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Lily Sep 11
I don’t think some of you know
How much you mean to me.
Every time the bell rings, and
I see you coming out of your class,
Reliable, every day,
Calming me and reassuring me that
No matter what is happening,
The world is still moving.
Every time you smile at me in class,
Even though we don’t really talk,
It brightens my day and
Makes me realize that maybe
Mankind isn’t so bad after all.
Every time we share a laugh,
A football game, a tough test,
A change in the school,
I grow closer to each and every one of you,
Even though you don’t realize it.
But when that final bell rings,
Will you be there?
Will you be with me past final exams,
After the final bell?
Because you will know who your real friends are
When the final bell rings.
Gemma Davies Sep 6
It's fun to play inside the house,
Puzzles, building blocks and more.
But playing outside is the best,
So just open up the door!

Get some mud on your trousers,
Some grass stains on your shirt.
Play around in the rain or sun,
Don't be scared of all the dirt.

Stomp around in giant puddles,
Whether it's December or July.
The best classroom has no walls,
And is roofed only by the sky.
My poem was lovingly made into a 'Me to You Bear' video:
Don’t look down
where emaciated bodies lie beyond salvation
they’re beneath you
when you preach for profit.

Don’t look down
to idle bones on the edge of prison walls
they’ve already fallen
their hands too bloodied to shake
their eyes too blind to see the mistakes they are yet to make.
Save the souls with the pound sign goals
avert your eyes from the misery of the fallen
they’re not even there
if you don’t look down.
So, I was walking through the centre of Manchester as preachers had grins fixed on their faces, handing out flyers to the well-dressed passers-by, ignoring the homeless people that were surrounding them. Doesn't make sense does it?
Color’s dervish, wanton rays
bark big waves out to little eyes -
surmise that they could live so bright,
or cut their burden down in middle flight
with Pantone Answer. Limber fantasies
hung dainty on the wire, we blast
a spectrum: chilling op-eds,
townless crier making hay
from sunny days’ hot take.

Alarm us! Twist like windy satchels
full of Great Divide
between the Haves and Left-Behind.
And as the bank vanishes wage,
we colors come of age
in numbers borne to rap
the sounding toll upon its steady head
and leave for dead his monuments
to Avarice, Big Dollar pulled in tow -
it’s too much meat, you know.
Too sufferful for show
when corny love could fit the bill:
high-mounting, climbing still.

Arrest the cold diversions from
your living-time and feel the sun
whenever possible; the harbingers
of war will tremble color-ward
and drop the gun.
Haleigh Aug 21
I care about popularity
I care about my looks
I care about the boy in the back of the class
I don't care about who I surround myself with
I don't care about my health, why eat more than 1 meal a day
I only care if the boy in the back of class likes me
I don't care about myself
I care about you. The one reading, it's You.
It's me,
Caring too much
Acting stupid for you
Starving for you
Just to look perfect enough so you know,
I'm here for you.

It's is such a selfless act of anxiety so discriminated.
This may be confusing so here's a summary!:  it's me saying that I change every aspect of myself,...for myself. But I don't do it for self-acceptance, it's so I can accept YOU accepting me. If I went to school with no makeup, I would think every word you tell me is a lie or that you only talk to me because you HAVE to. Because not even I can look at myself as normal human being when I'm makeupless without breaking down eternally.
RJP Shanahan Aug 20
Trampling through their city paths,
Hunting ground, mean street.
They perch aloft towers of oak;
Dripping with prestige vine, wrapped
With silk leaves, soft to touch
And hard to climb.

The Sun sets over the seven lakes
Of spring kissed, freshly mown
Fields of scorn blessed by
Solitudal and beady eyes.
Gates keeping out the world that
Wishes them harm.

They sit so high peering down,
At our destitution, our self-prohetised Might!
And think:
“Pfft you all wish you could fly
JM Sutherland Aug 16
We worry and we wrestle
Day by Day
With the thought
We won't have enough
Our account balances
Sometimes as low
As our happiness.
And instead of wading
In life's treasured moments
Like some picturesque Hallmark
We sit in an ocean of frowns
Contagious they feed us
With the thoughts that
Maybe someday we
Might have enough
Maybe we too can
Have enough money
Where we can control
Our own destinies
And maybe if we just
Work hard enough
We too can join

The enlightened
The happy
The free
But as life's camera
Zooms out of focus
Our slave collars tighten
Around the dollars
We grip onto with our
Strength that slowly fades
Starving, as we stare
At some motivational story
Hanging on the mantle
Of our Master's mansions.
Carla Aug 9
Algebra, how wonderful,
Calculus, even greater,
Do you want the cons,
Now or later?

Well, I can't say I don't enjoy it,
Mathematics is interesting enough,
But it can get a tad confusing,
And pretty freaking tough.

I'm currently in math class,
How funny is that?
Yeah, not much,
But we can't exactly chat.

We can't talk, I finished the task,
So now, what do I do?
Write a poem of course,
With equations like, 73+2.

I tried my best,
A poem in class,
I hope you enjoyed,
But it doesn't mean I'll pass.
As I was writing this poem, my Math teacher looked over my shoulder and read it, he started laughing so I'm glad he enjoyed my silly little poem. I did finish it at home though, as the class ended as I wrote the third stanza.
Chabadtzke Aug 8
There is a class
Across the sea
That's small in size
With students, three

The students' names
And average grades
Are A, B, C
The roll-book states

Of the trio
A's the one
Who aces tests
And frowns on fun

The apple of
His teacher's eye
A has nary
Cause to cry

Kid C exults
In being bad
He signs his name
"Rebellious Lad"

His afternoons
He's proud to mention
He spends with teacher
In detention

A classic class
Don't you agree?
What's that you say?
Oh, pardon me!

There's also B!
I quite forgot
An oversight-
Thanks a lot!
A tribute to all the B students out there, I acknowledge your existence! I myself was never a B student (instead I swing violently between A and C) but I try to sympathize with them.
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