Long Highschool Poems
Long Highschool Poems. Below are the most popular long Highschool by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Highschool poems by poem length and keyword.
What was missing in my life?
You!
I lived many years without you,
not knowing what I was missing.
One day a surprise came to us
at an unexpected late- in- life date,
it was a baby boy.
He smiled at us with blue eyes
and bald little head,
and we were complete.
I treasured the cuddly feel of you,
fitting into my arms so well,
your weight seemed just right,
to pack you around every day,
even as you grew and grew.
You added an element to my life
that had been missing.
I now learned to slow down,
stop at playgrounds, push your swing
and sit in the one next to yours,
leaning back, looking up into
the crowns of swaying trees.
Taking walks, delighting in gathering fallen
red maple leaves, watching bugs
and birds.
Frogs and crawdads appeared in our bathtub,
I emptied your pockets while doing the wash
of rocks, seashells, dried katidid shells,
sticks and marbles.
I learned that stepping on jacks
at night while going to the bathroom hurts.
On your first fishing trip you accidently hooked a duck
and cried because you thought you hurt it.
I already knew of your compassionate heart.
You and I laughed and cried watching " Free Willy,"
"The fox and the hound" and "Alladin."
You brought joy to my life.
I learned that it is exciting to watch you play soccer,
I cheered and hooted and watched from the bleechers,
while you ran your little heart out,
I watched for signs of your asthma acting up,
but luckily you seem to outrun it.
On the first Halloween you were a little
smiling pumpkin that I pushed in the stroller,
but soon you were running with your buddies,
dragging a pillow case filled with candy,
and I had to scurry to keep up with you.
On your first day of school I was nervous,
I had to leave you with strangers.
Several of us Moms were hanging around the hallway
peeping into the door's little window,
until they made us leave.
Then came field trips, help with homework,
I was "room mother" to be near you and help,
and visited you in the cafeteria at lunchtime
on "Parent's day."
Suddenly, you are taller that me!
The braces came off, and you have a summer job,
and you are very good with it, I am proud of you.
You now have a Highschool Diploma and
are getting your driver's licence,
but you will always be my little boy,
and I will love you forever.
Love, Mom
We sat in a room.
A bedroom, a messy one.
One with a mixture of clothes, garbage and drugs scattered everywhere. There
was random writing on the walls, like grafitti, and the paint was chipping. We sat
mostly in silence, we knew what was going to happen that night. When he arrived
we got into the van and he introduced us to his stash.
We got to the highschool commons. It was a giant building with tall ceilings,
giant pillars, and big glass windows, and it had no supervision inside. Before
going inside we smoked some hash outside. There had to be at least 400
people there. The room had flashing lights, loud music, and teenage wreckage
everywhere. The people were forming a kind of mosh; their arms flinging and
they screamed to see if they could out-roar the music.
The effect was deafening. Nearly all the stash-ridden tables were smashed to
the floor, so we hurried to the only stnading one left. He dumped his stash on the
table.
The lights plus the music plus the emotion made you want to dig into the stash
and join the mosh. That's what we did, but we didn't join the mosh right away. We
sat around the table and watched the masacre, finding it overly amusing. We
laughed at mearly everything as the acid took it's effect. I finally got up to mosh.
Everything wanted your body in, and it had already stolen your voice, for you
couldn't hear yourself scream. Before I could get my feet off the ground, I couldn't
help but notice that there were people making out everywhere, as they moshed. I
laughed at them, but was jelous.
I started kissing someone, unsure of whether or not it was a guy or girl. We
stripped off our clothes until we were nearly naked, but then he/she backed away.
They rejoined the mosh.
I stood still, and the mosh parted before me leading me to the glass wall. I
walked, barefoot, to where it stood surprisingly clean. I took the object in my hand
and smashed the gleaming wall, screaming with the music. The crowd cheered
and roared until my ears were ringing and I was nearly deaf. I moshed into the
middle of the mosh and everyone jumped to my rhythm. I felt hundreds of eyes
watching me, so I closed my eyes and let my body go. He/she found me again,
and kissed me again, and the masacre disappeared. Eventually so did whoever I
was kissing.
Summer love, starts slowly. But as the summer nights last longer, so do the
feelings of love resonate in the air for young lovers. This is exactly where our
story begins. It all started near the end of August. I had just found out my family
was on our way, to packing up in a race to move to Toronto Ontario in just about
seven days. I had no idea, how much my life in Everett would have changed my
life forever.
