Accountability
Cold nights outside the taverns in Wyoming
pickups and big semis lounge idling, letting their
haunches twitch now and then in gusts of powder snow,
their owners inside for hours, forgetting as well
as they can the miles, the circling plains, the still town
that connects to nothing but cold and space and a few
stray ribbons of pavement, icy guides to nothing
but bigger towns and other taverns that glitter and wait:
Denver, Cheyenne.
Hibernating in the library of the school on the hill
a few pieces by Thomas Aquinas or Saint Teresa
and the fragmentary explorations of people like Alfred
North Whitehead crouch and wait amid research folders
on energy and military recruitment posters glimpsed
by the hard stars. The school bus by the door, a yellow
mound, clangs open and shut as the wind finds a loose
door and worries it all night, letting the hollow
students count off and break up and blow away
over the frozen ground.
poem by William Stafford
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Related quotes
I'll Let The Winter Blow
It’s a cold cold morning out there
But I, I wouldn’t know
My door is locked
My windows shut
I’ll let the winter blow
And there’s ice this time of season
But you, you will not be
The winter winds
The raging snow
Or ice inside of me
And I’ve heard my heart is frozen
But I, I wouldn’t know
My door is locked
My windows shut
I’ll let the winter blow
poem by Ben Paynter
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Bomb Threat
sitting in class
baking some food
when we were told
to leave the school
we had to go
on to the track
away from the school
and to not look back
a bomb threat was called
into the school
who would do this
they must be a fool
they searched the school
with stomachs in knots
while we watched anxiously
as it started getting hot
they thought they found it
behind the bleachers
but it was a false alarm
according to the teachers
a lot of the students
are scared to go back
they didn't even want
to leave the track
now that we're in
all still shaking
thinking to ourselves
if they were mistaking
what if it was real
and it happens again
the school would blow up
and that'd be the end
now it's the next day
students still in a roar
about the bomb threat
that opened the door
it made us realize
that the worse could happen
even in a small town
just like Washington
even small towns
can cause a big scandal
just remember not to panic
so you can handle.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
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Ringing Heart
Ringing heart
I am a gust of wind
From the north warm and cold
With a tender touch
I blow
Just keep open your wonderful window
Under the mystical dark cover I hide
And wait for your whisper call
To enter like a king to
steal
your ringing heart
Just keep your wonderful door open and wide
Like your dream man at a deep dark night
I break into your thrilling room
As a rain of desire or dream of ray
When I see at your door step
You spread
Colourful love petals
Over the hot and red carpet.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Perfect school
THE PERFECT SCHOOL
A place where a student worships his teacher as a god,
The heads of the children before their teacher nod.
The place is the school where teachers give education,
It’s a school where there is afforestation.
A school that has all the beauties,
Is a perfect school whose students have all the qualities.
A school whose students will become president and magic vista,
A school whose students will become Rabindranath Tagore and Mother Teresa.
The Perfect School is a school whose trees will always be uploaded with fruits of joy, success and happiness,
A school whose students will never have a future of darkness.
That school will conquer the world,
In that school, music will be sung by birds.
CONTRIBUTED BY:
Gautam Kumar Sharma
poem by Gautam Sharma
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Dream man
dream man (popular poetry)
I am a gust of wind
From the North, warm and cold
With a tender touch
I blow
Just keep open your wonderful window
To hear your wet husky whisper call
with bated breath
I wait
to enter and steal your ringing heart
like a king
under the mystic cover
I hide
just keep open your wonderful door, wide
Like your dream man at a deep dark night
I break into your thrilling room
As a rain of desire or dream of ray
When I see at your door step
You spread
Colourful love petals
Over the hot and red carpet.
copyright @ abdul wahab 7th November 2012
poem by Abdul Wahab
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School: (
I dont like school you big fool
I'd rather be doing a dool,
Than go to school.
The teachers are ok,
But I just want to float away.
Don't want to go to school today.
Maybe it will snow,
But it will be cold though.
I just don't want to go to school.
The only thing I like is the friends.
But when we grade things,
I always loose my pens.
I just don't want to go to school.
poem by Hannah Reynolds
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In the Letting Go
In the letting go,
A freedom unknown
Becomes as welcomed
As fresh falling snow...
On Pine trees green.
