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.
Mommy deemed the three-year-old me as an honour
Said that I should become a doctor
Stethoscope and thermometer are in her gift bag
To spark the zeal in me, she set to wave a green flag.
Daddy came all running to put a hard-hat on my head
Said that I should become a builder like his dad
I'll be a great architect, he believed, he already knew
He said it's inherited to me and is nothing new.
Aunt wanted me to follow her baking love
Her skills, no doubt, deserve a bow.
Cakes, cookies and all that she bakes
will now be taught to me, with no breaks.
Uncle Tom said I should inspire the world with my words
He weens that they're powerful than the swords.
An Orator or a writer, a counsellor or a life coach
Be it whatever, he says, I should be there for those who approach.
Everyone has their plans for my future
Looks like I don't need school or a teacher.
I'll be home-schooled and trained every day
But should it start right from the 3rd birthday?
I'm afraid they'ld stop talking to each other
As their dreams for me greatly differ.
Keeping their dreams aside for a minute
I thought of what I wanted, for a moment.
I want to smell the soil when it rains
I want to swill down all the snow flakes
I want to ride a horse and tame rabbits
I want to make friends and take new hobbies.
I want to build castles with clay
And play Peekaboo with Jill and Jay
I want to string the stars and crack the clouds to rain
Eat lots of cake and fake a belly pain.
I love dirty feet and dusty hair
Clay and Crayons is what I care
Play, play, play the whole day
I plead you all not to block my way.
The images plucked from a full soft drive like over blown berries
threatening to fall……blasted to the humus. Swing chains creak.
The high-backed, heart carved, chalk white, front porch swing sways;
to the kicking of your feet. Beside me, you sit in spankin’ new school clothes singing.
Together wrapped like pretzel dough, we warble, annoying the sparrows.
The bumble bee yellow and black stripped school bus is late.
The dreamy cottage bungalows’ screen porch perches like a tree house ledge
over the four story drop off. Hundred year old sentinel pines tower still above us,
limbs house hug. The occasional cone drop ricochets down the trunk
to a soft needle landing, and a bouncing roll before falling off the retaining wall
We own the world. King and Queen of the Mountain are we. I sing “Ducky Duddle” to you.
You laugh. All the joy in the world in such a small sound. Oh, how I loved to make you happy.
Two short years before, even your name was new to you..my boy, Jamie.
What is your philosophy? The expert at work asked.
He was putting on airs, and I simply wanted to pass.
What are your educational theories and dichotomy? He demanded.
I thought him arrogant and off-putting, and ever so highhanded.
It was my first second at this school, not in the building yet.
I was carrying six boxes, and holding two bags by their net.
I prefer to keep my ideas firmly in my head, I told the silly man.
Surely you have theories, he argued, without lifting a single hand.
Yes, I certainly do, I thought but you are above rude and no help.
I nodded and marched back to my car for my net and greenish kelp.
Can’t hold the door, he told me, as he whisked in holding not a thing.
Come and tell me your theories when you get time and everything.
Sex and Grades
Teachers in my time
taught math, and science and history.
We never cared if they were single,
or married or divorced.
It never even crossed our minds to ask...
if they were dating,
as that was too personal
on every level.
We just wanted to know
what questions would be... on the test,
with the rest
of everything we would really need to know
before we had to go...
out into the real world.
Keep your rainbow flags at home.
Don't drag your laundry to school.
There is toilet paper on your shoe,
look down and remove it.
If you are confused, go back
to the place you began.
Ask your own mother to try again.
as she failed to express
how much you meant to her,
or anyone else.
As my mother already told me the truth.
I am exactly who I am supposed to be,
I don't need you to judge me, you see.
I have been blessed and made whole.
I have been surrounded by family and friends.
I don't know what it is to be lost,
but if I am or become so,
I know that the Lord,
will find me, and show me again...
that I am his.
As for school,
and a talking mule...
I want to learn what is important.
What is important for my own life.
I need to know how to spell my name, and address.
How to count, and how to read through and between
the lines of the news,
spoken all over,
in the name of freedom...
over woke-ism,
be a teacher,
not a preacher
of darkness
and twisted lies.
He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He taught the junior high Sunday school class and was a Bible scholar.
(But on the side, he 'stilled' moonshine way back up in the holler!)
He was faithful in tithing ten percent of his ill-gotten gain.
(For his John Barleycorn he used only the best obtainable grain!)
He occupied the same pew every Sunday listening with attentive ear.
(It was rumored about that he also brewed some very potent beer!)
He proffered an "amen" at appropriate times and wore a suit and tie.
(He was renowned throughout the county for his very delectable rye!)
