Long Graduate Poems
Long Graduate Poems. Below are the most popular long Graduate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Graduate poems by poem length and keyword.
I promise I would be a good girl when I go out into the world, I promise to stay out of trouble and return home in a hurry. I promised never to play in the street or walk barefoot, I promise I would stay in school and complete the semester and when the climate changed, I promise to graduate and study at the university.
It’s seems like yesterday when I utter such word when I was at play. I was thirteen and you were thirty-three and I always looked up to thee. You have always encouraged me to hold my head high and never look into ground that hold the dust of shame to its core, and the molten lava spewing through the hole and entering the spot where the disgraced soldier, conceptualize the plot.
I can still hear those words ringing in my ears as I walk the path that everyone fears, it is the moment of truth that is embedded in my youth and the ordeal I encountered on life’s journey comes back to remind me.
I could tell from the start that you are a heart breaker and the season come to remind me that the fault is within me and love is my destiny; when the autumn is done and winter comes along and the snow starts falling, it will fill the lakes and the trees, the ocean and sea and you will come and dance with me.
We will do the river dance on the roof and do the fire dance in a circle, then we will roll in the snow and touch each other dignity, and Boston and Richmond will come alive, Baltimore and Washington DC will take the dive, but New York and Philadelphia will ride out the snowstorm.
It seems like yesterday the climate changed and the clouds start fading away. I stood on those very steps and recited the whole chapter, I stood on that step and grasp every living character, I remember how you cast your eyeballs at me and how the mountain shook beneath the sea when you said, “will you marry me?”
“I am only thirteen, “she said, and I cannot lie in that big bed, “Yes I will marry you,” she replied, she held breath for a while and look on every side and you were still standing looking at her; then a gust of wind came, and you suddenly disappeared, and I stood on the step gazing at the wind.
The daughter's promise was fulfilled, and they walk boldly up the hill after thirty-three years in the making the universe had their blessing, the evidence is in the wind and you can hear it when you are still, winter is chiming in.
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly
I am a bus rider
That makes me unusual
For a white male
From an upper middle class family
Our people are not bus riders
Though some are subway riders
Bus riders are other people
The poor, minorities, immigrants
People who don’t drive
Because they are blind
Or have a DUI
And in my case
I don’t drive
Because I have bad vision
And bad coordination
Just never got the hang
Of the whole driving thing
Fortunately for me
My wife does the driving
But I still take the bus
From time to time
I rode the AC buses in Berkeley
As a child
Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus
Rode them long before BART came along
And afterwards as well
As an adult seldom rode the bus
But when I did so
I was always impressed
By the sheer diversity
Of the bus riding property
Hundreds of languages
All sorts of sexual orientation
Some were white
Most were not
Most of my fellow passengers
Were nice enough
Some were friendly
And some were lost
In their own thoughts
And a few
Were scary looking dudes
With the look
Of someone who had done time
And were capable of more violence
I also rode the bus
In Seattle as a graduate student
A lot of fellow UW students
And the usual immigrants
Minorities etc
And some white people
Commuting
And in DC
Over the years
I rode a lot of buses
Mostly to and from the metro
But I got to know
And love the DC buses as well
I also took the greyhound bus
Across the country
Several times over the years
All over the U.S.
From Bay Area to Stockton
From Bay Area to Clear Lake
From Bay area to NYC
NYC to DC
All over the USA
Taking the Greyhound
Was always an an adventure
Met a lot of interesting people
As people on long distant bus rides
Tend to open up and talk
To pass the time away
Overseas I took the bus
All over
In India, in Barbados
In Spain and in Korea
The Korean buses
For many years
Were difficult for foreign visitors
As the signs were all in Korean
Most have signs
Now in English, Chinese and Korean
And are much more foreigner friendly
Riding the bus
In America
Allows one access
To the underbelly of American society
The poor, the marginalized
The immigrant communities
That many middle-class white people
Just never see
And for that reason
I am glad
That I am a bus rider
The teachers and staff at the special school, Graysmill,
Did what they could to give the severes a life afterwards,
And they presumed I would be accepted to work,
At the CALL Centre of Edinburgh University, for a long time to lurk.
