Long Schoolchild Poems
Long Schoolchild Poems. Below are the most popular long Schoolchild by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Schoolchild poems by poem length and keyword.
Raise your child very carefully
otherwise your child could get damaged psychologically like me.
I could have attended any college university.
I could have had numerous Associate and Bachelor degrees,
but as previously stated, I'm damaged psychologically.
I've put a barrier between standard higher learning and me,
all because my child and teenage years in school
were spent in an environment so very cruel.
Nervously twitching standing in front of my class,
praying to answer correctly or appear like an ass.
I never was one who ever truly did fit in
and became another victim of ostracizing.
School yard bullies also had their share of fun,
making me curse the day I was born.
so when school finally ended, school was over officially for me.
No college university, no degrees for me.
Ever since my long ago school days of gloom
I've never felt comfortable in a classroom.
1/15/21
If you didn't, you better know now
Nearly always around smoke clouds
I was or I wasn't oath bound
Often telling me, I got no grounds
And that I need to slow down
I roam around
Or am homebound
With a new dog or old hound
Made noise, or no sound
Just giving you all the low down
It was kept silent or spoke aloud
Going solo or with the whole town
It was false or accurately wrote down
Just the way it goes down
Because of what goes around
Another showdown
And throw down
From the hometown
To far beyond here to Motown
Bumped into you in the food aisle
It's good to see you smile
In a world that can be too vile
I've been developing a new style
Got to cover much more than a few miles
What I seek to accomplish, is in a huge pile
Of loose tiles
Since I was a schoolchild
Going through trials
The patterns cease or continue to cycle
I've been thinking often
And battling a drinking problem
Sinking to the bottom
My mom reminding me, it's just bringing me to the coffin
Similarities or not a single thing in common
It's rather obvious
Having difficulty stopping this
And on making accomplishments
There was complete honestness
Or broken promises
It was easy or onerous
One thing I do is honor it
Remaining humble and anonymous
Quote by M Rose: If love had a thousand faces they'd all look like yours
Your visage is what I'd seek first in my lost and found box.
I'd feel for the corners of my box with nimble fingers
eyes closed I'd brail the contours of your missing face
like a schoolchild pining for a spark of self esteem, I'd linger
on words last spoken, before you faded out of place
If love had a thousand faces I'd see only yours for all eternity
lost in a sea of despair, I'd search for you far and wide
like a mother craving for a child's return, I'd scour the city
rummaging the streets, looking in places you could never hide
If love had a thousand faces I would never look for anything new,
I'd take delight in the likes of you and only you.
hey pete
by Michael R. Burch
hey pete,
it's baseball season
and the sun ascends the sky,
encouraging a schoolboy's dreams
of winter whizzing by;
go out, go out and catch it,
put it in a jar,
set it on a shelf
and then you'll be a Superstar.
When I was a boy, Pete Rose was my favorite baseball player; this poem is not a slam at him, but rather an ironic jab at the term "superstar." Keywords/Tags: Baseball, Season, Boy, Schoolboy, Schoolchild, Student, Scholar, Winter, Spring, Sun, Catch, Star, Superstar, Jar, Pete Rose, Reds, Cincinnati, Big Red Machine, America, Fantasy, Humor, Hyperbole, Irony, Sports
Unlikely Mike
by Michael R. Burch
I married someone else’s fantasy;
she admired me despite my mutilations.
I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
I hid my face and changed its connotations.
And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque—
a metaphor myself. How could they know,
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque?
Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
or choose or name myself; I came to be
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
like Dickey’s Sheep Boy, Pan, or David Cruse:
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
My color was a song, a changing track.