what I wrote
they said it was dope, within battles
no one put Bomb Threat on the ropes.
Six years later I.....left to go solo felt I was hopeless
in a group that wasn't hungry only one supplying money me.
Then the south was united, two years later divided
but Mama Glo, had the best ideas,
but I, down no man no way no how
cause if you make it in this game from the heart I'm proud.
FLA I will make this official rake up a pencil
for Jenah's sake I'm a make it
and mention you on an instrumental.
That's a promise I'm honest, show me love back
hold me down
southside is us you gotta love that.
I chuckle soft when people fume,
And blame the lot in suits and gloom.
“You see those leaders? All a scam!”
But who’s still selling free yarn?
Was it not your own cousin’s name,
On that campaign with matching frame?
The nurse who sighs, “This ward’s a zoo,”
Still checks her brows in selfie view.
She posts, “On duty, Lord be praised,”
While someone’s gasping, soul half-raised.
Yet when they moan the state’s unwell,
She nods, “It’s true,” then rings the bell.
The lecturer, with paunch and tie,
Reads ancient notes with weary sigh.
He shares some grades with knowing nod,
Then says, “This country’s truly flawed.”
He blames the youth for lack of grit—
While half his class just pays to sit.
The copper parked on potholed street,
Asks, “Where’s your licence? Papers neat?”
He grins, “Let’s talk,” with greasy grin,
While tucking morning bribes within.
By noon he’s shouting on the news—
“Society’s gone down the loos!”
We roast the system every day,
With memes and gifs in strong array.
Yet scroll past queues to dodge the vote,
Then mourn when goats are running boats.
We ask for change, yet shift no ground—
Just echo tweets that spin around.
The tailor swears, “Your cloth’s near done,”
But dances at his niece’s fun.
The mechanic says your car’s in queue,
But joyrides round like Fast & Few.
Then tells his mates, “This land’s a mess!”
While wearing shoes you just redressed.
The market lady shifts her scale,
And bags your rice with hidden shale.
The youth who screams, “We must rebel!”
Still ghosts his friend to chase one belle.
We all want justice, loud and bold—
But sow deceit like coins of old.
The pastor thunders, “Give and live!”
Then buys a Benz you helped to give.
He claims the Lord approves his flight,
While dodging tax in holy light.
He’s not alone—we’re in this stew,
From deacon’s pew to bus queue too.
So when next time you curse “the throne,”
Recall—it doesn’t stand alone.
That golden seat’s not self-assigned,
It’s built from all we’ve undermined.
To mend the roof, don’t shout and frown—
Pick up a spade, rebuild your town.
You want clear roads? Then drive with sense.
You want fair rules? Then stop the fence.
It’s not by screaming, “God will run it!”
While jumping queues with cheek and sonnet.
The mirror’s clear, it doesn’t bluff—
We are the system. That’s enough.
it's September and the new school year is now off the ground
but there's this crazy phenomenon happening called dumbing down
basically our children have decided that it's not very cool
if you're seen as being someone who's very smart in school
they're getting grades on the level of just barely passing through
for if you look too smart the others will make fun of you
but what the generation of today fails to see
is that education is the key to greater opportunity
when I think of the struggle my ancestors had in order to get educated
to be given a chance to one day become economically elevated
then I look around the word and have come to realize
that children in third world nations see education as a great prize
dumbing down is the latest form of mental slavery today
sabotaging our children's success and stopping their equal pay
to follow the status quo just to appear cool
dumbing down their assets to act like simple fools
no marketable skills and no chance to succeed
emulating those artists who rap about money, violence and greed
how will they ever compete in this global economy
when they don't even possess a basic college degree?
