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Daydreaming

Can you hear my heart
Pounding against my chest?
Every time I see you
I swear my heart will burst.

You see me, invisible
I see you, outstandable
Walking past me in the halls
Going to class to class.

You are so cute
Just when you smile
Please turn around and say 'hi'
Just a sign you notice me.

Many distractions through out class
One major one is you
My stories and my thoughts
All roots lead back to you.

Oh well for now
I'm stuck daydreaming.

poem by Mariah Simpson
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.

quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I shall call the class, Heaven

'A class is not just a class
A class is like a temple.'
'Such as the God lives in temple
Same way the students lives in the class
Both are with the shiny face and broad smile.'
'A class is like a flower
That blooms with the light of the students.'
'A class is like a nursery
In which every type of flower planted.'
'In this way the class is a heaven
If we see it with our soul eyes
If we feel it
then we will find us
In the presence of God
And that is our respected Teachers.'

poem by Mahaveer Kumawat
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High School sweethearts

started out as high school swwethearts
i sit in front of class
he sits in the back
i pass him his worksheet
he says come sit back here with me
i think to myself
he seems new here
so i sit back there to help
turn out he didnt need it
then i look in to his eyes
what a surprise
he seems so cute
the teacher tell us to hush
so i pass him a note
he reads do you like me yes no maybe
he writes back yes lol you crazy
then the bell rings for lunch
so he set to himself
i came and set with
he ask whats my name
i say bri
he says sweet
my name james
so we go back to class
doin our classwork
this is our sophomore year
we hook up
2 years go by
he went to
a different school
this is now our senior year
class of 2010
heart school sweethearts
never part
even when he change school
so what does that tell you
nothing is impossible

poem by Briangela Jones
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Everything Is Kiling Me....

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Working Class Hero

As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.

song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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For My History Teacher

I’m sitting in class,
My eyes about to close,
I hope teacher don’t see,
I hope she don’t see me.

Bored out of my mind,
Falling so behind,
Cannot concentrate,
I came to class too late.

Although I was on time,
My body was I mean,
My mind is still outside,
From class trying to hide.

What does all this mean?
I haven’t used it yet,
How can I retain it,
When already I forget?

And then she walks over,
That teacher of mine,
A smile in her eyes,
A gentle one at that,
She puts her hand on me,
And sets me kind of free.

Now here I am in class,
Learning about the past,
About history,
And what it did for me.

How we can learn,
From mistakes of old,
Of people so different,
Some so very bold.

Some stood against oppression,
Some stood against the wrong,
Some said it with dignity,
Some said it with a song.

I owe it to them,
And teacher here to hear,
What they did for us,
And no longer fear.

That knowledge is so dull,
No longer hurts my brain,
No longer hurts my skull,
It will surely keep me sane.

The past is the future,
Unless I stay awake,
So I can benefit,
There’s much more at stake.

Than I thought before,
Before I got to class,
Thank you History teacher,
For bringing to life the past.

I never got bored in History class, because I had a wonderful History Teacher. This is for her.

poem by Aisha Sherazi
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My class

My class is a funny class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a circus
That will conquer the school

We have acrobats
We have clowns
and we even have elephants

My class is a noisy class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a market
That will conquer the school

We have hawkers
We have fruiterers
and we even have butchers

No matter what
A circus or a market
We enjoy our class
When the teacher is not in

poem by Sarah Ally
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Class of 08

The class of 08 is the best
The class of 08 is above the rest
The class of 08 passed all there test so
The class of 08 will graduate!

poem by Kamilah Samuels
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Look, there is a sort of old view about class which is a very simplistic view that we have got the working class, the middle class and the upper class, I think it is more complicated than that.

