Long Ninth grade Poems
Long Ninth grade Poems. Below are the most popular long Ninth grade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ninth grade poems by poem length and keyword.
The scent of your soul
A caramelised breeze of fruit odours
reverberating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back in ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back.
Thoughts of you dwell in my mind
and your name resonates gently with my spirit
carrying me back to the shade
of purple orchids in evergreen woods.
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee-beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind.
Such revoked moments of unknown danger
Of fearless dreams , and defiant fun.
Other moments of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights ,sunrise and life.
I can still recall those weeks ,months ,years
till footprints marked separate paths
and our shared candles became the past.
Ah those lazy siestas, those days...those nights...
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice -cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the linen of your shirt which haunts me
like an alluring glance of almond - shaped eyes.
This afternoon, like other afternoons, I walk to the library
that knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own.
That fragrance 's gone now . All that is left is a fading perfume
of forgotten petals, between old books and dusty shelves.
Nobody here, except my silence and a rotten sliced apple ,
Vacuum- packed ,lacking both cinnamon and spice.
Back home, the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips
to play once more ,upon the worn out chords of my heart
What willI play , What will I sing , a song that isn't ours ?
Fermented wine I pour into an empty glass
Yearning to taste the grape for what it was
before all it was turned bitter, acidic and sour.
Alone , I wonder where you might be
So far or not so distant ,listening to the mood in my voice
on once upon a record player, Wishing on a star ?
The scent of your soul
a caramalized breeze of fruit odours
reverbrating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back in ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back
Your name resonates gently with my spirit
as thoughts of you dwell in my mind
Carrying me back to the shade
of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind
Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun
Other moments of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life
I can still recall the days,months,and years
till our footprints marked seperate paths
Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget?
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice-cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the colour of every new dream which haunts me
llike an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes
This afternoon,like other afternoons I walk to the library
which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own
That fragrance 's gone now,all that is left is the fading perfume
of forgotten petals between old books and dust
No one here except my silence ,and a rotten sliced apple
vacuum packed,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice.
Back home the mildewed strings of a guitar
await my fingertips to play once more
upon the worn out chords of my vacant heart
What will I play,what will I sing,a song which isn't ours?
Fermented wine I poured into a glass
Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was
before all it was turned out bitter,acidic and sour
I wondered about where you might be,distant or not as far
Listening to my voice on once upon a record player
Or Wishing on a star ?
A repost (written : 10/15/2014
The scent of your soul
a caramelized breeze of fruit odours
reverberating softly through my memory
Throwing me right back into ninth grade
where we sat side by side
Your right arm reaching slightly for my back
Your name resonates gently with my spirit
as thoughts of you dwell in my mind
Carrying me back to the shade
of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods
Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig
still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup
wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans
and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind
Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun
Other moments,of beauty and snow angels
Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life
I can still recall the days,months,and years
till our footprints marked separate paths
Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget?
Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice cream parlour
Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup
Fresh as the colour of your soul, which haunts me
like an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes
This afternoon , like other afternoons I walk to the library
which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own
That fragrance 's gone now.All that is left is the fading perfume
of forgotten petals between old books and dust
No one here except my silence,and a rotten sliced apple
vacuum packed ,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice.
Back home,the mildewed strings of a guitar
await my fingertips to play once more
upon the worn out chords of my heart
What will I play,what will I sing ,a song which isn't ours ?
Fermented wine I poured into my glass
Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was
before all it was turned bitter,acidic and sour
I wondered about where you might be ,distant or not as far
Listening to my voice on once upon a record player
Wishing on a star ?
Not for the contest
But thanks for the inspiration
Contest name-The Scent Of Your Soul
Her spell remains over me 44 years later
Once a bumblebee has kissed the nectar of Snapdragon
The creature is fever of succulence
She says, “You kiss so softly I think it’s a thing with guys with braces
My name is Bob.”
That’s quite a coincidence
After our third day at Civitan camp in Albion
High school awaits us all this fall
Someone wants to get their claws in us first
Suggests a new decade can be a better album spinning on its turntable
Then one from the 70s
I’m not so sure after all the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac
We sit together on a sidewalk
Still warm from the day’s sun
A bouquet of flowers cool overhead
Her lamp post hand rests on my blue jeans
She says she’s a witch and comes from Minnesota
“Bob from Minnesota.” I say
“That’s right. Bob from Minnesota. I came just for you.”