In the letting go,
A release becomes sacred
To experience,
As an unpolluted breeze...
To breathe a feeding done easily.
In the letting go,
One knows a life has arrived to be explored.
In the letting go...
An unexpected flow,
Connects.
To all.
And all that is there to be shared,
Comes.
To the one letting go to let life be as it is,
To live as wished!
Without restricted limits inflicted.
In the letting go,
So much that isn't within reach...
Instantly becomes available to touch.
In the letting go,
There is such a thing called living.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hot Night In A Cold Town
Sonnys out strolling, ambling slowly
Washed in amber street lights
A mexican wind blows in
Takin ahold of angelinas hair
And her halo
Motors running, muffling the sound
Of the street talk
A big deals goin down
In another hot night
In a cold town
Got yourself a hot night
In a cold town
Johnnys got spare change
In his pocket
A ring and a watch
To hock for a sweet ride
A one way ticket
Hidden in his shoe
These last few hours
He says hell spend with you
Hes leavin home without a trace
No forwarding address
Hell never have to face another
Hot night
In a cold town
Got yourself a hot night
In a cold town
Well, the losers and the groovers
And the corner boys
Are hangin around
Runnin in and out of doorways
Up and down the stairways
Stray dogs headed for the pound
In another
Hot night in a cold town
Got you, got yourself a
Hot night in a cold, cold town
Cold town
Its just another hot night
In a cold town
Such a cold town
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frozen
Frozen
By: Adam M. Snow
Memories frozen and gone,
like sands in broken time,
'gainst the blackest of dawn,
yet cold with no love sublime.
To be alone in ice of despair,
with hearts cold and frozen.
There's nothing left to bear,
for all who are chosen.
Like frost in the wind,
chilling a lonely being,
leaving nothing to mend,
like a ghost without seeing.
Dreams now cold like ice,
falling to pieces,
not once but twice,
as the days decreases.
What else is there to know,
with everything oh so cool?
Like being ghost in the snow,
and you being the fool.
All's now cold like a winter's night,
like little breezes dusk and shiver,
and with unpleasant delight,
with fear all is quiver.
Staring now out a hoar frost window,
alone, cold and wilted,
with your sufferings and woe,
waiting to strike you dead.
All's now cold hearted,
like frozen in ice,
as all's departed,
and you're the sacrifice.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Back There In Millstreet County Cork
Back there in Millstreet County Cork the frosted fields are gray
And old Clara wears his hat of snow on this cold January day
And cattle in the farmyard shed are bellowing for hay
Back there in Millstreet County Cork far north and far away.
Through old fields west of Millstreet Town the Finnow bank high flow
Through Inchaleigh, Coomlogane and Claragahatlea by many a bare hedgerow
Robins, blackbirds and sparrows by back door eat crumbs of bread
Before the Spring for them some hard and hungry times ahead.
Back there through Millstreet County Cork harsh winds of January blow
The days and nights are wet and cold quite cold enough to snow
In Duhallow I was born and raised though far from there I may die
And that I still feel nostalgia for the place of that why should I lie.
Back there in Millstreet County Cork the wintery winds blow chill
Across the bleak unsheltered face of Clara's bracken hill
And on the high fields by the hill beneath a darkened sky
The hungry fox out hunting utters forth a wild shrill cry.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tea Party with Principal Sir! !
What a nice tea party!
Cakes and coffee
Organized at Bangladesh International School & College
For the meritorious students of this school
Oh! Our Principal Sir Col Md Anisur Rahman Chowdhury!
Encourages the students very much
Give us rising hopes
Guides us to the right path as a good human being
What a talented person he is!
He has many dreams with this school!
Scholarship and Talent batch are being awarded by Him to the students!
Such a dedicated and hard working person he is!
We are trying our best to prove our talent!
Our Principal Sir is trying to make our country and school famous!
In such a way so that our country and school are known in the whole world!
