Higher learning journey
CUNY Medgar Evers College mark
Among the theories and concepts
Believing who I am and success bounds
Achieving through the pitfalls
When others said I won’t, I continued until shall was complete
Maneuvering making breakthroughs
Taking a Civil Rights stand
Commitment imminent demand
Medgar Evers himself being a man distinct and powerful
Being the product enriched in MEC of M-Mission, E-Excel and C-Commitment
Well communicated through the MEC eyes
Tomorrow came my purpose
Today only a realize
Combination circulation of the Mind, Philosophy and Thought
Goodness and influence
Stepping out on the Medgar Evers College walk
Essence, Scholastic and beyond in success
Passed the tes
Good girls don’t.
Well who are you to say?
Donning shredded fish nets,
kissing with dark lipstick,
she’ll say what’s on her mind.
Clearly she’s a bit scholastic,
putting her nose in the issues
after removing it from a book.
Who are you to say what
good girls do?
A scream as she spits gum out,
running until there’s nothing left;
in the end crying herself to sleep.
Who are you to say what
good girls do?
On a mission to sit for a while
yet always yanked up by her hair,
A sure sign no one else is there.
The haute spark of a trendsetter,
talking smack without a word.
Her wretched stack is everywhere.
Good girls don’t.
Well who are you to say?
They promised that the debt would fade away
So students took the path they thought was right,
To study and find our scholastic way,
To keep our country's future burning bright.
Americans with good minds, sharp and free,
Where cowboys read of heroes in their books,
Cowgirls build homes for all to see,
Beyond the vanity of shallow looks.
But college dreams have turned to heavy lead,
All races and ethnicities in deep.
The interest grows while workers lose their bread.
The promises the lenders didn't keep.
From Texas plains to Floridian sun,
The SAVE plan starts the freedom we should've won.
My dislike of Poetry
I dislike poetry; it is a contrived form of expression, yet whenever
I published one of my collections, which is under the rubric
of poetry
when they are nothing but opinions and descriptions of thoughts, which
I try to share with readers who might like what I write
or think this is a waste of time. I dislike poetry because it keeps
life in shadows and tries not to tell but to show by writing
so abstract
you have to guess the intentions. When you do, the poet is great.
mainly because he described life as scholastic and has little to do with real life, but you can, if seeking brief fame, put your head in
The gas oven and everything you wrote will be holy as the poetic grail, a pity because the poet/writer was seduced by her father and was unable to come to terms with this because she liked the rape but didn’t dare to admit it.
Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a bloody, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.
Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.
I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.
As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.
We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
It’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by Feist
5 dollars burning a whole in my pocket
Watching every second of the clock tick
Please bell hurry and ring, I'm waiting to go browse and buy my way to happiness
Everything I ever wanted in the world was waiting down the hall in my school library
Forget Christmas, Forget Spring Break
Nothing compared to the excitement I felt for the Schoolastic Book Fair
I'd walk around every aisle running my fingers over all the covers and down every spine
Searching for the the stories that longed to be mine
These were the days I couldn't wait to get home
I would run outside to dig into my treasure,
What adventure I would find underneath the large oak trees that lined the cracked concrete on my quiet empty street
A literary escape on a chilly fall evening
A different life for me awaits
Today was the first day of class.
You should have seen all the people.
Everyone couldn’t have had class, some of them must
have been gawkers, the types that slow to watch
flat tire changings and car wrecks.
Some were carrying maps - freshmen.
Like student drivers they clogged the paths,
drawing a few looks.
They gaggle together like geese,
Jeeezus - shut UP and get ON with it, freshies! I thought.
Not ungenerously - I remember being lost - back in the day.
I have class, myself - in both the intrinsic sense - of style -
and in the “research for credit” ‘check in on the first day,’ kind.
Still, we’re parading, and I’ve always loved parades.
My one regret is that there are no mimes or elephants.
ok.. poetry..
Stress is somewhere in my propinquity.
See, it’s known to stalk this vicinity.
I’m not a freshman, so it hasn’t struck yet,
but when it does, and it will, you can bet,
that initially, it will shake my tranquility
and end our start-of-year festivities.
It will creepily creep, destroying my sleep,
until I prove my scholastic resiliency.
.
.
Songs for this:
Violently Happy by Björk
Schoolin' Life by Beyoncé
For a perfect week, and hoping all poets, shared the same.
It was fun winning honorable mention in
the Musk poetry game.
The day before, was a POTD, and though a novice,
Team Poetry made me feel special.
Bless each and every poet,who took time to
comment,….. so warm and deferential!