Moves her hand to my cheek traces her fingers to my lips
Abdomen to ovule
I remember her like this
And I suppose that is a magical spell as much as any
Long straight blond hair parted down the middle
Curtains half pulled back from the stage lights of her blue eyes
Thin lips a shoreline
A girl from Minnesota with a Michigan boy’s same name
Who says I kiss softly due to my braces
When I know it’s because I’ve never kissed a soft neck mystery
Until now
First taste of living free from home
She smokes a cigarette I can’t believe it
I ask for one she says “No I don’t think so.”
We talked much through that evening
About what? I have no memory
But she says when I dream of her she’s thinking of me
I sometimes still dream of her a lifetime later
Wish she’d come back
Wish I could rediscover how to kiss softly
Away from home again
A witch’s neck from Minnesota
I also remember
My dad said he was shocked at camp pick up
When he watched his young boy right in front of him
Kissed goodbye for so long and so softly on the lips
By an unafraid girl.
Re: Thank You to unknown
tom, dick, harry, tam, dame,
or dana from the MHS Class of 77,
though this alum
experiences public education
within lower providence jurisdiction
as a bum
er - minimally partaking advantage
of extra-curricular,
collegiate, inter-mural,
et cetera opportunities,
no not even a figurative crum
well nigh convey an impression of being dumb
bull door, deaf, and blind (with out faith no more),
nor passing love notes from
some anonymous girl, who
(after leaving a teasing message
informed asper getting a smart haircut
in ninth grade civics class
taught by Missus Comly
(do not quote me on my
power fully pointed excel lent spelling,
telling nothing, when out of desperation
I experience primal yelling)
this singular potential fledgling flirtation,
the extent from student,
who appeared morose and rather glum
exposing such vulnerability to be hum
millie hated, and bullied relentlessly,
whereat i wish to be a little boy
comforted by me mum
since that option out of the question,
thus aye didst never meet Miss Mot Toe
(e plumbs e num), perhaps cuz eye whiz numb
body, mind and spirit triage as if inebriated by rum
imagining the fighting spirit within me to thumb
or rather "flip the bird" to those,
this then anxiety prone
metaphorically rolling stone
whose metaphorical diet of worms also included
eating picked over sun bleached
un beak coming road kill crow - how yum
me does that seem, but gnome hatter
how grossly said foul dish
spurred via carrion (an analogy
representing verbal taunting
best left for hitch cocked birds) didst not appeal
not in the least did i give nasty brutes a "what for",
twas fear of getting creamed, fricasseed, irradiated...
Sitting here not wanting to run
from eyes that shine like a copper sun.
All that you say and do seems right
Your happiness- it shines so bright.
You can feel it as do I.
Just as an ocean’s waves,
how we feel can only ebb and flow
but it never really goes-
completely away you soon must go.
We have eternity yes I know.
There doesn’t have to be any goodbyes you say
but in the end I keep telling myself this is the way.
The way for me to move on while we’re apart,
for me to remember all the help you’ve been,
as well as a wonderful friend.
But still a goodbye won’t heal my heart.
I know it’s silly but yes it’s true,
I can’t imagine a day of my life without you there,
Showing just how much you care.
Never caring what I look like or wear
Because to you I always looked beautiful.
But not just on the outside, you saw my soul
and knew how to make me whole
and then persued your goal.
That day in ninth grade is a day I’ll never forget.
It changed my life and has given me,
a chance to see how much I am loved
by a kind and gracious God from up above.
You changed my life and now don’t you see
Why it’s so hard for me?
Hard for me to let you go after all the time-
Time that we spent together
and that felt like it would go forever.
You said I meant so much to you
and you knew you just had to hand me that book.
then all it took was one look
for me to see all you believed was true!
Which is why now I will let you go trusting,
trusting that in time God will make everything fine.
That somehow, someday
You’ll be sent my way.
And hopefully if and when he does,
I will be worthy of someone as wonderful and kind as you.
I don’t know what else to say but forever and always
I love you.
I truly do.
Form:
Some thing tells me that you lie
I feel the lie when you tell me
That you love me and miss me
Do you really feel my love?