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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Turns To Stone
A thousand miles underneath my emotions
Hidden from the eyes of everyone
No one must know
All the secrets if my soul anymore
No never again
Girl youve got the only key
To open up the door only you
Eventually, even that could change
Chorus:
I will wait for you
But I dont want to wait forever
Cause Im on my own
Im trying to keep the fire from getting cold
I will wait for you
But I dont want to wait
Until our love turns to stone
I dont want to turn to stone
I dont want to spend another night without you
Im afraid my mind will start to wander
Time between us,
Hours turning into days, into years
Oh, oh, oh
Looking back at what went wrong
Some things we must let you
Eventually, somethings got to give
(chorus)
I dont want to turn to stone
(repeat chorus and fade)
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it everyday.
We cant go on the grass
We cant bother another class
We cant save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
They have to many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have classwork
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Chantel Braatz
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Morning
Its the same old situation
Same old faces, but a different town
Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide
Im dancing with the shadows,
In a cold moonlight.
And I cant wait until the morning
I cant wait another minute, hour day or night,
I cant wait until the morning,
You know it wont feel so cold.
Its 5 am, and I just got into bed
And the heart of the city is almost gone,
And I know what is right
And I know what is wrong
Im dancing with the shadows,
In a cold moonlight.
And I cant wait until the morning
I cant wait another minute, hour day or night,
I cant wait until the morning,
You know it feels so cold.
Sometimes in between my dreams at night,
I walk alone Im going underground.
And in the distance I can hear a crowd.
It makes me wonder what its all about.
All about...
All about
Its the same old consolation,
Different faces in the same old town,
Nowhere to run to
Nowhere to hide,
Theyre dancing with the shadows,
In a cold moonlight
And I cant wait until the morning
I cant wait another minute, hour day or night,
I cant wait until the morning,
You know it feels so cold
song performed by by Wet Wet Wet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wait River Wait...
Wait river wait
So cold & night.
The moon is coming on the sky
So fright with light.
Wait river wait
For at one night.
The stars are twinkling in the sky
Like a diamond kite.
Wait river wait
On cold, greenland night.
poem by Arun kumar
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A School Is So Not Cool
School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it every day.
We can’t go on the grass
We can’t bother another class
We can’t save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
They have too many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have class work
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Fahed Sharaf
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chapter one- The key in the darkness
'youll be fine! ', said my mom in a calm tone of voice.
I was sitting in my mom warm car, look out at the passanger seat window.Out that window was my new school. The school Id been waiting all summer to go to. My older school was a very small, private school. Im mean this school was extreemly small, to the point that the average people in each class was about 15 students. My old school was also very strict, catholic school.To also a point were we went to chapel every sunday and even had religious class everyday.
As I looked to my mom and said good-bye, i stepped out of the car.As i was walking towards the school I could feel my hands getting sweaty and my heart beating a little faster. As i reached out my hand to grab those big double door to my new school, i stopped. Just for a breif moment i thought that this was it, no turning back. that beyond those doors might be pure joy or pure sadness.
But what I didnt know, is that beyond those door what truly lied ahead for my future.
September, The First Day Of School
I
My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.
Each fall the children must endure together
What every child also endures alone:
Learning the alphabet, the integers,
Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff
So arbitrary, so peremptory,
That worlds invisible and visible
Bow down before it, as in Joseph's dream
The sheaves bowed down and then the stars bowed down
Before the dreaming of a little boy.
That dream got him such hatred of his brothers
As cost the greater part of life to mend,
And yet great kindness came of it in the end.
II
A school is where they grind the grain of thought,
And grind the children who must mind the thought.
It may be those two grindings are but one,
As from the alphabet come Shakespeare's Plays,
As from the integers comes Euler's Law,
As from the whole, inseperably, the lives,
The shrunken lives that have not been set free
By law or by poetic phantasy.
But may they be. My child has disappeared
Behind the schoolroom door. And should I live
To see his coming forth, a life away,
I know my hope, but do not know its form
Nor hope to know it. May the fathers he finds
Among his teachers have a care of him
More than his father could. How that will look
I do not know, I do not need to know.
Even our tears belong to ritual.
But may great kindness come of it in the end.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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I Wait At The Door Of My Own Life
I WAIT AT THE DOOR OF MY OWN LIFE
I wait at the door of my own life
It does not open
The cities of the world go by
I do not visit them
Soon I will die
The great universe will go on spinning
My dreams will be forgotten
I wait at the end of my life for the door to open
And no one waits on the other side
I am alone with a lifetime of pages
Who will ever never read them?
This poem too waiting by the door
Knows it will never open.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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