quote by Ed Miliband
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Must Be A Lame

women you act high class,
richer then a speed past,
can't even say hey,
when you past by,
now you look like,
a stuck up fool,
look what school taught you,
to act like you better girl,
with all your cheddar girl,
I'm here to tell you,
go get a life,
you got on my bad side,
with all that high class,
think you better then,
everybody else crap,
girl you need some,
new lessons stop protesting,
you call us men lames,
because how we do to you,
look at how you act,
women you so high class,
that you think you have,
more empowerment then god,
that's your butt,
because it will be grass,
so I guess,
you must be a lame,
as you call me lame.

poem by Tommy Laster
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A Class

A beautiful morning!
It begins with delicious foods.
Multistoried buildings showing
an extra dignity to the dignified fellows are no doubt great.
Android, tablet, laptops performing
exciting activities are no doubt perfect.
A class! really higher class….
Yes, I also have these (Ha! Ha!) .
Suddenly, I placed my eyes into a boy.
He has a dusty sack except having a toy.
Now, I’m watching him deeply .
I got his face slippery.
He is a dweller of a slum.
Now, he want to make wet his tongue
seeking some food.
Do you know, what the expensive articles are in his bag?
He gathers your damaged glasses, your furniture’s, our toilet mug….
He wants to exchange it
to get his living a little bit.
Alas! What a class!
You know this class.
I will be happiest one
If I would get him a class.
He needs a class…….

poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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We're Going To Be Friends

Fall is here, hear the yell
back to school, ring the bell
brand new shoes, walking blues
climb the fence, books and pens
I can tell that were going to be friends
Walk with me, Suzy Lee
through the park and by the tree
we will rest upon the ground
and look at all the bugs we found
then safely walk to school
without a sound
Well here we are, no one else
we walked to school all by ourselves
theres dirt on our uniforms
from chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now its time to learn
Numbers, letters, learn to spell
nouns, and books, and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class, through the hall
teacher marks our height
against the wall
And we dont notice any time pass
we dont notice anything
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that I sound funny
but she likes the way you sing
Tonight Ill dream while in my bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when I wake tomorrow Ill bet
that you and I will walk together again
cause I can tell that were going to be friends

song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Going To Be Friends

Fall is here, hear the yell
back to school, ring the bell
brand new shoes, walking blues
climb the fence, books and pens
I can tell that we're going to be friends
Walk with me, Suzy Lee
through the park and by the tree
we will rest upon the ground
and look at all the bugs we found
then safely walk to school
without a sound
Well here we are, no one else
we walked to school all by ourselves
there's dirt on our uniforms
from chasing all the ants and worms
we clean up and now its time to learn
Numbers, letters, learn to spell
nouns, and books, and show and tell
at playtime we will throw the ball
back to class, through the hall
teacher marks our height
against the wall
And we don't notice any time pass
we don't notice anything
we sit side by side in every class
teacher thinks that I sound funny
but she likes the way you sing
Tonight I'll dream while in my bed
when silly thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
that you and I will walk together again
cause I can tell that we're going to be friendsThe White Stripes Lyrics Index

song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Smile

I can't get
His smile
Out of my mind
You're so cute and adorable person
Please keep smiling because you light up
The room with your cute smile
Every time I see you I freeze like ice
I have butterflys in my stomach
I don't want to move, just stay in my sit and see
His smile
From outside of class he want me to open the door, but
I want to do is stare at
His smile
I feel like I been glue to my chair
You make me want to smile all the time
It been long time that I done that and thanks to you
I able to smile and feel happy
You bring back real me
Ryan
Promise me that you won't stop smiling
It's the cutest thing I ever saw
Nothing will ever change that because
His smile
I will never forget
His smile

poem by Christina Phan
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The couple in the evening class

As the new year’s evening class
filed in, in varying displays of enthusiasm or cool,
discreetly summing up their tutor
you couldn’t help but notice them
despite their modest manner –
of equal height, and that a little under average

couples attending class together
always catch my too premature thoughts –
has he brought her? has she brought him?
is this just a stage in careful courtship,
attending a class together?
where will they sit? couples tend to choose
the front row or the back, I’ve noticed;
often arrive at ease, as if they’ve met up after work,
taken a coffee or a light snack…
which will ask a question first? and when they do,
will some slight frisson of emotional thought-wave
pass between them? suppose after the first term,
one leaves, one stays – will the one who stays, feel freer
to ask more questions? or will I sense
that invisible tug of apron-strings…?