It’s now CALL Scotland, and researches special tech,
Develops assistive software, devices, and communication aids;
It digitalise written exams energetically and with voice,
For disabled kids who need to have their own writing choice.
But I went to Daniel Stewarts nursery, was well accepted, superior,
As I came top of the class for both words and numbers,
And as it is a top private school near Edinburgh’s city centre,
I found the sympathy hard at Graysmill ‘cos I was not inferior.
In the 70s and 80s they thought the special pupils couldn’t interact,
In mainstream schools where the able-bodied were understood;
Most of my friends had a dislike of normal, ordinary kids,
And didn’t understand my perceptions of relationality and brotherhood.
So as it was sometimes an effort for me to be part of the school,
And I just wanted to walk away from all things disabled or impaired,
The moment I started university where opportunity beckoned,
Where my intentions and abilities could be so aired.
I wanted to maybe be a software engineer for organisations,
But knew I couldn’t type all day every day with my foot,
So after uni got a part-time job at the CALL Centre, but felt self-defeated,
‘Cos I'd had blows with my parents about my own mechanism of input.
I did home computing growing up using my hands on the keyboard,
But did my school and homework with my foot, not good,
And since they wanted me to go to university, no big deal,
They forced me to keep using the faster mechanism, the switch for my foot.
So I resented the CALL Centre right throughout my young years,
For not believing or ingratiating me when I told them of my hand dexterity,
And as a graduate able to deliberate upon my case of disrespect,
I can say that my parents should have certainly been certified for neglect.
I did not renew my contract with the Call, was only for four months,
As I didn’t want to put myself through that close contact and innocence assumption,
But think that they do an note-worthy job for severely disabled kids,
And that my case was an exception to their loving, kind gumption.
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
A Rift in Time
By Elton Camp
Henry Higgins, B.A., M.A. Ph.D., graduate in physics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, is missing. Born August 8, 1950, he was thought of as a genius by some, but as a crackpot by others. Revolutionary theories on the possibility of time travel that he presented at scientific gatherings received a mixture of applause and ridicule. None of his articles have seen publication in peer-reviewed journals.
How his machine works is of a technical nature, thus certain to be of insignificant interest to the readers of this account. Suffice it to say that it works very well. Henry had seen his device disappear and reappear multiple times after being programmed to slide both forward and backward in time.
Finally came the day to test it in person. Surprisingly athletic for a man of his years, Henry strapped himself into place before the control panel, adjusted his eyeglasses and pulled a protective helmet over his thick, gray hair. He set the chronometer to early August of 2040 to determine if he was still living at that advanced age and what honors had been accorded him by the scientific community.
With a barely-discernable jerk, the time machine began its slide into the future, the red cancel button prominently alongside the digital display of the date. The world outside the device became a blur and Henry heard only a low hum from the engine. All seemed to be well as the years rolled by on the chronometer. At first, that is.
Henry noted with surprise the muscle atrophy and skin changes associated with extreme age. A slight looseness of his helmet caused him to discover that he was now as bald as his father had been in his late eighties. Henry’s eyeglasses no longer allowed him to read the control panel clearly. The truth hit him--he was aging along with the passing years. The inanimate time machine had shown no such effect, but it was different with a biological organism. He desperately punched the cancel button, realizing that, if his future self was not still living, his death was impending.
To his relief, the chronometer slowed and stopped. Without input from Henry, the time device began to move backward in time, slowly at first, and then at a brisk clip. By the time the read-out showed Henry’s present, his physical deterioration had been reversed and all was as before.
Today was the day Dragon’s brother Joey graduated from Nursing School.
And yes, Dragon wanted to be there, it was, really, going to be Sooo Cool!
Parents and students gussied up in all their finery, a sight truly to behold.
The University never, truly, looked better, as future dreams began to unfold.
And Joey gave Dragon, the best-est thing ever, his very own, special invite.
Now, we all know how things go amok, when Dragon is allowed on the site.
Every-thing was truly prepared, or so they thought, as Dragon sallied forth.