No medical problems do I have, nor my family either.
I don’t do poetry all day, I enjoy watching movies,
just to take a breather!
My grandson made the Junior baseball varsity team.
With a high scholastic average, he really has a
smile that just beams!
And so, thank you God, for these awesome
people and your gifts, unending,
Protect all poets here tonight, as a brand
new week is pending.
2/5/2023
Contrastive in one's beliefs unique environment, and
assortments of cultures, faiths, faces. Countless places
economic and social statuses.
A range of scholastic objectives, Diversity is very advantageous
sharing a common missions, yearning for acquiring new skills
and a distinction of one's individuality, and fulfilling one's
dreams and accomplishment. Diversity
October, the privilege to cast off once more,
The thirty-first, get ready to dock once more,
No need to continue within the scholastic helm,
The adjustment of sails lay with the dominant realm,
Throughout the year,
embark upon the songs of our history,
Unfettered towards the shores of diversity.
(In England Black History Month is 1st to 31st October)
One's different beliefs, environments, cultures, faith, likes, dislikes, unique faces, religions, countless places, a range of scholastic goals
Economic and Social statuses which contrast one have in common and to learn from one another, and distinction in one Individually in one's dreams and goals deferred.
A Matriculation Poem to Welcome Freshers at the University of Makeni
Welcome to an academic home of excellence,
Where hunters hunt love in excess
And fishers fish knowledge and accumulate providence.
An academic place above;
Where we build a civilization of love with no curve.
UniMak has nurtured her seed in civilized love and education of quality.
Her breed is scattered all over, serving society
While her students are victimized by Government gratuity.
Are we not children of Mama Salone?
That we should be left to wander in this journey alone!
We build a civilization of love
As we believe in the Holy Cross as a dove.
We are but benefiting under the nomenclature of Fatima’s love.
A kind and lovely mother,
She edifies us on how to build a civilization of love without borders.
We are the Genesis of love in this countryside,
And the orthodox of scholastic civilization as our pride.
We are on an academic ride;
A journey to love all and to transform society
Oh, mother! Help us now, as we build a civilization of love in purity.
The detritus of consumer culture
Is coming down the chimney Christmas eve.
It’s a milk and cookies taming of the shrew.
It’s what we do.
I have a firm grasp on the mundanely ineffable,
But I’m not making any new memories.
All my memories are only passing through.
It’s what they do.
I’ve no time for shamanistic media whores
Who paper the landscape with billboard opinions.
They wouldn’t pass scholastic peer review.
They never do.
In order to maintain the appearance of sobriety
I keep a balanced rhythm of ritual and routine.
My survival skills are tested, tried and true.
It’s what I do.
I stay below the radar and far above the fray,
Attending to whatever task is presently at hand.
If I say I will, I always follow through.
That’s what I do.
But whatsoever has any of this to do with you?
My pupils dilated when we made eye contact.
I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t look away.
You dared me not to change my point of view.
That’s what you do.
Oh station , station
Yee of intermittent locomotive
thoroughfare
Once standing proud now
sadly scheduled surplus to
moderna
Redundant made it's ticket
booth , collector and so to
it's master
Resigned and destined for
graffiti spray to patch it's
walls
With it's clock battery powered
down
It's fate a clubhouse for tomorrows
youth to wreck and frequent gather
in and under
Smoke and try initial cigarette
plume cough and alcoholic
spirit drunken after shock
hangover
It's track's to be repatriated back
to nature 6 foot overgrown by
scrub , weed and bush
No click no clack no whisper
harking back
Visitation only by means of
historical scholastic dissertation
It's final lesson thus if willing to
accept
Everything once valued once
it has seved it's purpose and
past it's exasperation date
Will in fact so to in future be
cast aside and face this
exact fate
And maybe if nothing else
but for death will be saved from
Seeing all the things we
treasure and keep as memories
most dear
Disappearing before us and
and so to point out
That the light at the end of the
tunnel is fast becoming dimmed
by the milli-second
TONGUE TWISTER
Fantastic fun on scholastic enjoyment
assessing accessing accepting accent,
pointing permitting possible permutation,
claiming cunning clever combination,
sorting syllables on restricted selection
yielding rough tough pronunciation.
Neither fumbled nor jumbled being wobbled weak.
No boredom, speak random speedy quick.
Talk faster ignoring protester.
Wrap teeth and tongue to entrap
Ralph Malph’s mouth agape
bombarding bewildering audience
with competence, confidence
and coinciding Tongue- Twister.
01/11/21
Third Place
' Tongue Twister Challenge' Contest by Joe Sandler
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.