over the weeks, although they gave no overt sign of it,
they became a sweet, still place in the class,
a perfect balance between individuality and togetherness;
when he or she asked a question or gave an answer,
the other radiated almost imperceptibly
a quiet pride so pure that it was more, delight,
as one might do with a son or daughter.

At the end of the year, our paths went their separate ways;
and yet, after so many years, so many classes, so many students,
they’ve left a quiet place in my memory;
of humble simplicity, strength clothed as modesty,
boundless possibility –

they, the silent tutor;
I, the observing student.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Heritage Hills Class Of Eighty-One

Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Here it is, the year two thousand eleven
Thirty years, thirty years, where did it go
Saddened to learn a few are gone on to Heaven

Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
My, oh my, where did the time fly
Wow…victories, tears, joy, and fun
Being a grandparent is love not to deny

Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Some led the life of the moth to the flame
Many went on to higher knowledge
Knowing happiness in a life that's tame

Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
One time Providence dealt us a course unknown
We handled it, conquered it, survived it
Now, we bask in seeing our children grown

Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Yes, we are middle aged and gray
A few aches, a few pains, but no complaints
It's class reunion time…oh what a great day

poem by Charles Hancock
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An angel was passing through the Sky

Hey! Anyone can answer me what's life.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.

Can anyone tell me what is dream.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.

Can anyone tell me what is fear.
All the hands in the class raised.
Teacher was glad to see those.
'So, you all know', teacher said.

Can anyone tell me what is mind.
All the hands in the class go down.
Time was passing, without a single sound.
Classroom was fulfilled by husky wind.
'Last bench corner '
'Last bench corner ', hey! you tell me.
The boy was looking far far away behind the window grills.
Stood up.
Placed his hand on his chest and closed his eyes.

An angel was passing through the Sky.

poem by Sougata Majumder
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When I

When I see your smile it brightens my whole day.
when I hear your voice all the stress I carry melts away.
when I'm talking to you its like the whole world stops.
All that matters is your talking to me.
will the butterflies ever stop?
I picked out a song and too many quotes to count.
Daydreaming in class of what we could be.
I hope you open your eyes and see what a beautiful thing this could be.
I tell myself your not worth it but you find your way into my heart and mind.

poem by Francesca Marie
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Stained Class

Wild-eyed and tight fisted, Im fused to the bone
I stand contemplating, reacting alone
Impaled with betrayal
The tourniquet turns
Societys creation
Pole-axed out and burnt
Long ago when man was king,
His heart was clean now hes stained class
Time has slashed each untouched thing,
So now hes just a stained class king
Transfixed at deliverance, is this all there is
Faithless continuum, into the abyss
Fierce is my conviction, absolute my belief
I spit at you apathy, and seducer deceit
Long ago when man was king,
His heart was clean now hes stained class
Time has slashed each untouched thing,
So now hes just a stained class king
Lethal, deadly, hung, drawn and quartered
He slaughtered and faltered and altered the world
But by doing so smashed all his hopes and utopian dreams
Whipping, stripping, peeling the flesh off, relentless and senseless
His lust snapped like vipers whose fangs sank in deep
To infest and decay from the core
Impaled with betrayal, the tourniquet turns
Societys creation, pole-axed out and burnt
Long ago when man was king,
His heart was clean now hes stained class
Time has slashed each untouched thing,
So now hes just a stained class king
Stained class king

song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Americans sometimes say to me that they have no class system themselves. All human beings have class systems. It can be based on a different thing in a different country, but the thing about breeding is, you can't buy it. You can't buy class.

quote by Anne Perry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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