dumbing down their assets instead of doing them up
walking around wondering why they now have empty cups
they need to use that gift from God which is their smarts
and get that education which in life will give them a head start
and whatever they go on to do in their lives be it in either word or in deed
pray that they do it in Jesus' name and plant a mighty seed
don't let the world discourage them and attempt to keep them down
elevate them in Jesus' name and plant them on higher ground
they run around with their pants hanging off their butts and doo-rags on their heads
looking like street gang executioners and not Wall Street executives instead
as parents we've got to do our best to make sure they get educated
as parents we've got to pray for them and make sure in the Word they're elevated
so pray for them, cry over them and help them to do their best
encourage them and let them know they can be better than all the rest
the children are our future, our hope and our legacy
so make sure as parents that they get every opportunity
making it great in 2008 by telling your kids to do it up and not dumb down
just make sure you do it in Jesus' name and with love abound
Sophomore year’s clocked-up my free time. Last summer I made some core promises (to my mom) to go harder on the pre-med track. Perfect grades are ok, I’m told, but they’re underdog, alone. So, this year, my “spare” time is split between hospital volunteering and a (nominally) paid research project. The goal of all this hustle is to pad my resume up, as proffer, for a 2025 med school slot. I’ve never felt so observed, judged and weekend-less, but playas gotta play.
Last week, Peter (let’s call him my BF) was invited to some random alumni event. He wasn’t excited about it, but he thought, “Ooo, free meal.” Actors and doctoral students are all about free food. Then, after he signed onto it, they told him the group was going, by train to Washington DC, on an overnight trip (all expenses paid) where they’d visit the White House and meet the President.
They took the train through New York and down to DC arriving late at night and then they had to meet in the lobby, the following morning, at 7am to get COVID tested for the White House. He said the White House experience, and the meet-and-greet seemed surreal. While he didn’t get to meet Joe, he shook Jill Biden’s hand, and in a parting, fog-headed moment, suggested she “have a good one.” (Hopefully, she did.)
As an extra, on the way back, at union station in DC, they heard gunshots and there were a few tense moments where they saw people in the station (outside the train) running about in panic. Eventually, security pronounced everything safe. A man WAS shot in the foot but that passes for a calm night in DC. All-in-all the event and train travel made for an exhausting trip for poor Peter.
Bizz, BIZZ-BIZZ-BIZZ At first, the alarm sound seemed unreal and unimportant. I opened my eyes and through my three, open dorm windows, I could see stars still flickering busily, like light off of so much broken glass. “What?” I mumbled.
“I have to go,” Peter said drowsily, as he kissed my forehead, “it’s getting early.”
It seemed I blinked, and he was gone. After he left, I woke up several times. The silence seemed heavy, almost solid and it easily pressed me back into sleep.
.
slang:
clocked-up = busied-out
core promises = inescapable swears
underdog = expected to lose
Proffer: “present (something) for acceptance.”
weekends = a mythical time to catch up*
My family doesn't understand
How me and my brain work
Or all the instabilities in my head,
Feeling like I might break
At any point or another,
How I could cry at any moment,
How I am never relaxed at any time,
How I am so untrusting because
Of the trauma I've been dealt
That they don't even know about
I just want to take a day off
But I'm not allowed because
"We never get to see each other much"
And I can't just stay home even though
I've just been through another bad thing
But who cares, get over it, fight on
Well, that's easy to say but is such
Toxic thinking to put down another
And to just say to "get over it",
I'm sorry, but the pain is real
And I just want it to go away
So I want to take a sick day today
But I'm not allowed to take time
To recuperate and recollect myself,
No, I have to go out into public,
A place which never fails to
Make me feel oh-so uncomfortable
And never let me be able to relax
And I like how they say,
"You can relax anywhere as long as you try!"
But that is such utter fallacy for me,
The one who deals with so much anxiety,
I mean, who can blame me for wanting to be
Comfortable in my own house for a day?
To take a day for myself and feel better?
But of course, that isn't a thing I get
And they try to empathize with me,
But they only use themselves and don't
Even try to understand what I might feel
Compared to how they would,
Like they are just telling themselves
What to do, not even me anymore
Like I'm not the subject anymore,
But since when was I ever?
