School Prose Poetry Poems | Examples
These School Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about School. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry School poems written by international poets.
his defiant attitude was obstreperous
misbehavior unheard of and unseen in the sixties
other third-graders stared at him in disbelief
wondering what was wrong with him
not realizing he was begging for interference
help that was never coming
tired of extra conferences
his parents pulled their eight-year-old out of school
not unheard of back in the day
they kept him at home
where he should have been safe
but had never been safe even as a toddler
he was reported missing a year later
after a teacher called to check on him.
I was glad to escape the school run by demon spawn
thrilled to extricate myself from this hell-hole
disengage from a hateful situation
distangle myself from the mess they call normal
I am pretty sure the students feel the same way
Their “no hate” campaign is working.
Brain research shows that if you say “don’t climb that tree”
a person must picture themselves climbing the tree
before they can visualize not climbing the tree.”
No hate is certainly working.
I limped out of there in a listless spiritless way.
Unable to save anyone but myself.
Our mother was perky in the morning.
It’s the only time of day we ever heard her sing.
She would come into our room and sing “good morning” stuff.
My twin and I would grumble and rumble about it.
How she could be this perky every single morning is a puzzle.
But she was.
Was it the coffee?
Was it her natural tendencies? Who knew?
The cheerier she was, the more grumbly we got.
On school days.
On Saturday mornings we were the perky ones.
Waiting for Underdog on the TV set.
how was school for you back in the day, Grandma?
Well, I could barely read my own writing
The wagon wheels hit every single bump along the Oregon trail.
Why didn’t you ride in a car or a truck? He asked me.
All we had were covered wagons back then.
We had to throw out granny’s organ though; it weighed too much.
Couldn’t get over the mountains with it.
What mountains?
The Missouri Mountains.
I didn’t know there were any Missouri Mountains!
Not any more, I told him, the giant alligators ate them.
My daughter is running her finger around her ear.
But he does not notice.
At age seven, he still loves my stories.
Welcome to the fifty’s diner
Where there are chrome stools
Black, red and white leather seats
A checkered floor
Everything matches
A soda machine is standing ready
The chef is heating up the fryer
Burgers and fries are the main stay
The waitress has filled the ketchup bottles
There are also mustard bottles, and salt and pepper shakers
Staff is ready for school to dismiss
So, the munching, and conversing can begin.
no one noticed an extraordinary white angel
she was the only brightness of the day
but we were not looking out our windows
peach pastel sky had never looked so dull
roads were treacherously icy
we cuddled up inside our homes
no one went to work or to school
barren trees did not move a branch
silence of bushes invoked a day of double naps
many children were born the following spring
inspired by an extraordinarily white angel
most of us missed
Music came out of my fingers
made me dance all over the wall
My parents were askance
For I was a newborn from a small town
I was tapping my fingers on my highchair tray at one
Loving the feeling of playing my own trombone or drum
I was a musician, so they called me Table Top Joe
It was not even my name, but that’s how I evolved
Kindergarten teacher was Miss Alyson, who was pretty and quick
She let my fingers play the piano as a reward if I did my work
Work in kindergarten? That is crazy I told myself. And it was.
Every day at school was a waste of time.
How did it get me closer to fame?
Fortune?
My destiny?
I played the game as long as I could
Then I ran away to become the real me.
A musician who drums on everything he can reach.
Tabletop Joe!
I rushed into my friend’s office once not realizing she had a guest.
She said “This is Dr. Pat McClintock.”
Dr. Pat McClintock said “You are a Stone Twin from Chariton Iowa.”
This shocked me.
I was forty-four at the time, living in Missouri.
No one here knew about me being a twin.
Well, maybe one or two, but not a stranger.
I nodded, wondering who this woman was.
“I was your second grade teacher, Miss Meyers.”
Suddenly I remembered her well.
She had drawn a horse for Becky Jones.
When I said I wanted one she said she would make me one.
But the next time we came to school, she was gone.
Right after Christmas break.
She never came back and I never got that drawing.
I remembered her all right….
Sweet corn has been harvested, garden picked clean
Breezy mornings now, ruffling the cat’s fur
Front porch stocked with pumpkins and gourds
School is starting, new clothes are being bought
Last year’s backpacks are thrown into a bonfire
Grandma is taking the grandchildren shopping for new
Football games have begun in earnest, fans frenzied
Cool September, you are as welcome as any month ever is
Family has to start practicing getting up early
Bus will be picking the children up at seven o’four
Mom and Dad explain high school to their freshman
Silly because fifteen-year-olds know everything
Oh, the beauty of the BELLS of my life.
First, there were the SCHOOL BELLS.
Great sounding BELLS recessing me;
Sad sounding BELLS returning me;
Guiding BELLS directing me to new classes.
Those BELLS I heard for 12 years and more.
Once upon a time, I heard CHURCH BELLS ringing,
calling worshipers to sing, pray, and preach.
Although not as often, I heard those COWBELLS.
Those memorable BELLS, I heard as a child.
There often were the sounds of WEDDING BELLS;
BELLS of loving commitment and covenant romance.
Such BELLS of my very own rang more than 50 years ago.
I can hear those SALVATION ARMY BELLS;
BELLS that return every Christmas Season;
BELLS that encourage me to give joyfully.
Oh, what unforgettable BELLS that show and tell.
120823PS
When I leave this clinic I must drive north
Not south
South goes past a high school
Which will be letting out upon my arrival
All I need is to be driving in the middle of a bunch of teens
who drive like Indianapolis 500 race car drivers
Playing chicken, honking, flirting,
There is also road construction which means waiting.
I have been waiting in this clinic for over an hour.
I hate waiting!
Head north I tell myself.
Head north.
Head north.
Head north.
My car automatically heads south.
Administrators want us teachers to record anything physical that happens
This is a grade school, so a lot of physical things go down.
Throwing, hitting, punching, kicking have to be reported.
We enter it into a computer program in our spare time.
In between required meetings, classes, lunch, recess, etc.
Then we get little notes back like this valuable missive.
Did you mean throw, toss, pitch, heave, fling, or sling?
I decided that I was too busy to reply to this insanity.
After school Ali wrote outside in her favorite perch
Inside the protective branches of her favorite oak
Stories, songs, riddles, jokes, they flowed here
She was prolific her mother told others later.
At the time she was too shy to share her work.
No one saw it until years later, and this suited her.
She became a novelist, but remained humble
Remembering her favorite perch with pure love
she was a blur in the water as she dove down through the depths
Sven, a Norwegian sailor was intrigued, having heard her lamenting song
He threw himself overboard, in hopes of being saved by her
she was the kind of mermaid who would have rescued him
If he had not waited too long, but alas, he had hesitated
a blue whale swallowed him up, but quickly spat him out
school of sharks surrounded him, and first mate yelled “Sven!
Grab ahold of this line!” Sven did, but he was too late doing that too.
As it often happens in their territory, the sharks had a glorious dinner.
the insistent dragons are back
I watch them fly over Gibraltar hill.
Outside petunias are crowding toward the house
There is a castle waiting for me in the distance
I move closer to the lace curtains.
Wanting to get a better look at my destiny.
Find myself staring at the woman I will be one day.
She gives me a resigned look.
Teddy bear sidles closer, and I cuddle him.
My school work can wait.
The dragons have a message.
I strain to hear, to understand, to be the real me.