Long School Poems
Long School Poems. Below are the most popular long School by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long School poems by poem length and keyword.
It was my first day of elementary school,
everyone for themselves was the only rule.
Mother would leave you at the bus the stop,
from that point on, it was all or nothing.
Picked up by the bus, then dropped off in front,
Picked on by the older ones all just for fun.
Cutting through chatter of innocent adolescence,
Children scatter as the bell rings,
while teachers take attendance.
I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America.
And to the republic for which it stands, one nation,
under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
What I learned as a young boy in hope to become a young man,
was to have pride and be humble and grateful for this land.
I as a man did not experience the struggles of my ancestors,
for every hardship they faced, was for me to live better.
I take nothing for granted,
I refuse to use the word never,
I do what I dream of,
I dream of forever.
It passed him by how much he spent to card tap happenings
old school drunk home found wrapped on the mat again
Take it back sacks honour cracks hes grappling tryna build facts past just like he clasp vasline
How's a man last with the past world grasping him
Stuck and holding fast only things flasks masking him
Sorrows or the horrors of his making turn directions
Choosing life or exit signs emergency protection
Last glass was half assed let's make this one a winner
No rent goodbye when roof is sky a bentos pie for dinner
Tryna lean to something just to calm his own beliefs
Knowing that to pass the time
he sleeps as light release
On many a workday morning,
I sit at my kitchen table and
watch the BIRDS lite on electric
lines, or listen to their sweet
chirps from the treetops.
I watch the SUN rising over the
horizon, and in early Fall, I observe
the green FIELDS of harvest slowly
yielding their bounty. Left behind after
a few weeks of sweat and toil is a sea
of brown SOIL prepping for the Spring.
I will often feel the earth rumbling
beneath my feet from a passing TRAIN
rushing her huge and heavy cargo
to markets both North and South.
It won't be long before I'll witness
with joy the MIGRATING BIRDS flying
South to survive the cold of Old Man Winter.
In my own mind, I am overwhelmed by the sheer
commonality of all the above. Indeed, they are all
so very faithful in executing their God-given task.
Moreover, presently, I am most impressed and find
myself musing over the faithfulness of a person behind
the wheels of a big yellow bus with bright and flashing
lights. She's a SCHOOL BUS DRIVER who with great
dedication, passes my home every school-day morning
at 7 AM. I tell you; her punctuality inspires me.
And her employer should be proud of her.
Awesome Kid Grandma
It’s what my granddaughter calls me
When she writes of my deeds
She thinks I have super powers
The children at school ask me to
“Not tell the grownups”
I am young-at-heart, but they
think I am
just
young
I am an orange woman,
paisley, wearing love beads
Always open for business
Listening and learning
Waiting for you to give me a nod
Just a glimpse of what you need
For I am a rescuer, and I want to
rescue everybody
Since I was eight I have had dreams
of building a dog and cat sanctuary,
so they could all live.
I also dreamed of providing a home for mommies with babies.
Later recognizing that as a home for unwed mothers.
But at eight, that part was hidden from me.
In The Light of a Fading Moon
David J Walker
Eternity was the first summer after
The first grade and the first time
You thought the days would never end
Eternity was the school clock in the
Afternoon waiting for the bell to ring and
The unorganized football game to begin
Eternity was two weeks before Christmas reviewing
Last year’s behavior in the fear Santa might be real
And in which ledger did he print your name
Eternity was report card day
Hoping for the best - fearing the worst
And knowing it was too late to challenge fate
Eternity was thinking about this girl
Whose very presence made you deaf and dumb
And afterword the words would finely come but too late
Eternity was thinking about 10 years in the future
As if life was a bus ride with stops on every block and
A different adult to stamp your transfer ticket to continue riding
Eternity was that first kiss with a girl
As adventurous as you wondering if girls really
Wanted to be kissed but you had no one to ask
Eternity was standing on a stage receiving your
First real diploma that turned into a Mesa
The veranda overlooking a baron prairie of the future
Eternity comes sooner as 50 years later turns
Into single yesterday afternoons with a time limit
To fill in the paint by the number memories in
The light of a fading moon
At the Charlie Norton School of Performing Arts
They only taught armoured acting parts.
They had a special maintenance man
Always kept busy with his little oil can
Keeping the suits free of fleas
And all the joints moving with ease,
Especially the cunningly concealed vent
For the disposal of excrement
And the removal of noxious gasses
Which even the refined on occasion passes.
Trying to learn lines could be hell
When surrounded by your own trapped smell.
In the event of a dearth of suitable parts
They taught other non performing arts
Like sweeping leaves away from drains
In the event of torrential rains.
As this part of the course was free
It didn’t carry its own degree
But for the elite chosen few
It could be a unit of your NVQ.
The Charlie Norton School of Performing Arts
Gives your career a powered kick start
Younger Days
By Franklin Price
9/20/2019
When I look back in wonder, to when I was young and bold
And people thirty years of age were all washed up and old,
And as their words of knowledge, approached my thickened head,
My ear drums did beat so loud, to much of what they said.
The school work was too easy, and so often I was bored
Yet the teachers were persistent, and for that I thank the Lord
Homework was so useless and was only for a fool
I did not do a lot of it, was as stubborn as a mule.