His own fire retardant Cap, Gown, and tassel to be immortalized, henceforth.
He was a part of the ceremony, to light their candles, in a symbolic gesture…
Before to the world, they, go forth, Why Dragon? Cause he’s such a treasure.
Yes, He’d receive an Honorary Degree, for all the lives, from fires, he’d saved.
Grandpa Troll was on the College Board of Directors, we were all amazed!
Apparently, Grandpa Troll had donated, a burn ward to the local Hospital…
Where our son Joey, would work, jump-starting his career, just a wee, little.
All the people Dragon had saved from fires, would be there to sing their praise.
As Joey wanted to dedicate his Nursing Career to burn patients, all his days.
It’s amazing how lives change, when strangers, are first allowed, into our lives.
And the Carpenter Trolls signed up for College, Architecture, was their drive.
Such determination, from a little Dragon egg, that was brought into our lives.
It brought so much purpose, to so many, when he chose, one morning to arrive.
Dragon roared out his glee and fire, sigh, as a surprise degree, was given to him!
All agreed no one needed the curtains, podium, or stage, as all sang, their hymn!
Hundreds of ready fire extinguishers, came into view, a new tradition was formed.
3 new degrees, came to the College curriculum, as thankfully, no one was harmed.
What three new degrees were added, you ask? Fire fighting, Burn Units Nursing,
Plus a Psychology Degree of “what change can do for your lives, if you let it in”.
Yeah, we’re all nuts! But very innovative, as our son, suggested, the new degrees.
Then he and Dragon led the hat toss, before leading all, out the door, to be free…
Written celebrating Joeys Nursing College Graduation. 5-15-2016
For Contest: Not written for any contest... Contest
the first day you entered this world
my eyes looked you over
my first thought in mind was who is this child
what kind of live will it lead must i see
be it good or bad you are apart of me
you are open for suggestion but will you take head
i promise protection trust me you'll see
hands off or its de fending i must do cause your life is my
responsibility no other understand our
bond yes its quit different and
unique God gave you to me for
just a little while i must take care of you
the best way i know how its not your father or
another but your mother who is talking to you baby hear my voice
through and through let it be a recording
and voice you'll never forget while on this earth
we'll have a bond a tight and true one that started while
you were in my womb love love love you
baby all your tender bones fingers and toes I see you off to
the first day of school and be there when you graduate from the last
day if you choose don't be a
fool after all that is not what i intended for my little spool
Form:
Vera Pavlova English Translations of Russian Poems
I shattered your heart;
now I limp through the shards
barefoot.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Winter? a beast.
Spring? a bud.
Summer? a bug.
Autumn? a bird.
The rest of the time I'm a woman.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Immortalize me!
With your bare, warm palm
please sculpt and mold my malleable snow.
Polish me until I glow.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Scales:
on the one hand joy;
on the other sorrow.
Sorrow is the weightier;
therefore joy
elevates.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk a tightrope,
balanced by a child
in each arm.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God saw
it was good.
Adam saw
it was impressive.
Eve saw
it was improvable.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A muse inspires when she arrives,
a wife when she departs,
a mistress when she’s absent.
Would you like me to manage all that simultaneously?
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You, my dear, are my shielding stone:
to sing behind, or bash my head on.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Remember me as I am this instant: abrupt and absent,
my words fluttering like moths trapped in a curtain.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have been dropped
and fell from such
immense heights
for so long that
perhaps I still
have enough
time to learn
how to
fly.