His tenor voice blended well when singing, "I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord."
(On back roads he did a bit of bootlegging in his hopped-up V-8 Ford!)
He was the first to offer succor to widows, orphans and others left bereft.
(He'd run his still for years - at evading "revenooers" he was very deft!)
When folks were needed to serve on committees he was first to volunteer.
(When asked his occupation he replied, "I'm a 'Spirit'ual Engineer!")
At Yuletide he was generous with the parson giving him a beef, cash and pork.
(At the annual church picnic he surreptitiously passed a bottle to uncork!)
There couldn't be found a finer saint in all of Boondock County, Kentucky.
(He'll continue to "minister" to parched throats thereabouts - if he's lucky!)
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Primiere Trophy Contest" Contest
This poem is worthy of a Primiere Trophy since it won First Place in the Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest in April 2011. (Won $50 and an Outstanding Poetic Achievement Certificate).
The Chicken and the Egg
Woke up fearing the blood sugar
was too low, so I went into the kitchen to get something to eat
found under a platter, a small fried chicken leg
I thought chicken legs were getting smaller and smaller
They must kill the chicken as soon as they get out of the egg
Not a chance for them to be yellow, innocent babies
as painted on the wall in the pre-school visited by a
32-year-old veteran of 8 wars.
It goes without saying that veterans are heroes defending
say, America, from being invaded by all and sundry
But we know the war they fight and often die for is
in the service of warmongers and Israel
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from his writings)
Gatherings and parties I attended
when I was young are memories so dear,
for they’ve endured as treasures most splendid!
My friends from school inhabited one sphere
that mattered to me when youth had begun.
The parties with my school chums brought such cheer.
The birthday parties – oh they were so fun -
like those held at the roller skating rink -
a rush of pleasure loved by everyone!
The parties where we didn’t sleep a wink
were oddly labeled slumber parties! We
would party, but we gal pals did not drink.
We got high on laughter and repartee!
Such girly girls, we’d gossip and we’d squeal
at ghost tales until dawn’s first light we’d see.
Another part of childhood – a big deal -
was family. I looked most forward to
reunions, meeting cousins with great zeal.
What fun to see my cousins all anew
since rarely did I see them all year long,
so when we’d meet, there was a lot to do.
I loved when cousin Steven came along
(a crush of mine!) Off we’d then run and play.
With relatives it felt cool to belong.
A great buffet we’d have on Christmas day,
and Secret Santa gifts we would receive.
No other Christmas seemed a better way.
My memories of these times do not leave.
Friends and family are precious, I believe.
Oct. 7, 2022
for Brian Strand's 'YOUR PREFERENCE' Poetry Contest
I’ll never forget what's her name
She bought the teaching profession to shame
Humiliating me in front of the class
Her red ink comments always so crass!
This woman was a history teacher
but such a nasty vindictive creature
As a child right from the start
I was never much good at art
We all have our talents I know
And I did give the art work a go
But drawing is not my forte
And it let me down badly this day
The lesson filled me with fear
We were learning about Boudica
I attempted my best to draw
Yet this was the comment I saw
“Boudica did not fight Martians!”
She was poking fun at my expense
I left the classroom feeling so tense
So it was never a great mystery
When I didn’t opt to study history!
It’s been therapeutic to write
This poem to put over my plight
That a child should never be put down
By a teacher who acts like a clown!
*This is a true story and I only threw the book away when we moved house!!
Based on the English pronunciation of the name which is like bow-de-seer
I'LL NEVER FORGET WHAT'S HIS NAME (OR HER NAME) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
9/16/19
with a rope bridge for a spine, supportive and supple –
and diving boards where eyelashes bend, leaping to new heights, embracing the belly flops –
covered in veins that map a life of roads to work and school drop offs,
country lane rambles and pavements pounded with the family dog –
holding out fingers that are matches burning bright but never scalding,
with walls for eyebrows that never build across, but are kept apart and open –
those above knees, themselves moulded from rock from pebble from grit,
and below a forehead lined in streams moving, rejuvenating, soothing –
women
woman
body
her, own.
I watched the Debate
between Obama and Romney;
I am kind of liberal and fair:
and I listened to both sides.
The Republicans favor broad tax cuts,
the Democrats are opposed.
As far as prayer in school is concerned,
I favor the Republican Party...
giving some regard to the existence of God....
we can't become a nation of Atheists!
The Democrat Party demands
a specific deadline for the withdrawing of troops from Iraq
and Afghanistan...and isn't that great news for every soldier
to be coming back home soon?
One last comment on abortion:
Republicans are pro-life,
but Democrats are pro-choice...
and for this reason I should vote Republican!