The older that I got back then, the more I tempted fate
When I became a senior, I would barely graduate
The year was nineteen-sixty-four, the world was in a mess
I tried to go to college, it did not work, I must confess
I needed more direction, to help me grow in age,
The military offered that, though it wasn't all the rage.
I enlisted in the Air Force, that I never will regret,
Did it on my own volition, did not do it on a bet.
Four years went by quickly, the last in Viet Nam
SOS for breakfast, in MRE's was sometimes spam
Was Air Force educated, the last formal of my life
Had been to war, and married, and divorced from my first wife
Mustered out in Washington, came back to Florida soon
Went to work at KSC, sent the first man to the moon.
The year was nineteen-sixty-nine. It was there I met my wife.
We're married fifty years, this year. She's the best thing in my life.
Could write of all that happened in those many years between,
Of all that I have been through and everything I've seen.
This was about my younger days, this part that I have told,
If there is something I have learned, it's that thirty isn't old
A child's home
Running in the courtyard
when sun is at its peak,
Harsh voice of grandpa
as he would sneak,
Long hours with friends
as play doesn't tire,
Books don't fascinate
and mother spits fire,
For watering of the garden
we are in a queue,
Hand pump crackles
with a rusty hue,
Dining room fragrance
as mother cooks my fav,
Jealous are others
favouritism is nothing new,
Oh the bedroom I share
with my bro and sis,
Cartoon time please spare
TV remote I crave,
Sound of train passing by
as window panes rattle,
In sleep I travel afar
to return to wake up alarm,
Who likes to leave early
for lessons at school,
No time for splashes
that I cherish in the pool,
Recall the greater aplomb
in my childhood home,
No worries, no enmity
purity at heart, integrity,
Memories chase dreams
in morning screams,
When croaks the raven,
child's home is a heaven!
Written Sept 22nd, 2015
For Verlena's contest
Awarded 1st place win
We all had homemade dresses for prom; well, nearly all of us.
This was back in 1970 while black and white Viet Nam War photos were on TV
Every night, we saw such sadness.
Prom was a reminder of childhood.
Back to the Bibbity Bobbity Boo of Cinderella.
We girls were wearing empire waist dresses.
It was the style, little bows at the top of our hair.
We were fancy poodles, primping in our two inch heels.
Not high ones like our mothers. We had already fallen off those.
Traded in our hip hugger bell bottoms that magical night
For dresses in chiffon, polished cotton, and satins.
We were so shiny, it is a miracle a murder of crows did not carry us off.
The boys had on their best suits; not tuxes.
We were in a small Iowa farm town.
Many of the couples would marry two weeks later after graduation.
I remember how hard the junior class worked to make it beautiful for us.
There were tin foil stars and crepe paper streamers everywhere.
A strobe light, and music piped in from the folk heroes of the time.
Peter Paul and Mary, Mama Cass, Simon and Garfunkel.
Sometimes a song by Cher or Bette Midler but not as often.
The food was fantastic. The company wonderful.
Our first semi-formal dinner. I have never forgotten it.
In one way it was like middle school which we called junior high.
The boys stood around talking and laughing, and the girls danced like mad.
It was such an innocent and fun time! Taking the Viet Nam War,
And the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King
Out of our minds for one magical bibbity bobbity boo night.
May 1970. A memory that uplifts me to this day.
The last time I spoke to some of my classmates.
As a few were sent to Viet Nam after graduation never to return.
I see the students of OLSH College, whispering and wondering
Some look lifeless, drained dry of will
Some looked scared, struggling still
I see them travel from grass to concrete
Daring not to cross the street
I see the leaves, the trash, the dirt
Feeling unwanted, discarded and hurt
I see a magpie, flying so free
At OLSH College, I see
I hear the bustling of OLSH College, trying to wrap up the day,
The scraping of chairs, the screeching of doors and footsteps of students who stray
I hear the wind whooshing past my ear
The magpie cawing, brazen, without fear
I hear pencils cry as they slave away
Sharpeners scream as they are forced to slay
Yet I hear the laughter of happy students
Bribed with games and chocolate presents
Satisfied and satiated, I listen as they cheer
At OLSH College, I hear
I smell the odour of OLSH College, sweat slipping slowly under the sweltering summer sun
Perfume masked the onion-like smell with flowers and freshness in one
But nothing beats the intoxicatingly tangy lemon tree
And the pleasant sweetness of the Azalea Charlie
And yet I am lulled into the canteen
Of chocolates treats sickeningly sweet
My nose leads me to the scent as I beg my stomach to quell
At OLSH College, I smell
I feel the bricks of OLSH College, each with its own story to tell
Hard and brittle the bricks are underneath
The peeling white paint that hides beneath
The dreary posters smooth to the touch
Of plastic and paper rough
But just outside the cool windowpanes
Wet, little droplets race down as it rains
Swift glances at those blotches I steal
At OLSH College, I feel
I taste the bitterness of OLSH College, of teachers and students alike
Unmotivated girls, not ready for the world
Eating their lunches with delight
It seemed the bribes they had been given
Of sticky gummies red and blue
Had not changed their minds, to gossip they were smitten
Oh, teachers don’t you wish they were chewing glue!
Yet I am putrid green, brimmed with envy
My stomach has gone on a one-month vacation
I wish I were a magpie, eating for free
I would take left and right at slightest invitation
Dear Ramadan, please make haste
At OLSH College, I taste