Sometimes I want to cry
Other times I want to scream
To think that you made me into a man
You’re the first that I ever loved and the last
You’re the one that stays in my mind
Like tattoos on skin is the image in my heart
You were the one I truly wanted
My only desire was to make you happy
In my arms and under the moon
You took my innocence and my light
I sometimes think that if you took
Our relationship seriously and with no lies
Symbolically you took my virginity away
In the way that I no longer feel what I felt
When I first laid eyes on you in the ninth grade
The skips of heart beats when I talked to you
The nervous chill when we looked at each other
I doubt that you were a virgin and lets not
Touch that subject because you were far from it
Your kind is never rare a player is what you’re called
I’m 20 years old single with a lot of company
My heart is recovering slowly
Only another love will do the finishing touch
They say that men do not cry
Men are dogs and we play with love
They never say when woman hurt the heart
What’s the point being muscular and romantic?
If the heart will be damaged from lies
I gained wait in seven months not because of you
I think that a girl should love a guy just how he is
Love his kindness, romance, sarcasm, and poetry
A blow of betrayal is the deepest wound for men
I learned the hard way that innocence will always lose
You started the heat in my body
With you is when I learned about dating
And the flaws of love
Here and now no one will ever play me
I don’t wish you harm
Because I love you like the world does
But what comes around goes around
It is as simple as that
because…
the hardware store
owner smirked
when he collected
my money order
to pay the utility bill
to get the lights turned
back on.
because…
I slept on a worn out
mattress on the floor,
in a bedroom shared
with my older brother
who brutalized me for
sport, in a trailer on the
edge of a sugar beat field.
because…
I was so naïve as a
teenage boy that I was
completely ignorant of a
product called deodorant,
that I often wondered why
people who weren’t being
polite, usually gave me a
wide berth.
because…
on the school bus one day,
a friend from ninth grade,
David Fullington, said:
“hey Dan, everyone says you smell…
and I say-like crap he does!”
because…
I would lay on my mattress
at night and hear the legions
of mice scampering across
the aluminum ceiling and
between the walls of the trailer
on the edge of a sugar beat field.
because…
of all of the mouse turds
I would have to brush off
my clothes in my underwear
drawer when I was getting
dressed for school.
that is why,
when I was thirteen,
I discovered a mouse
trapped neck deep in an
open can of Crisco
sitting beside a sink full
of dirty dishes.
looking up at me,
with black dots for eyes,
and his nose twitching,
struggling to free himself,
but hopelessly mired
in the can of lard fat.
that I gulped down
the last of my Pepsi Cola
in the 16 ounce heavy,
greenish glass bottle,
and used the blunt end
to plunge the mouse under
for good to die a death of
torment and suffocation
in it’s Crisco grave.
and then
I belched loudly.
Twilight, with its soft light,
Its faint quiet shadows,
Falling on the hillsides,
The mountains, the meadows,
Brings to me such deep thoughts,
Such philosophic notions,
That I sometimes imagine
At daylight's cessation
What I would see
If I saw with God’s eye.
See all the atoms
And see all the stars,
See all the peasants
And see all the Tsars.
See all the peoples
Who live on the Earth.
See their life as remembered
From their moment of birth;
All the small memories
That make up their past:
Their teacher at her desk
In ninth-grade French class;
The sun on the leaves
That they saw as a child;
The wind in the trees;
That day a son smiled.
Memories no one but they
Can ever experience,
As we’re locked inside skulls
And mostly oblivious
To the vast inner lives
Of each one around us.
So as day draws to night
And the sunlight fades,
As I drift through my daydream
And wander through glades,
I imagine my life
Multiplied by the billions
If I could see even dimly
By a god’s holy vision,
And then by more billions
By all those who’ve died;
The immense web of memories
That surround us but reside
Always and forever
Just out of reach.
Encouraged by a teacher I adored,
I wrote a little poem at age nine.
I don't remember writing any more
till that same lady taught me in ninth grade.
One day when we were talking at her desk,
I saw a single laminated sheet.
I took a closer look and realized
the childish cursive on the page was mine.
She'd saved "My Winter Poem" all those years
and brought it as my gift. I almost cried.
When, as a poet, I feel uninspired,
I think of one who cared so long ago.
********************
Almost five decades later, I clicked "Send,"
and my first full-length manuscript took flight!
I prayed and waited for a "Yea" or "Nay"--
“Not right for us” or “We will publish this”!
Regardless of the outcome, I'd be glad
I’d mustered courage for this first attempt.
My memory of conquering the fear
of clicking “Send” is vivid to this day.
********************
My book came out about four years ago.
Commercially, it isn’t a success,
but I have no regrets. My bucket list
now lacks “Submit a full-length manuscript”!
Date: November 25, 2020
Poetry Contest Title: What Have You Kicked Off Your Bucket List placed 1st
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke