the boy at Laoy
the boy is selling
charcoal
the teacher marks
him absent
from school
another boy cannot
make it this year
for graduation in his
sixth grade
his mother is in
the house resting
as she just delivered
a new baby girl
the boy has to buy
her food
a chicken soup
to warm her guts
his father died
two months ago
lost in the sea
the typhoon came
without notice
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Mrs. Martin
My favorite teacher,
Of all times,
Is my old sixth grade teacher.
She's known me,
Since I was small.
She's helped me,
With womework and love.
Sweet and nice,
Beautiful and friendly,
My old sixth grade teacher,
Will be my friend,
Til the end.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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She Is Forgotten Pt.1 (Story)
Her parents don't notice her birthday
is just two months away.
nor do they care.
she asks a simple question.
'since my party is two months away
do i get a party? '
before she finishes a quick 'no' is heard.
'theres a party for you? ' her dad says
always trying to make her feel better.
but she knows that there is nothing for her
she hasn't had anything more than a sleep
over since she turned nine.
not only that, next year while she graduates
from the eighth grade to high school her
sister graduates from high school and so
does a friend
her sister gets a graduation party but
she isn't included in it.
she asks why she can't be included in it
and her mom replies
'you're sister didn't get an eighth grade
graduation so neither will you! '
she snaps at her mom
'well ill invite my own friends and
include myself in it no matter what you say! '
but deep inside she knows she won't be included
and no one will come up to her at the party
and say 'congradulations on graduating
to high school' and if someone does they
must really love her but knowing she
can't do anything about it and never could
do anything about anything that happened,
she goes to her room and cries.
she turns her radio up loud and screams
to the song 'welcome to my life'
'do you lock yourself in your room! ? !
with the radio turned up so loud! ? !
that no one hears you screaming! ? !
no you don't know what its like! ? !
when nothing feels right! ? !
you don't know what its like! ? !
to be like meeeeeee! ? !
to be hurt! ? !
to feel lost! ? !
to be left out in the dark! ? !
to be kicked! ? !
when you're down! ? !
to feel like you've been pushed around! ? !
to be on the edge of breaking down! ? !
when no ones there to save you! ? !
no you don't know what its like! ? !
welcome to my life! '
that was her song
and no one could say it wasn't without lying
but that was only PART of one day!
(to be continued)
poem by Selena Star
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My Favorite Teacher
You helped me with math
You helped me with reading
Always there at your door with a friendly greeting
Oh how I will miss you!
I can not express how much I need you on a daily basis
You are so helpful
You are so kind
You are always there all the time
No longer a teacher but a companion
We had much fun in the classroom
Learning and shouting
And that's when it happened
A bond like no other
Not teacher to student,
But daughter to mother
You are the best
My sixth grade teacher
And I have to confess
You are my favorite
I will miss you so much
As the year ends
The time flew by
And we did not notice
But now as we stand here, two weeks away
I must say,
I was dreading this day.
poem by Laurena Rocks
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Mrs. Blaileen
Mrs. blaileen - she was a sixth grade teacher
And she controlled the children
By using humiliation.
The target always seemed to be donny.
He was a bit slower than the others.
When he was quite young
His mother died at the kitchen table
While choking on some food.
The fashion of the day
Was bleach and tied levi's.
Donny decided to make some,
But he didn't know to rinse them.
So he came to school a reekin'.
Bleach stenched filled the classroom.
Mrs. blaileen began to chastise.
She made him feel like an asshole
Two feet small.
Oh what a lonely boy.
Don and ronald
They always stuck together
For they were a bit different than the others
And they were as tight as brothers
Then ronald moved away.
Now steven
He was year or two younger
And he really thought he was something.
He liked to harass other children
Or anyone he found outnumbered.
Alone don walks from fishing.
Steven and his friend they stop him.
They took his hat and they taunt him,
Pimp-slap him with a newspaper.
Don lunged forward with his fish knife
Then ran all the way home weeping.
He gave his knife to his father and
Said "i think i hurt steve."
Oh what a lonely boy.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teacher Love
My mother is
Home
Teacher...
My
Teacher is
School
Mother....
My
Father is
Home
Teacher...
My
Teacher is
School father...
Female or male...
Not differnet for
Love...
And Teaching....
Any thing fals...?
No problem....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Moving Up Scared
Anxiety running through my vines
Like in the colors of a chock rainbow
Being washed off the side walk
A little scared but not enough to show it
I take that big step on my own
You know the step from
I know I'm a little kid to
I'm a big kid now that I'm in Middle School
I slowly walk down the blue carpeted terrifying hall
They made it scary for a reason
Then I met you Breanna
On the first day within the first 10 minutes
Some how you saw right through
My brave little 11 year old mask
The overwhelming lack of security
That was now so present
Making me not think in the right sate of mind
The stories of horror that all those years
My sister has told me and all I can think of
Is complete terror that is invading my body
Walking in those double doors for the first time
Was one of the scariest things I had ever done in my 15 years
I thought I was going to cry
And then did when I heard your voice tell me that
You knew I was scared to go to high school
Just like the first day of sixth grade
And the last day of eighth grade year
You know you always knew
Now it came the year that we were all working for
The year where we see that our teachers
Really do know what they are talking about
Their not crazy old people after all
And we get what their talking about
Some of the pieces of the skeleton of our lives
Start to fall into place
The year where we discover who we
For sure don’t want to be
The year where we think we have it all together
The year where the 4.0 doesn’t matter as much any more
Cause this is the year that you have to figure out where your
Going to live in 6 months after it hits you
Oh no I have to do this year there is no more next year
There is barely a tomorrow
then when you realize that tomarrow is coming too quick
and you dont know how to slow the clock down
you really know that the year has came and you hate to say it
but you have to grow up and be the adult now that
mommy and daddy arnt going to be there picking up the slack
all to soon
The year where you look to your best friend from sixth grade
And you know she is just as scared as you
This time Breanna I knew your scared too
A year to learn to really learn
This year is senior year and here and there it's almost
Scaring me to death
P.S
As a senior teachers always ask me to give advice to underclassmen and my advice is this to have fun join a club and a sport if you can make high school an amazing experience don’t do anything you will regret latter. However most of all try in your classes I’m not saying 4.0 just try, try hard because when your friends, and family are not there for you your education is all you will have.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Grade
We go to school and we learn
We go to school and we laugh
We go to school and we make friends
We go to school to know life
But parents are thinking something else
You should do better
You should do harder
It's just a year or two do your best
Are grade only part of us?
Does school offer us nothing more than grades?
School teach us how to laugh and cry
School is not only for grade
Please Mom Dad respect that
poem by Custous Angelus
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Time, Baby... Just Time!
jail time, heroin time,
back alley shuffle time,
standing in the soup line time....
sleeping in old cars time,
day work, selling blood time,
lost your job, no work time,
lost your house, nowhere time....
get your school in prison time,
radical free thought time,
fighting against the man time...
bum a smoke, a cup of coffee time.
woman done gone, aint coming back time.
food stamps and unemployment time...
kick off your damn chains time.
forgive, and forgiven time...
stand up and fight time,
hands joining hands time...
time, baby... just time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Parents Are Not Payable
Listen, dear brothers, sisters,
Look back in nostalgia;
Think about dear mother,
dear father,
The ones who gave life to you
And thaught you how to be
a man, a woman too;
Your mother who suckled you
Nine months she bore you
in her womb;
From his own sweat your
father paid for your school
And made sure your belly is
never emptied with food.
Think about them in
everything you do.
For some day you wil be
a father, a mother too
And your children will think
about you in everything
they do
They will think of the
troubles you went through
To help them pull through.
PARENTS can never be repaid
No matter the wealth you
may have attained.
Parents are not payable,
You just have to make them
feel comfortable,
And that would be enough
for their troubles.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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As It Was
Ginny loved it
when the time came
For their annual trip
to the seaside
And her father rented
the house with the big garden
that lead onto the sea.
She and her brothers and sister
Looked forward to it
every year and it seemed the sun
shone almost constantly
And the house seemed
as it was the year before
nothing changed nothing new
just the same rooms
and outlook and young Lily the maid
who came each year too
to help their mother
around the house
and watch
the younger children.
Her mother
Was the organiser
the one who seemed most near
to the children who seemed
to know the children’s needs
and wants and tried to keep
her husband happy
and allow him
his space and quiet
which he valued most of all.
Ginny liked it
when the sea was out
and there was plenty of sand
to play on to make a sand castle
with a moat and drawbridge
made from small pieces of driftwood
found on the beach.
But once her mother died
the seaside house
seemed less welcoming
the sea seemed
hardly ever to go out
than it was back again
the sun was less warm
less friendly
and her father
would mope
around the house
moaning and groaning
In his grief and bellowing
at Lily the maid
to do this and do that
making her cry
and only at night
when all were asleep
and Ginny was snuggled
Down in bed did it seem
as it was when her mother
would enter the room
and sit on the bed
and smile and whisper
the words she used to
placing a ghostly hand
on Ginny’s brow
and kiss her cheek.
Ginny remembered the house
By the sea years later
with the yellowy sand
And walking with Lily
the maid
hand in hand.
poem by Terry Collett
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Tragedy at Graduation
A girl who is seventeen,
A girl who is Rory Gilmore,
A girl that walks with confidence,
A girl who always leaves the door open to endless possibility.
As enemies in high school,
Hatred ran through the veins of Jordyn Parker for me,
Jordyn and I both wanted to be lawyers,
I was accepted into Yale University, while Jordyn was not.
Chilton High School was the beginning of a tragic ending,
Only two valedictorians in the school,
I was one, Jordyn was the other,
The other chose to make herself absent.
A palace like structure was the place of Jordyn's disappearance,
All the lights were off in the building except for the auditorium,
The last time Jordyn was seen was at around 5: 00 p.m.,
The schedule was to begin at 7: 00 p.m.
Shock engulfed me leaving me helpless,
My heart began to beat faster and faster,
A silhouette could be seen in a room,
As I began to walk towards the room it too moved.
Graduation consumed my mind,
Graduation had consumed my mind for the past twelve years,
Where was she,
How could she not afford to not represent herself?
Jordyn passed away at 6: 55 p.m.,
All she needed was some direction,
Jealousy was the outline behind the sheet of actions,
In a letter she stated, 'the world is looking out for you.'
Tragedy at Graduation.
poem by Gwendolyn Miller
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A Year Like This One
After a year like this one
Im surprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La la la la la ....
After a year like this one
Im suprised I do not hate your guts
And, after a year like this one
Im suprised I still love music just as much
After a year like this one
Im suprised I did not eat my arm
And, after a year like this one
Im sorry if Im not cordial to everyone
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im supised I am convinced at all
And, after a year like this one
I do not roll my eyes at the cynical
And,after a year like this one
I cant help wonder how theyve been
After a year like this one
I think Ill leave it all to my next-of-kin
La, la, la, la, la.....
After a year like this one
Im suprised were all not raving drunks and
After a year like this one
I want you to choose the restaurant
After a year like this one
Ill need a good whole 16 months alone and
After a year like this one
I think Ill make the west coast beaches my new home
La, la, la, la, la.....
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Morning Little Schoolgirl
(l.hopkins)
Originally performed by lightnin hopkins. it was performed live on air at mountain stage radio, west virginia, in a final jam that involved jeff and all the artists that participated to that broadcast, on april 2 1994.
Good mornin lil school girl,
Can I go home, can I go home with you?
Tell your mother and your father,
Im a little school boy too
Woke up this mornin,
Woke up this mornin,
I didnt know what to,
I didnt know what to do
I didnt have no blues,
Baby, bit I couldnt be satisfied
Im gettin me an airplane,
Im gettin me an airplane,
Get in my airplane
Gon fly all oh-oh, gon fly all over this land
Im gonna find my little school girl,
Find her in the world somewhere
Good mornin lil school girl,
Good mornin lil school girl
Can I go home with, can I go home with,
Can I go home with you?
Tell your mother and your father,
Johnny little school boy too
Come be my baby, come be my baby,
I buy you a diamond, I buy you a diamond ring
You dont be my little baby,
I aint gonna buy you a doggone ring
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nasrudin's donkeys
1
it’s graduation day
and the teacher gives awards
to each:
a book to one
a staff to another
silk or precious stones;
and to Nasrudin
the teacher
gives a donkey
2
It is some years
and the teacher
hears of Nasrudin’s fame
and comes to visit
the House of Prayer Nasrudin oversees
and to pay homage to the Saint
buried just beside
3
O Nasrudin,
says the teacher -
how great your fame
and vast your following
Tell me, which Eminent Saint
is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?
O Master,
says Nasrudin
It’s the donkey
you gave me
It died just 4 years after
and I buried him here
And everyone wants a Saint
so I have not disabused people
of their faith
4
The teacher nods with a smile
and Nasrudin continues:
But tell me Master –
which Eminent Saint is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?
Ah, Nasrudin, says the teacher
though people believe it’s a Saint
it’s really your dead donkey’s mother
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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I lost
I lost my mother
I lost my father
And Ilost my will too
I lost my my house
I lost my school
I lost my happyness too
I lost my my brother
I lost my sister
I lost my frinds too
I lost my life
And I lost my world too
poem by Celine Avoudikpon
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Baby, Lets Play House
(words & music by arthur gunter)
Oh, baby, baby, baby, baby baby.
Baby, baby baby, b-b-b-b-b-b baby baby, baby.
Baby baby baby
Come back, baby, I wanna play house with you.
Well, you may go to college,
You may go to school.
You may have a pink cadillac,
But dont you be nobodys fool.
Now baby,
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby,
I wanna play house with you.
Now listen and Ill tell you baby
What Im talking about.
Come on back to me, little girl,
So we can play some house.
Now baby,
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby,
I wanna play house with you.
Oh lets play house, baby.
Now this is one thing, baby
That I want you to know.
Come on back and lets play a little house,
And we can act like we did before.
Well, baby,
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby,
I wanna play house with you.
Yeah.
Now listen to me, baby
Try to understand.
Id rather see you dead, little girl,
Than to be with another man.
Now baby,
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby, come.
Come back, baby, I wanna play house with you.
Oh, baby baby baby.
Baby baby baby b-b-b-b-b-b baby baby baby.
Baby baby baby.
Come back, baby, I wanna play house with you.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Life Pro Choice
So a girl carrying a deformed baby in her that is her father's is a murderer because she has an abortion? When sperm hits egg it is process and biochemistry. When a person jumps off a hundred foot bridge they probably will die because of gravity. I don't believe God gets 10 year old girls pregnant by their fathers or rapists. There were over 32,000 rapes last year in the USA.
Can we be pro life with our own life yet not impose our morality upon everyone else?
What if a 12 year old is pregnant by her 15 year old boyfriend and she is in the midst of a break down and her parents decide she shouldn't have the baby; that she is too emotionally and mentally unstable? Her parents went through a divorce and she is doing bad in school and she is cutting herself. Happens all the time. Do we call her a murderer? Do we condemn her parents?
The youngest girl recorded to have given birth is 5 years old and 7 months......there are many many 8 and 9 year olds known to have given birth.
Ideals in a imperfect world enforced by a government with its power and apparatus can be a page out of Kafka, a nightmare of oppression.
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Urban
the old crone
slurping up
essence of chicken
soup
as though
it were chicken soup
itself, mis
taking the hum in
her veins
for the ima
gined chicken’s part
ing gift
while
I know it to be
no more
than hot
water’s mo
mentary warming,
and how mo
mentary when even naked
flame would howl
and wiggle
an in
jured fing
er, frost
bitten, coming
too close
to the
waft of de
parting chill.
[From: How Do You Withstand, Body; Publisher: Clearing House, Mumbai, 1976]
poem by Gieve Patel
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Happy Graduation Day
I waited for too long, guarded with much expectation
swings my life through rise and fall, until I conquer the
one I adore, the might of the grade raises me to go in
the paper record I knew I can be strong, project, field
trips and test makes it all, wow! its a graduation
packages deal everybody is called
long live the teacher, in every lines they watch it fall, the
reason waking until dawn melted candles and eyebrows
in the table ants eat them all, as the student always pray
to pass making them luck in the end wisdom and fate
leads its way, laughter, jokes and smiling sway every day
for it’s the path to reach and catch every minutes and hour
of the day until the doorstep of the hall everybody love to
stay
mother and father watch as you walk in the pathways and
in the aisles you look like a baby as your smile in the
roof top, always make you happy, for graduation day your
friend and love one witness your beauty, just close and
breath as you could make it; the whole day is you to do
the best in you
see and reward the past, learn to vow the one you believe,
live the future and bring the past, know yourself forget the
wounded lies, be on guard the present is you to step, nay!
the future will come, for only the you is the one you adore
leave nothing that forget you, always be ready, only our love
will leads you in your way.....now go and Happy Graduation
Day.....in your life
poem by Antonio Liao
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