Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Omar Kawash Aug 2014
In a hammock
On the eve of final exams
There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing
the distances of Starbucks and the library,
an unusual sight at eleven at night

There is peace
In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma-
running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag
Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious

There is heat condensed around the height of brains
Struggling to realize dreams that require
Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work
The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves

There is energy in the fractal jungle above
The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering
I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt.
The light pollution overpowers his body but
he reminds me that there is more in the astral world

Ibis scour the ground
Some would read the tea leaves
that bravest of birds has crossed my path
And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life

There is closure to my left
Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell
Only they know what goes on inside,
and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites
I wrote this last final exam season (Spring 2014). I decided it's worthy time to post it as my last day as an undergrad with my last final today. Cheers to the best years of my life. May you see the beauty in challenges too.
EDIT: Spring 2015 finals are upon students. And UM had the audacity to remove the hammocks that were so representative of finals season. Now, they have bean bags. This now feels more like an elegy for a time that once was. Ending my possible rant here.
Like a newly formed dandelion, it is beautiful.
Entwined with the glistening rays of the sun.
Such youth, such aspiration, you stand tall and strong.
Though when an unexpected gust takes presence, you fall apart.

Your remains are scattered far and wide,
and they grow on their own.
You're seen, there, there, and there.
You're letting go.

You're re-growing. Into a stronger, more secure dandelion.

- High School Relationships?
I honestly don't know how to write about high school relationships? Does this even make sense?

The part where your remains are scattered in a way represents when you're broken and you go to various people to let it out. To become stronger and to become a new person.
SAM Jul 2014
Buzz, buzz, buzz
The fly says as it circulates
Around the congested classroom
The sound of pencil to paper
As art is created on the
Corners of failed labs and late assignments
Breathe in the soft pink flakes
Of your neighbors easer
That tickles your nose
And makes you cough
Hear the tapping of a pen
At the edge of a desk
As you silently beg for the teacher
To notice and cease it
Feet shuffle and bags are grabbed
In anticipation of the
Bell

s.a.m.
Alexia Côté Jun 2014
Here’s to teachers who are different,
Teachers who don’t always teach us the same,
Boring old grammar lessons,
Who learn each and every one of our names,
And who are well-respected men,

Here’s to teachers who are different,
Teachers they call crazy or eccentric,
Teachers that people think don’t do the trick,
With their sense of humor they charm,
And they never mean any harm,

Here’s to teachers who are different,
Teachers with a need to tease,
For every kid is an opportunity to seize,
As history has shown,
It’s their difference that has student’s minds blown
This is a sort of parody to the poem "Kids who are different" by Digby Wolff. I wrote it because my english teacher posted this in the front of his classroom and I wanted him to know how much I admired him.
raingirlpoet Jun 2014
Dear Teacher,
I am not your "Inspiration" nor am I your "Motivation"
Do not use me as an "Example"
They hate me enough already
I do not need to talk to you after class, I am doing just fine
Bs aren't acceptable?
I'm sorry I couldn't complete your assignment
I was mentally ill that day.
No, don't give me an A when I didn't work for it
That's cheating
Me
Out of life
Yes I can handle it
I'm not as Weak as you think I am
Dear Teacher
I know I made you cry at graduation
You didn't think I'd be able to do it
I told you
I could handle it.
I'll always remember
Fifth period, Junior year
Walking in to class on a bad day
To be met with a warm smile
And a first bump from
Mr. Carter.

When I first met you, Mr. Carter
I thought you were a strange bird
You said things that were so absurd
I'm surprised you keep your job

Yet, You always had a way of making me see things
From another perspective
Besides my own
And I would like to thank you for that
Because it takes a lot to sway my opinion.

I remember when Jacob was sleeping
And you broke out the fishing pole,
Stealthily lifted his hat,
And stuffed it under in the light
Yeah, I'll always remember that.

I've never had a teacher that cared so much
That would stick his neck out for students, like you
Always concerned, asking how we were,
Make us smile when we're blue

I would always sit and write,
Instead of doing my work
And you always pushed me back on track,
Yet I don't think you've laid eyes on a verse

So since the end is drawing soon,
And the calender has been marked June
I decided I'd write a poem to my favorite teacher,
A verse from me to you
Mr. Carter has become my favorite teacher ever, and now that I'm leaving his class, I really am saddened. I'll remember him always,
R Daniel May 2014
All we see is love.

In our eyes our own demise.

Drunk on old songs.

Stripping down our hearts.

Becoming one with all our scars.

Stay with me tonight.

Wasting our youth in the moonlight.
R Daniel May 2014
Tears taste bitter against your cold bed.
I miss the warmth of your chest, where I use to rest my head.                               Cornered and alone, this bed is all I have now.                                                                I moan.

So I lay here in a position so awkward to describe. My legs are crossed and my arms open wide. My hair in tangles and my eyes blood-red.

I gaze at the tattered walls and the dilapidated windows.
Is this the place we once called home?
Now this place feels like history, a place to see the ruins, Rome?        
Or a past life or a distant memory.

Whenever I trudge past these walls and lie flat on this bed, emotions that I once knew greet me and remind me not to forget.
So I sit up, arms wrapped around my knees, and my head bowed to my chest. I weep. I regret.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Time passes as I waste my tears, my breath, my luck.

Huh, I’m still alive. I'm still breathing.
Just a few more tears, then I'll chuck.
You will always be in our hearts
Fire started, deep within my heart;
Splinters burning, driving me to do my part.
Fire growing, burning in my chest;
Watching left and right, trying to do my best.

People watching, thinking that I’m in pain;
Pouring water, feeling that I could gain.
Trauma building, for no reason at all;
Confusion creeps in, hoping my fire would stall.

Staring, glaring, saying it’s a mistake;
**** those people who fear to risk the stake.
Walk in silence, one day they would know;
Meddling with fire only gets them low.

Fire blazing, deep within my soul;
Nothing’s going to stop me from achieving my goal.
Fire roaring, it must be satisfied;
Crushing other thoughts, a constant river cried.

Fire never ends, deep within my being;
Ending the long race, never thought of fleeing.
Fire goes on, deep within myself;
Won the long race, not much of a scar or cleft.
ArkiBuilding #L2

A glimpse to the arena,
Eyes on that screen
They laugh
Without reflection,
Reality faded out.

A bang to the innermost,
Fringe between
An invisible being,
Taking off
Devoid of wings,
With eyes wide open.

They left a mark,
A panorama of silence

SILENCE…

A startling ending.

What the humankind portrays,
Seems right..
Seems perfect…
But… **a smoke of inanity.
While in class, I tried thinking about a good poem. I tried searching for words, then I got a good heartbeat.

In the field of Architecture, it really is a different world: to chase dreams, to never hold back and to embrace the brighter future. Yet, I had these thoughts that says, "Until when we'd be blinded of such things? Until when we'd delay the generations thirst for change?" Yes, I am recalling.

The Journey 2011
Next page