Not like I'm the one that matters,
"Oh, well your grades are good, move on"
But they put so much effort into
My siblings who don't do as great,
"You're doing that? That's great, that's fine"
But they push my siblings to do things,
Never a thought about me,
Or any reason to put any effort in me
Although, I guess I'm lucky since
I don't need their help, not that even
When they gave it to me it was any good
They talk me down now about not
Bottling up my emotions, but they were
The ones to first instill the idea in my head,
Never letting us be anything but
Completely and utterly happy, otherwise
You were told to stop and stamp it out
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
But that's not what you raised me to be,
I guess in the end, family does not
Always know best
Written on March 20, 2021
My classroom has a pet crocodile
A protector of the class
he's a hunter of bass
And a gentleman scholar
He cares about your grades.
invests in the arts, attends school plays
and greets the students everyday
he’s a mainstay...
he plays a lot of roles,
wears a lot of hats
fills holes in education and
plugs gaps
On a single day
he may play ...
the role of mentor, hype guy, and father figure
The kids show him respect and call him Mister
But he was always happy with Gilbert
Everyday a student has a crisis
It doesn’t matter if you are the meanest or nicest
Your lessons will be interrupted; If hes available, if he can,
Gilbert will step in to play the role Of Gentle Man
My go-to move, is leaving a crying student with a friend
If it's something they can't share,
I'll leave them with a smile,
a notebook, a pen,
a blank prompt for a letter they won't send...
Dealing with adult issues no one can mend.
An encouraging smile a gentle nod I keep it curt
I leave them with Gilbert.
I send a message to The councilor after;
Her backlog would fill you with dark laughter
But shes a master because my students feel heard
By her and Gilbert
Gilbert has Seen some
And I don't mean the pants he was shoved down.
Or the way he was swung around
So I had to insist he only bit
But he's soft and gently and the kids love him for it
And he hears things more serious…….
I think Gilbert cries when he’s alone
the messy cry where you let out a wailing moan
Where you cry so hard you forget about vanity
The kind of crying that saves your sanity
I find my car is a good place to cry
But Gilbert is a plush crocodile and cant drive
But I have to assume he cries because everyone has to have a process for letting go of the problems that aren't theirs
The projects and missions we can’t bear.
The responsibility that isn't ours to share
Sometimes, the most important thing about Gilbert, and me, is just that we’re there.
Well.
I have to teach too.
That's what they hired me to do
And I'm excited to do my job, my kids make it easy….
When I remember to appeal to their curiosity
And sometimes it's impossible not everyone loves Geography
But Gilbert and I will be there tomorrow
And the day after and next year
Because I really feel like I found a vocation, and it’s being right here
Making my way through the Dollar General hoping to get an economy pack of Thank You cards to send out to all the people who had just given me expensive gifts
(Not really; I was there for cheap cosmetics),
All I could smell was that discount store smell I can’t pin down, but if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s the smell of spilled Prell baked on raw plastic packaging and industrial strength Irish Spring spread all over the place to repel insects and people with disposable incomes
I heard Elton John in the background, and it was the same song I heard as a nearsighted but proud third-grader at Kmart with proud young parents doing their best, too, as they had me try on all the reading glasses on the spinning rack, hoping one of them would be an affordable solution to a suspected vision problem, but none of them were going to help me read writing on a board more than a few feet ahead of me.
But it was fine; for now, everything’s fine. My grades are good, and everything’s fine for now. Prescriptions can wait a few years for now. I can only see what’s right in front of me, and it’s fine for now.
Now here I am thirty years later at Dollar General under the same overhead music and florescent lights, and the same smell that I can’t positively identify. These discount places all seem to smell the same and I can’t explain it, but maybe it’s in my mind the way it clings to my clothes and hair almost as bad as cigarette smoke
And as stuck as that smell gets in my clothes, so I’m stuck in this place as a ghost wishing to move on, but trying to save money on scar concealers, ignoring pains in my jaws and sides and back,
So I’m back, and still not sure what that smell is exactly
And all there is to do is be glad that for now, everything is fine.
I can see what’s right smack in front of me just fine, now, but I ignore the distance as I did then, saying it’s just fine, still believing I have a chance to escape and move on to someplace better, if only in my mind.
Gratefully I’ll head home with my discount concealer and change, and like that nearsighted girl, see nothing far ahead.
