Long School life Poems
Long School life Poems. Below are the most popular long School life by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long School life poems by poem length and keyword.
Holding back his tears
In front of him, a soldier kneels
As the mourners look on saddened
Inside the little boy feels
To grow up without his father
As he grows up without his friend
To play ball with him in the park
When he needs him, so much to depend
To be there through out his school life
To make him oh so proud
But not to be there when he graduates
Clapping and shouting out loud
To be there when he gets married
Be a grandfather to his kids
At his fathers funeral he attends
His life in battle rid
In front the soldier kneels
Holding the Stars and Stripes
Presenting it to the little boy
Holding back his tears, from his eyes
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
He once was a Teacher of mine; On Paper he was ment to teach Maths... But in reality, this man just Preached Christ!
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
We only met a few times; Around 28 years ago... I hope he's doing all right!
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
he wouldn't remember my name - or recognise my picture, or my face, in any frame.
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
I was struggling at the time, Sent to adult college young - I couldn't cope with School life..
Has anyone Met Cyril Redhead?
I only showed up a few times,,
A Truant dealing with bereavement, and Drugs - my Father had died...
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
He taught me at Granville Road... I remember none of his Maths! But remember the Truth - Cyril spoke.
Has anyone Met Cyril Redhead?
This servant of God I once met! His message was just to treat Others - How YOU would like to be treat!
Has anyone met Cyril Redhead?
Does anyone hold this man dear? He showed up and taught me a lesson - then Poof! He just disappeared!
Ever since birth anxious lived in me
anxious was the cause of my stammer
or did my stammer make me anxious
certainly, nothing made me calmer
The thought of school life, oh dear!
every day there certainly I did hate
tension-filled my air that I felt
I asked myself is this my fate?
Then into the world of work
speaking to many of every kind
every time my tongue so anxious
anxious for my life I signed
Now retired really first class
don't need to speak only if asked
control all anxious thoughts
now covid says wear your mask!
(This is my thoughts on my life of anxiety)
(Quote:
"Today I escaped anxiety. Or no, I discarded it, because it was within me, in my own perceptions - not outside" - Marcus Aurelius)
Early morning, while walking down the country road
I saw a group of children, school bound in crisp uniforms
Oh it is August, I suddenly remembered
And the schools have opened after the summer holidays
Like birds unleashed from the cage,
With satchels on their back, talking merrily
Shouting at times in rising elation
Without a care, they walked down the lane
Seeing them, my world sank into a chasm of memories
Remembered my school days when I walked on foot
With my friends every morn to the school, close by
Though bored by the onerous rite of waking up early
And studying subjects we hardly had any interest
Life altogether was a new adventure
And on every day we learnt something new
At recess, we would grow into a disorderly mass
Laugh and play. Oh, what joy we always had!
But how fast those happy days ended,
Plunging me into an abyss of nostalgic remembrance.
Seeing those children in school uniforms,
Heading to school to study, play and have fun
Thoughts fall like feathers of moulting birds and reel round me.
How the memories of school life make me smile
And how I long to be a student again just for a while!
August.26.2022
Back to School Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Francine Roberts
Total lines-24
Forgiveness of Sins / God's Love & Mercy
LK 15:11-32
Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.'
So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.
When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need.
Coming to his senses he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger.
I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers."'
So he got up and went back to his father.
While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion.
He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him; His son said to him,
'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.
But his father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet...
Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.' Then the celebration began.
Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him.
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours; but now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" (Taken from LK 15:11-14, 17-25, 28, 31-32)
old photographs~
faded and creased
my grandma's treasure
inside an embroidered album
where memories are etched
upon each page
printed in grayscale
those filmed-captured
by a vintage camera
vivid were memories
despite decades that passed~
my first smile...
my first crawl...
my first walk...
sweet reminiscence
of a first-born granddaughter ~
So much loved...
So much treasured...
grayscale transformed
into colored outputs
as it captured
the highlights of school life:
me and my grandparents
smiling faces
gold medals in my neck
graduation day~
as I turn another page
I see a dried leaf...
teardrops fall.
12 April 2022
A sweet memory of our school days
We walked to school everyday
With a light school bag
Under a blue sky
With rain or sunshine abound
Only a few books in the school bag
But many flowers pluck
Or junk food bought along the way
We only had to finished our homework
Before we're free to play
We memorised lessons for our tests
Which were simple and straight forward questions
Never got tuition
We're left to learn and recite ourselves
Till we remembered
A simple style of school life
But with confidence,independence and wisdom
A nature lover
A love for freedom
A love for a simple life
Embryonic Stage
So comfy and warm
Not feeling a hint of harm
Oh, what’s happening
Birth
Good grief, it’s so cold
O’er and o’er again was told
“Beautiful baby”
Child Age
Play sports, make good grades
Life’s full of adventure days
Hates vegetables
Teen Years
It’s an awkward age
Parents struggle through this stage
Just stay sane through it
Young Adult Years
Leaving home first time
Into unknown, a steep climb
Where will it all end
Middle Adult Years
Work and family
Agony and ecstasy
Stalwart day by day
Older Adult Years
Body , soul, and mind
Seeking peace of special kind
Beyond ever known
Why was my whole special school life,
An interpretation of nature and school?
A philosophical contemplation and analysis,
A freeway inquiry into the education tool.
Because the god concept was lain out,
On the household table, delicately spread,
I was sharp at social phenomenon,
Even as a primary child was not off my head.
When I journeyed down the corridors,
Slowly, because of my disability,
I was more often than not on my own,
‘Cos the others would show off their mobility.
So I thought about the politics,
Of the special school and our integration right,
Our need of ramps and disabled toilets,
The importance of everybody’s mindset height.
I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong,
For using the carers as playtime supervisors,
‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened,
In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours.
The teachers knew us in the classroom,
So adjudicated fairly and with respect,
Were able to administer justice,
Wherever there was a point of regret.
The carers were just not on my level,
And you had to do what they said,
Which overshadowed my whole experience,
Which made me much see red.
It was believed that the carers had a light on,
Because they scribed for us in maths,
But your profession level sets your reception,
Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs.
I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them,
For their low rank and position,
But that just meant they never put me with,
My parents speech and religion.
But I considered myself determined philosophically,
Not in the free-will line of thought camp,
And just needed a man, board or committee,
To rejuvenate myself and amp.
So I often spoke with the school doctor,
The boss of the cliques and staff,
But the other pupils resented it,
Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff.
When your life does not go right,
Insist, if you can, on calling the shots,
Make appointments with the gods,
And beam with importance watts.
Never fully hidden in the shadows of my mind
Are things I do not speak of for they are no longer important
But they used to be things I dwelled on,
situations and people who hurt me.
Slights so tiny, others might not have noticed.
But I was super aware of teachers who were speaking
of me in a mean way. And there were several for
I was never easy with them or on them.
Catching their mistakes.
Making them super angry.
No one can get anyone angry faster than me.
For I do not like injustice or rudeness and I will
call anyone on it. Always have, always will.
And adults are not always fair because they
do not realize they have time for fairness.
Retaliation is hell, and adults are vindictive.
My childlike pains brilliantly fling themselves
into paintings, cartoons and poetry
for I remember meanness and unkindness.
I remember pinched and angry faces.
I remember being taken advantage of because
I was a mere child. How dare I! How dare them!
I do not dwell on it, but I am
easily hurt. Especially young little, child me.
Because I did not hurt others, and
did not expect to be taken advantage of for my
for my naivety and my insane
crazy need for fairness but I was.