There was this boy, of course there always is a boy. In highschool he seemed to
be the quiet type. You know the mysterious ones, that you look at in the corner of
your eye and tease. He barely exchanged glances back, and when he did I would
always flash a mischievious smile. Oh the glory days, when you get all dizzy from
the sensation of "crushes". I have never been able to clearly tell someone, when
I feel something for them, and this was definetly a case. We did as most people
do these days. We exchanged msn's and spoke nightly for hours. In the secret
quiet of the night, I finally got to know him. He was kind, and sweet, the type of
guy I never thought I would fall for. It just seemed right, if you know what I mean. I
always went for the angsty, bad boy basically the hottie in the leather jackets
leaning over their trans- ams. So what was so special about James. He was this
diamond in the rough. At first glance, almost dull. But as you looked closer, the
most brilliant color. He could make me laugh, he had one of the highest
intellects of anyone I had ever known, and the most captivating eyes. I remeber
looking in them, and feeling as if the dark brown pools could suck me in and
keep me there forever.
Our relationship to start, was that of a slow one. He went with walks with me,
humourously walking on the other side of the path from me. I remeber always
thinking, " When is this kid going to smarten up, and hold my hand." But everyone
has those sort of stories when they are young. From there on out every second of
the day, I could I would be spending the day with him. He was the one release
from the pressures of the hustle and the panic inside of my home. My parents
indecision to pick up our lives and move was to say the least exhuasting. I grew
nauseated as every day past, because what I knew what was to come was for
the worst.
Form:
The water tower stands above the town and can be seen for miles around. It has a
ladder leading up to the base of the tank. This ladder has been climbed by countless
teenagers, for thrills and mischief and young kids answering a dare.
Over the years, many symbols and words have been painted on the tank. From
Highschool mascots, to hearts of love and proposals. Flowers and Holiday wishes
joined in.
It had always been one mans job to keep the water tank painted and to cover up
any impromptu artwork. He always took his time about it though. Making sure that
each message stayed up at least two weeks before he would paint over it.
One day he received a phone call. On the line was a little boy. This little boy asked
the man to please not paint over his message he had written on the tank, as it was
very important.
The man explained to the boy that it was his job to keep the tank painted and
clean. But, that he would leave his message up there, untouched, for two weeks. The
little boy, with tears in his voice said "Thank you, I hope it will be long enough".
The next day, as the man was driving past the water tank, he looked up. He saw no
message or pictures of any kind on that tank. He shrugged and assumed that the boy
had just been to scared to make the climb all the way to the top.
Three weeks later, the mans phone rings again. It was that same little boy. Very
excited, he proclaimed "Mister, I just wanted to thank you for not painting over my
message...It really worked!"
Intrigued, the man went to the tank with his paint and supplies. He climbed to the
top, set down his paint and brush. He walked around that tank several times and still
did not see a message. But, as he bent to pick up the paint can, there it was.
Towards the bottom of the tank, in crayon with a young child scroll was written:
"Dear God, pleeze let my daddy come home frum war I miss him
Your frend Mike"
The years passed. Many drawings and words were painted over by one man and then
the other, as they took the job over. But never, the one small patch, with that heart
felt prayer.
For the contest: Story Time
Hostess: Carol Brown
Placement: 2nd
Winnipeg
Every day you drive down my street, through my neighborhood, anticipating the day we'll infinitely meet
I tried to ignore the feelings I've felt since the moment I walked into your convenient store but it ever holds the creative precipice of something more
You stood less than a foot away while I unconsciously held my nervous breath
You were holding yours too
If only we knew
But now we do
The truth isn't always true
Nor is it free for you or me
The wind blew
Scholastics were very few
Punished for an era that never grew
Her encyclopedias aren't new
Faux dictionaries are the fiction of the past in belated mantras that had to last
Even the fire burns out before it realizes why it was lit
The fireplace watches faithfully as grandpa snores & grandma knits
Mom & dad don't babysit when their tireless infants throw a raging fit, left to wonder where they misplaced a generations first aid kit
Burned their fingers when they forget the oven mitt
We've been there
We've done that
Old news is tucked neatly into older hats
Bootlegs
Winnipeg
Old age is something you earn for the sake of the wisdom you asked to learn
Flowers and trees
Bushes and leaves
The oldest trick in forbidden words still suffers the plot it deceives
Forgotten?
