School Rhyme Poems | Examples
These School Rhyme poems are examples of Rhyme poems about School. These are the best examples of Rhyme School poems written by international poets.
I could barely juggle my job and my life
the bumper car freeway caused me oodles of strife
to and from school, it was a circus for sure
the drivers are mean, their motives impure
the clown dance I had to do at work was annoying
the children who were rewarded were the ones always toying
the principal had all of us teachers on a merry-go-round
we never felt respected, the place was not sound.
I was young at age but old enough to recognize cruelty
My eyes watered and my tummy ached
I was scared and embarrassed
With wet trousers my tiny thin legs- Shaked
I had raised my hand to go to the john
But my fourth-grade teacher, whom I'll never forget
She wouldn't let me go, why- I don't know?
But I know it was her fault, that I was soaking wet
The kids in my classroom stared at me shaking
Watching me crying, my eyes dripping water
Who will she not let go next?
The boy who sat next to me- or somebody's daughter
My mother, may she rest in peace
Rushed to the school to bring me some dry clothes
She spoke to the principle in a fiery rage
That's when all hell broke out, and a firing arose
That was the last time I saw that mean teacher
Never again would she teach in that school
I hope that she learned a good lesson in life
It's not very nice to be disturbingly cruel
Hear the true story of my great-great-great Grandpa,
the forgettingest man I ever saw.
When he tried to pass first grade again
he forgot to bring to school his brain.
When it was time to race in the big track meet,
wouldn't you know it - he forgot his feet.
When he married Mary, his sugar tart,
believe it or not, he forgot his heart.
So, she smacked him with a frying pan,
and down the road he ran.
You'd think he might die with a lump on his head,
but in a fortnight, it was Mary who was dead.
He forgot to bring his alibi,
so, they strung him up so high,
and he forgot to die.
the wrecks
of motor crashes,
limbs flailing
and red hailing
Its art red here,
we are in fear
of the chaotic
of we'll be dying
without injury,
I hope its your
simple heart
and not the
pumping
of adrenaline....
I always
as this child
held my breathe
and it scared me...
I hate to think
I understood
scorpions
and the
new
beginning
of their sting,
it torments me
in such fear
every night-mare,
since I had seen it......
A bug let loose
against its cool,
and it was never
a pretty sight......
there's one point,
we'll be back as one,
we can't escape em,.
and I torment & hate,
their hat tricks
ruining rest of me
in a pile of sludge
It goes back to
high school wedges
and popular laughter.....
Evil always the names
and yet popular on twitter......
singing cursed on here
I am your opportunity
and your disease.
You don't remember me....
Have No Fear
When I was girl, in Catholic primary school,
I dared not question a thing, I thought how uncool!
But as I grew, I met immensely brilliant, guiding folk.
They gave my mind, atomic, gigantic welcome, jolts!
Those jolts still live and shine brightly in me today.
I never reverted again to create things in others’ ways.
And,,,so i no longer go sniffing like a pup for approval.
No pats on my head, no~ it is all outer drivel!
I feel like a bird, freed from a rusty, old cage..
I learned self-acknowledgement is truly God’s page!
Stand up for yourself, I am not kidding.
Writing to please others is a false and dull bidding.
Poets may avoid you, do count that as a huge win!
You were not created to be another’s poetry twin.
Make a difference with your valuable words…
Sometimes, they may have to be used as swords.
Stand up, be brave, we only go around life once
Stand for good, may your words,fill the air with a punch!
9/9/2025
My favorite flower
Holds lots of power
It picks you up
In less than an hour
It’s purple and green
A kaleidoscopic dream
I feel so serene
With MJ on scene
Mary Jane’s the queen
The green school dean
Never leaves me on ‘seen’
Her reputation’s clean
Papers blunts wraps
I smoke after naps
So puff puff pass
And pass that grass
Indica helps me sleep
Sativa’s my favorite tree
I need it for days like these
When my mind needs some peace
Space cakes make you dream
The feeling is supreme
It’s effects are extreme
So be careful with the queen
She helps with the pain
She helps keeps me sane
So may she always reign
The green goddess Mary Jane
None of the guys
ever asked me out
they teased me
or just froze me out
I wasn’t stuck up
I was shy
I came from China
that is why
I didn’t know the styles and trends
or even where I should begin
there wasn’t much that I could say
I never talked much anyway..
so I sat there
and read
I was an incredibly
epic fail
To all the guys
who called me names
that tagged my locker
and tried to shame me
I wasn’t snooty
I was shy
I’d just come from China
that’s the why
I didn’t know the styles and trends
that let a new girl fit in
I’d never even used the Internet
I was as lost-in sauce as a girl gets..
so I sat there
and read
Which eventually
got me into Yale.