Everything’s fine today. The smell of rain will send that discount store smell away with the breeze for now. Tomorrow will soon be today, and as long as today is fine, it’s fine for now.
Now, my story is not a fun one
Nor does it make much sense
For, at times, it’s quite confusing
But it goes a little like this:
I feel in love at a young age
When I was just fifteen
I didn’t listen to my friends’ advice;
My boyfriend, I continued to see.
He was cold and hateful towards me
And could always throw a good punch
We’d viciously fight before school
But he’d apologize before lunch.
I tried not to believe it
And just listen to my heart
But it landed me in a bad place
And here’s where my story really gets its start.
I though that I was ready for the commitment
Because we didn’t act as wild
But I was wrong to trust him
And soon, I was pregnant with his child.
I felt so alone and saddened
Like I had no other choice
I needed my future, needed my life
And so, this child, I chose to destroy.
I couldn’t take care of a baby
I knew that would never do
And I sat down and thought it out
And said, “What would Jesus do?”
I prayed about it all one night
And cried my eyes out too
I asked God to give me an answer
Tell me what to do.
I spent one night crying
And then the deciding was done
I made my choice, that was it,
My inner battle was won.
Nine months slowly crawled by
As I kept up with my grades
And whenever it just got too hard,
I feel to my knees and prayed.
At first, I wanted to give her up
She only reminded me of her father’s shoves
But the moment I looked in her baby blue eyes,
My eyes filled with love.
And that was twenty years ago
I am now thirty-six
With a beautiful young daughter
Who’s had her own problems I helped fix.
Though her life has never been easy
And money is always tight
To know that she’s happy and healthy
Lets me sleep with a smile at night.
I speak on behalf of women
All around the world
So that they believe they can find the strength
To take care of their little boys and girls.
‘So,’ I tell them in confidence,
‘If you need help, come to me
For I will never turn you away
Just trust in your strength and see.’
‘Though America will frown on you
And refuse your searching hand,
Just never give up and it’ll pay off
Because, really, girls, you were never bad.’
And when I’ve finished talking,
I turn to my daughter again
And think to myself, if I had a choice,
I’d make the same one again.
In my little village, Nkporo,
We celebrate the Iza Afa Festival
And the Most Magnificent Igboto Nma Festival.
The two are more than four hundred years old,
Our forebears told us that it began with
Their ancestors who immigrated from Heaven
When Chukwu was sharing the earth to broken Humans.
They got their teethless share of the earth and
There the magical festival began to grow teeth.
It is celebrated in the Eight Villages of Nkporo
But, not at the same time nor the same earthless year;
On that day of the treasured celebration, everyone is a nobody and somebody,
The wind would howls in sweet poetry,
the trees would dance back and forth in a blissful form,
And the papers and leaves go up in merriment.
Then the open windows shut with a clapping hands
Welcoming the house roofs which rattles with songs.
The most dreaded guilty masquarades come out,
Helter skelter, the lost children run here and there;
As their homes skip and elude them in the square.
The Villagers feel nothing but the joy of excitment in the air,
As the dusty sand fill the tensed atmosphere.
The houses clear and the streets is filled with people.
Then, the men and women of the festival comes out
All glowing and shining like the sun in their ragalias.
A bright flash takes the entire village,
The whistler whistles by in an unknown tone,
The Igboto Nma people are excited and joyful too
Because they would soon stop the payment of taxes
And levies among their age Grades.
Their responsibilities in the village ceased as they drop the heavy knife on the village square.
But the new responsibilities now lies on
The shoulders of the Iza Afa age Grade
Who are now being initiated into a new phase of Life.
The Igboto Nma clans leave a legacy to be remembered for in the innocent virgin community.
The sky in joy makes night of the day,
A noise that deafened comes from all the corners of the land,
Then the Eze Aja blesses them all and pray for long life and prosperit.
The rain makers keep the rain far off,
The fortune teller and the diviner dances all
Through the day and night,
At the end of their rituals at the village square,
They all goes to their tents and celebrate till dusk.
Food and drinks are abundant till the next day,
It always a day to reckon with in Nkporoland.