Never
Hidden?
As rightfully as its bidden
Good ole darling ridden
You see the warrior emerging from shame
You see the fighter with nothing left to blame
I still don't even know your last name
But I thank God for you every day because this isn't some highschool football game
There are no players
No more cheerleaders to haunt the jocks in old dressing rooms across the parking lot
They found his body on the rocks bound to a body bag stitched up with old rags, tied with dog tags because some still remember the night they were shot for every secret they carelessly forgot
Pierce her scarlet letter with new fangled knots until she morphs into something better
Take your orders
Draw the margin around the recycle bin's borders
You know exactly what it takes to win
Your folly may never be another man's sin
Dolphins eyelashes seduce that grin from fin to friendly fin
My love, please let me in
© Sarah Herring
Africa Kills Her Sun in Ken Saro-Wiwa short story
So far the greatest short story i've ever read
Where the blackest pen lives
With the blackest ink with the darkest hue
Yet the blackest truth out there even to this day
Of the oppression, dictatorship, killings, fear, corruption and discrimination
A call for freedom
Africa still living in the shadows of colonialism
But Africa took an initiative, a positive compass
Mary Muthoni Nyanjiru, an unsung hero
Shot dead during the colonial era for her fight against colonialism
Wangari Maathai, the first African woman to win the Nobel peace prize
She planted one tree at a time, a voice for the environment, a fighter for women rights
Charity Kaluki Ngilu has played many roles in politics
One of the first kenyan female presidential candidates
I still remember the 1997 elections
Pamela Jelimo and Catherine Ndereba
Through their marathons, they have paved many seas
I remember those cross country days back in primary school, it was tough
I applaud you girls
Grace Ogot, East African best known woman author
The mother of Kenyan literature
Her words had power, and her actions showed it
Captain Irene Koki Mutungi, the first African female dreamliner captain
Flying higher and higher, more girls dreaming higher and higher
Kakenya Ntaiya, among the top 10 CNN heroes of 2013
I've listened to your Ted Talk of "a girl who demanded education"
About how at the age 12 you made a deal with your dad to undergo female circumcision if he would let you go to highschool
And that happened, you even went to college
And then came back and founded a school for young girls
Lupita Nyong'o, it was hard to watch "12 Years a Slave"
Because truth brings out a lot of anger, but at the same time it has to be told
The first Kenyan actress to win an Academy Award.
It nice to see you in magazines but it feels even more nice to know that there is a girl out there in some village
Who now believes it's possible because of you
Africa saved her daughter, and by doing so
It saved all
Sources > coming soon:-)
When Your Daughter is a Victim
When your daughter is a victim,
you tip-toe around your words,
you avoid the subject,
you become fearful for her.
When your Daughter is a victim and she lied to you about it
for seven years.
you feel guilty as you see her struggle to face her inner demons.
You stand speechless, not knowing what to say as you watch her crumble in front of you.
you feel helpless that in that moment seven years ago,
you believed what she said when you asked.
When your daughter is a victim,
you can never look at the same way.
you try but to you she looks like that 14 year old girl,
Lost.
Scared.
Confused.
When your daughter is a victim you try to get her father to open up and talk to her about it,
but he wont.
He feels like a failure because he let such a terrible thing happen to his baby girl.
he pulls away.
He shows no support.
When your daughter is a victim you push and you reach out as much as you can because it hurts to see her in so much pain.
you feel horrified that such a thing could take her to the point,
the point that she wanted to take her own life.
When your daughter is a victim,
you do your research so you can try to know exactly what to say when she needs it the most.
you seek justice for her but she won't let you.
you raised her to be proud.
When your daughter is a victim you take matters into your own hands.
you don't want it to happen to anyone else, so you tell the principal of that highschool.
She is furious, angry, but she wont tell you.
she knows you came from a place of love and fear.
When your daughter is a victim you do everything you can to make it right.
to pick up her pieces that are scattered across the ground.
you try to put her back together and turn her back into that sweet innocent 14 year old she was before her boyfriend raped her.
When your daughter is a victim,
she wont let you because she is happy with who she has become,
that strong confident 21 year old woman who bears her scars
with PRIDE
and RESILIANCE.
-Victoria/ 2016
For you
I would
create a mixtape
which I know is an ancient technology but
with me and you it is just that simple.