.
.
Songs for this:
Conversation by X-Cetra
Simply Couldn't Care by Tracey Thorn
Human Behaviour by Björk
.
.
*A poem from 9th grade (2019)
** We’d moved back stateside from China so I could have a ‘normal’ high school.
*** I just added the last two lines
As a young kid back in the hood,
It was just me and a pet friend~
He was the joy of my childhood~
His remembrance would never end.
I called him Pup as a puppy,
Because the poops he made me pack,
Whenever he ate hushpuppy~
Which I enjoyed as a noon snack.
His name later changed to Hot Dog,
When that became his preferred meal.
At mealtime he'd happily jog,
Since dog food was then his raw deal.
He assisted in all my chores,
He followed me to every place~
He used to greet me on all fours,
From home to school, he kept his pace.
While returning home from my school,
On one hot summer afternoon,
He fell and got drowned in a pool,
To his death, I failed to attune.
Years passed, his memory lives on,
No pet has again brought the joy~
Of those beautiful days bygone,
His pawprints linger in my heart.
September is apples and honey,
New notebooks and sneakers for school,
The time to say so long to summer,
When days start to feel crisp and cool.
September is tennis and baseball,
Each sport winding down for a while,
As pumpkin scents waft from the markets
And orange and rust are in style.
September brings dark in the mornings
And new shows to watch or to stream,
A buckling down from vacation,
Or rousing yourself from a dream.
September arrives with some fanfare,
Announcing to all, “Let’s begin!
The convertible top won’t be down long,
So get ready for one final spin!”
I’m grateful while living in a country so riddled with guns
where random people and school children are killed every day…
Where we send thoughts and prayers then try quickly to forget…
That I am still alive…and haven’t been gunned down…yet.
It was Sister Francine
who treated us so mean.
She’d rap us on our knuckles
with the Father’s belt buckles
toiling to keep our sin-loving souls clean.
Chasing the wind and butterflies
Blowing dandelions and watching them rise.
The feel of soft grass beneath tiny feet
Not yet knowing the feel of defeat.
Growing up
Mud puddles to jump.
Catching fish in the nearby creek
Playing games of hide and seek.
Growing older
Standing shoulder to shoulder.
Reading books by flashlight
Giggling with friends all night.
The excitement of a boyfriend
Dreaming of dances and football games to attend.
The crush of a broken heart
The feeling of your soul being ripped apart.
Slowly, bit by bit
A decision to not quit.
Watching clouds float by,
Makeup to apply.
Listening for a horn to blow,
Always on the go.
The end of school days,
The catching of bouquets.
Finally, the decision you must make,
Which road do you take?
Chase the wind and the butterflies
Or try to grab everything before your eyes?
Reporter advised do not go.'
On whats already known.'
Known to rile; big Bob Katter
Yet he pushed it hell for leather.'
Pushed it right back to Cloncurry
Seventy years blurred..To Bob in school
It was not funny.' I'd say here i'm on the
Money.)
Morning Ritual
Brewed aroma
Morning ritual
Coffee dreary
Eyes in a haze
A new unpredictable day
The weather lady
Not too sunny
Wake up
Put on some make up
Body still numb
Maybe a second cup
Get ready for work
Kids sent off to school
A long day ahead
Can’t focus
It’s not the weekend
Mind racing
Work delay
Too many bills
Traffic sucks
A drink at 5pm
I look forward to it
Expensive society
We can never retire really
Just work yourself to death
Too many burdens
I would follow you anywhere,
Across the fields where oak trees stand,
Their moss hangs heavy in the air,
Like secret banners, soft and pure.
Two rivers clear, they shine apart,
And yet they meet beyond the hill,
As if they knew the longing heart
That cannot choose, yet loves them still.
You read your books, I watch your eyes,
Each word is more than words to me,
It lifts me upward to the skies,
It opens doors I long to see.
Would you wait for me by the shore,
Where grasses bend in evening rain?
Would you be kind forevermore,
And take my joy, and be my cure?
I do not ask for golden years,
I only ask to walk beside—
Through laughter bright, through hidden tears,
Where all my secret dreams abide.
For I would follow, unafraid,
Wherever your bright footsteps lead;
The path through sun, the path through shade—
Is all the home I need to know.