Schoolboys Poems

Mashup Blend Words

Georgetown Highschool Fire Drill Today
On top--Georgetown's outdoor blackboards
Setup classmate's first-time meetup sort out
Schoolboys head out--henceforth buddy up one-on-one  
Outside schoolyards baseball's first base
Schoolgirls show up--nearby football goalpost

The Landing of Autumn

Listen my friends to the bells that tinkle and jankle
The early and spontaneous arrival of autumn,
It is a painful and unusual surprise for the birds,
Which wanted to dawdle among the weak reeds.

Tonight, the sun will disappear surreptitiously sooner.
The schoolboys are unhappy. They refuse to utter a word.
Their parents are elated to see how time is passing
Rapidly, like the short breath of a dying old handyman.

The green leaves begin to alter their postures.
The flowers are rare. They charm Mother Nature less.
No golden sun glare after the Angelus; the air is somber.

And the freshness from the north hypnotizes the refugees.
The old men, in disarray, wonder under the sorry shade.
This year, autumn exudes less warmth and cheerfulness.

Copyright © September 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

This is a translation of the poem: L' Aterrissage De L' Automne by Hebert Logerie
 Sunday, September 22, 2019

Trooping the Colour

(The UK Queen's Platinum Jubilee was in June 2022)


You're at Trooping the Colour now, Dominic.
Were we not friends when we were schoolboys?
You look so smart now, Dominic, guardsman,
wrapped in the shining redness of that costume
under your tall, beautiful bearskin cap.

Recall that friendship, Dominic,
those distant days at school?
I saw your show on stage -
those school plays, musicals, but mainly ballet.
Such standards, almost worthy of a jubilee.

And here you are on our TV.
A performance, Dominic, seen by our Queen,
and millions, oh millions, of viewers.
You're at that Platinum Jubilee,
a concert full of marching men,

a march that is a parade,
a parade that is a ballet -
performing people, of course.
Would you wish to know me, Dominic,
now you're in your very posh world?


(June 2022)

(You may wish to see also "Obsequies for a Queen" of September 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2003)

Tubal Cain's Bedtime Chant

We are all but dreams of God, 
Composed of flesh and bone, 
Illuminating darkness with our senses.
Dimensionless infinity 
Gets cold when you’re alone,
So the Muse of our existence 
Pulls the blanket to Her chin.
And She dreams of little puppies.
And She dreams of falling down.
And She dreams about Her Mommy baking cookies.
And She’s frightened by the bogeyman 
That hides beneath Her bed,
But comforted by teddy bears and dollies.

We are all but dreams of God, 
Together and apart, 
Confined within this bubble of perception,
For time and space are finite things 
Through which The Sleeper’s art
Confides the inspiration 
For the shimmer and the spin.
And it shimmers on the playground. 
And it spins around the sun.
And it’s chased about by scientists and schoolboys
And it lights upon a blade of grass 
And bursts upon a touch
While children chalk equations on the pavement.

We are all but dreams of God, 
A range of subtle hues 
That paint our waking world 
With clear distinctions.
Yet we ourselves sketch Godly dreams, 
Becoming then the Muse,
Imagining a purpose more profound 
Than one within.
We are all but dreams of God. 
Good night.

The Long Last Summers Past

The Long Last Summer’s Past
By David J Walker

The shrilled ring of the
School bell
Was the first call of
The last days of another  
departed summer

The boys laced on new
Tennis shoes
The girls tried on 
New dresses

The sleepy heads of those
Who could not sleep , who could not 
Keep their eyes closed in 
Anticipation of the first day of classes 

The farm like crop-rows of kids
In school yards 
Forming lines of covens of
Familiar faces

It was all a tradition of
The next Fall 
And the comfort of 
A needed belonging 
And now, 
So far away from that place
In a distant time
And space 
There is a longing

To again line up by class
And nervously giggle
In the voices of children 

Singing the anthem  
Pledging allegiance
Proclaiming AMEN to
A prayer 
That begins another 
Day of learning

The yesterdays of 
Schoolboys and schoolgirls
And daydreams of
Natural yearnings 

Of the long last 
Summers past

Orphic Spells

Ex lovebirds of 
the tamest passion can turn 
so predatory.

Passive aggressive
schoolboys who mock whistle at
ex-girlfriends for spite.

Who scatter book bag
contents in mock accidents
for supposed revenge.

As witchcraft conjured
by the nonbelligerent
to silence the bully

I summon some sweet, 
musical, lascivious
words as orphic spells

In self-effacing 
defense to tame the awful
beast with dirty magic.