I race to you like we used to rush into each other's arms in highschool
where our only concern was whether or not we could get the courage to talk to each other without shaking.....
This is the playlist that I would prepare for you.
First and foremost I'd put Hate to see you go by The colour fred
Because it is true as the song has said
Truly if I could I would become a
sculptor...
I would place the unformed chunk of my clayself and spin.
Create myself in the image of your ideal perfection.
I would spin
Faster than the spools could play the songs on re-wind
I want so badly to make an impresion
and I know that the the tape can only contain up to 35 minutes for you to get the underlying
message
October Nights, by Yellowcard
will follow soon after
because that exotic night in your car
where the street lights were our blankets
is constantly on replay in my mind
Right before the heavy nod of sleep
I daydream
You are laying beside me, and in this private realm of thought
We travel like archeologists over the naked lay of our connected bodies
and I live through the pleasure that this daydream explodes into my mind like
parasympathetic nerve ending fireworks
Remember will play softly by Allister
and I'll hold onto the hope that you will forgive me of this time in our lives where I have to
press pause
for I am broken still
Knaans waving flag will resound from your stereos
For 'tis this soundtrack where my battle cry is derived
I know it is just the beginning but I will push myself past my barriers
Pieces by Sum 41 will be your lullaby
because this is the song that brought back the blue into my gray eyes
Hopefully side one will bring you comfort
because you are everything I am looking for in a guy
I am but a broken winged robin who has got to learn once more to fly.
and lastly Blink 182's I miss you
Because there is not a moment in the day where my mind wanders back to you
Form:
I am in love with another highschool besides my own
and I know that sounds kinda of strange
but visit with me for a second and I will explain
As soon as I walked through the doors of this highschool
I was welcomed with opened arms
I wasn't judged
I met some of the best people I think i'll meet
inside this building I learned about true friendship
I learned about true love
I got lost in it's glitz
and the story behind the glam
The people in this school
Form a unique kind of pack
full of talent and so laid back
A little gated community
that I had to take a train and a bus to reach
but the time that I spent in this school
truly touched me
changed the person I grew to be
I fell in love with the people
who showed me a different way
they made me see a different me
that I couldn't glimpse in the mirror
A me no one else pointed out
or even gave any effort to figure out
in my school I was just normal
In this school I met him
in this school I fell for him
In this school I felt special
At this period in my life
I was in love with another highschool
and it may sound weird to the untrained ears
but for the people who've been there
this school was heaven
I wish I could have attended
On the first day of school, I long for its end,
Yearning for my Jag family, my heart's dear friend.
The food, a tragic horror, but health's their decree,
A social kid silenced, a shadow of me.
The theater, my love, now comedy's the song,
No musical notes, just laughter all along.
Kids in the hallways, screams like a river,
Curses flow freely, make me shiver.
Classes so easy, they killed my ambition,
My competitive spirit, a faded rendition.
All going awry, it's hard to ignore,
From the high standards I held, I've fallen to the floor.
I miss my friends, both near and afar,
Even my enemies, each familiar scar.
Teachers who loved me, held me close with care,
And her, oh, I miss her, I'm painfully aware.
Mrs. Berry, the music muse so grand,
Made me fall in love with notes and sand.
My classes, my freedom, all now a blur,
Lost in the chaos, I wish to confer.
I miss being a jaguar, my school spirit's flame,
In the building's embrace, I felt no shame.
My name in the hallways, a story to tell,
A prince of the jags, oh, how I swell.
Lunch that connected, made smiles complete,
An environment where my heart could beat.
The air of hope, so optimistic and bright,
Made me feel whole, in its gentle light.
I miss all that made me, I miss it so,
The longing inside, like an endless flow.
Oh, if for a week, my story I could rewrite,
With hyperboles of joy, I'd reach greater heights,
I'd smile more, play more, hug and unite.
My heart taking flight, In the warmth of the jags,
I'd appreciate the love, give it in return,
In the embrace of the jags, forever I yearn.
Oh, grace, let me return, to my home so dear,
Where she awaits, and those I hold near,
The jags where unity knows no divide or fear,
In their love, I'd find solace, wipe away every tear.
In the home of the jags, where colors blend,
And every soul, cherished, my wounds they mend,
Once safe and content, on them, I depend,
Oh, let me rewrite my story, and bring it to the end.