—Vera Pavlova, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vera Pavlova is a Russian poet. Born in Moscow, she is a graduate of the Schnittke College of Music and the Gnessin Academy of Music, where she specialized in music history. She is the author of twenty collections of poetry, four opera librettos, and the lyrics to two cantatas. Her poetry has appeared in The New Yorker and other major literary publications. Keywords/Tags: Pavlova, Russian, translation, Russia, epigram, shards, seasons, scales, tightrope, mother, child, arm, sorrow, joy, shattered, heart, broken, glass, limp, limping, barefoot, snow, sculpt, mold, polish
Dear Mama
I'm older now and so much has changed
I miss you don't get me wrong
but I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place
and I can't even tell you to your face
so I'm writing because my cowardliness has forbidden me to speak
like my lips have been locked shut and somehow
I lost the key
and my mind is overflowing so please don't hate me
I'm trying to balance my reality and form a friendship
without hurting your feelings
and I know I sound insane
I get it, you don't think it's that deep
but you don't see what I see
we haven't imagined the same future for me
you're so stuck on what you think is for me
that you're to blinded to witness
that I'm suffering Mama
I'm suffering
Dear Mama
thanks for keeping in touch
thanks for all the over-text lessons
but I'm good
I don't need a schooling session
I have teachers
I have counselors
I have coaches
For God sake I have a mom
who puts me in the right direction
you missed your chance years ago
So you need to hear this
let me go
I'm only hanging on by a thread
yet you still dangle from my leg
WHY? because when it snaps
we're both dead
Can't you see that I'm not just gonna hop up and leave when I turn 18
classified as a runaway
and for what?
so you can just go back to you old ways
Can't you see that you've broken me
caused my head to spin uncontrollably
I want to please you but I want to be happy
Can't you see that I'm suffering mama
I'm suffering
Dear Mama
I realized that I really don't know you
we had visits and sleepovers
I was a kid, you were all I knew
But I'm older now and so much has changed
I don't see things the same way
I've found somewhere else where I feel safe
I hope you will understand one day
I want you to be in my life
when I graduate
have kids
and heck when I'm a bride
and yes I'll still take your advice
but Don't turn advice into teachings
I hope now you can see my reality
and your heart isn't broken into a million pieces
just know I'm always here to be your friend
and if you never want to talk again I understand
but you see that would just add on to why I'm suffering mama
I'm suffering
Dear Mama
It's time
to say goodbye to that title
Dear Renisha
I love you always
-Angel
Note* (I have two moms)
I call my biological mother "Mama" and my adoptive mother "Mom"
Marvelous mitzvah "munchkin" minted
Thy eldest daughter Eden Liat
treasured more'n a pearl
(otherwise known as Rapunzel)...
donated cut hair to charity - you go girl,
ha, whereat your fine brunette locks of love
will be repurposed into wigs for kids,
and perhaps even don kepi
of trumpeting Bullwinkle, his Sciuridae
friend named Rocket J. Squirrel,
and/or his nemesis Natasha Fatale.
Kudos to thee savvy
twenty three plus year old offspring
voluntarily unwittingly hood
amazingly gracefully support
exhausting, flagging, grueling...
stricken young spirits and bring
joie de vivre during
treatment and convalescence
of challenging treatment ailing,
perhaps hoop fully nipping
terminal illness in bud
beaten into remission,
whereby family, friends medical staff sing
ode to joy cherishing
nothing short of a blessing.
Said sensible, smart and
stalwart inadvertent mentor,
a splendidly mirthful and mindful lass
yes, tis biased opinion, quite a
truckload of abilities she did amass
even fending bullies who tried to harass
attractive petite proportionate physique
confident smile shown back
courtesy looking glass
and papa cognizant,
how her art of humbleness
helped her succeed as top class
high achiever at Harriton High School,
especially acing rigorous
International Baccalaureate (IB)
(worldwide, nonprofit education program
plus even when just a little girl
attending Belmont Elementary
promise of success,
my feeble accomplishments
"star student" did quickly surpass
with flying colors earned free pass
concomitantly acquiring invisible
magic ring, and carpet made of brass
the latter powered by
Walt Whitman wrought leaves of grass
at University of Pennsylvania
earning stripes as Ivy League graduate
freelance activist while completing
internship linkedin with
University of Southern California.
Spellbound birth father
internally rejoices ta deum,
we knew e'er since Eden Liat
healthy growing fetus within the womb
whip smart progeny
undoubtedly healthy unbridled maturation,
I vicariously exalt storied accomplishments
accrediting and applauding
every iota offspring earned
blood, sweat and tears
created deafening sonic boom,
and where infinitesimal blazing saddle
burned blinding trajectory
catching eminent potential groom.