Bodily Harm

Love makes us guys come apart at the seams
Acting like schoolboys dreaming young dreams
Walking into walls
Running naked through the malls
Oblivious to perils that have become routine

Kindness of Strangers - Kib - Part 2

KINDNESS OF STRANGERS - KIB - Part 2

The schoolboys chatter ‘neath blankets.
      ‘No pretty ones to choose’ —
   Innocence voices thoughts.
God delights in blessing our souls —
   Having nothing to lose,
      Net the color of friends.

8/2/2019
Not for contest
KIB so Nette Onclaud will not read

Neanderthal

He stands there, stripped bare, shameless, nameless, voiceless 
Standing there, choice-less

No dignity, no vanity, no pity
No integrity 

No eyeballs so no stare, no flesh and no hair
And no underwear

No contract, no guarantee, no warranty
No appearance fee

He stands there, stripped bare, shameless, nameless, voiceless 
Sudden schoolboys-less
Museum... noiseless

Oscar-Ku 3 -All Quiet On the Western Front

ravages of war
not about heroism. . .
through eyes of schoolboys






Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved. 
First published 2018 in Hollywood Haiku via wattpad.com

An Epanalepsis Poem- a Reminder

EPANEPLEPIS POETRY
A
REMINDER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A man who knew what he was talking about, a man who knew!
"Mankind must put an end to war or, war will end mankind"
Quote President John F. Kennedy; D. Trump not worthy of the title let alone a quote.
Restrained just recently, President Trump was, he should be permanently restrained.
Blame others Trumps policies, sacks those who understand he's not man enough to take the blame.
Senryu, defined, in short, mans' foibles', even briefer, the optimum definition, 'Trump" a one-word 'senryu'.
Schoolboys' antics', mine's bigger than yours, beware of  Presidents reenacting schoolboys ways.
Reminder: When the USA has to choose again, remember Trump's ditherings on war; this, NB, Just a reminder.

Big John Wayne In Cowboys Pleiades C

“Cowboys” , big John Wayne starred.
Cowhands abandon him.
Call, joining the Goldrush.
Could greenhorn kids succeed.
Camp cook and chuck wagon,
Complete the trail crew drive.
Cow punching green schoolboys
Called on to claim their jobs.
Cimarron,  the oldest,
Capricious, turned away.
Cow punching, green schoolboys
Combating bucking horse,
Caught  on  to rope, brand, herd
Cattle, and  cow-horses.
Cattle drive is ready.
Cimarron follows close.
Cattle-rustlers kill Will,
Corralling all his herd.
Cow punching green schoolboys
Caught and killed the rustlers.
Complete the cattle-drive.
Cattle sold, gravestone bought.
Carved, “ Beloved Husband and Father”

8/22/2016

Not for contest: 

Pleiades C
22 lines, 6 syllable each line
17th   line 9 syllables

The Cowboys is a 1972 American western film starring John Wayne,

John Wayne  nickname Duke 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cowboys
using; 
http://www.howmanysyllables.com/poem_syllable_counter_workshop/index

Quiet Soldiers

Brave hearts beat
Hidden in silent men
Boots hide exhausted feet
Yet no complaints tumble with their tears

Brave hearts beat
Chasing death on foreign soil
Targets placed on dusty streets
Hollow death parched days on end

Brave hearts beat
Dodging dead eyed schoolboys' guns
Nightmares of red defeat
Yet waking to go back again. 

V Anderson Throop
Nov 2014  ©

Why Do I Write

I do not know why I write again
But I know 
I do not write for schoolboys
You think nights are diamond studded 
Black lace,
I do not write for fawning girls who
Adore sunsets, but grimace
At the thought of umbilicals and blood.
I do not write for old ladies
Gardening, and pulling up weeds
While let the protected serpents live.
I write only for the undefiled,
Those who see sin and start a forest fire
Burning evil in its desire
I write for love of children
And the rivers in their eyes I long to sail
Hunting abusers like men hunt the quail.
O but tell me,
Why do I write again? Why?

Looking Through the Window

I stare at all the people, their different  shapes and build,  thinking to myself,  it takes all types  to make a world.
A tall man sweeping footpaths,  there's a big man in a car,  a lonely looking soul,  propped up at a bar 
A  redhead window shopping, looking at a dress, rummaging  for credit cards, and getting  in a mess.
Two drunks passing, swaying,  holding one another up,  a country type with greyhound  dogs,  one looks like a pup.
Two  schoolboys  mock fighting, until an elbow goes astray, now the fightings real, it didn't start this way.
A traffic warden smiling, giving tickets out with ease, the vehicle owners coming back, I don't think he'll be  pleased.
A blonde girl wearing glasses with stilettos on her feet, struggling to stay upright as she crossed the cobbled street.
I look at all the people and I look at them again, life would be so boring,   if everybody were the same.

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