"grading" poems
I'm sorry if things would come out so wrong
It's just that I've loved you for oh so very long
I don't know how I should interact
Or how I should come to react
I'd stutter like I'm a big dork
I make worse conversations than that of a fork
But it's because I'm just charmed by your smile
I guess it's my way to stay with you for a while
I keep my distance, not because I want a good bye
But it's just that.. Well.. I'm way to shy
I get all shaky when our shoulders would touch
It's probably because I've longed for that so much
*You must know what you do to me when our hands would simply touch
If happiness were a grading system, I'd be at the top notch*
So please don't be weirded out by how I am
I'm trying to be normal with the best that I can
I'm awkward, shy but oh so very kind
and you're the only girl who's in my mind
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Depression
Enveloping darkness swallowing wholly
Confused family hurting daily
Unhappy memories haunting mercilessly
Concerned friends worrying quietly
Prospective future slipping quickly
Oblivious teachers grading harshly
Low self-esteem dropping endlessly
Understanding lover comforting gently
Frigid emptiness bellowing angrily
Lively peers ignoring unintentionally
Selfish
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Same old drudgery,
Papers fresh for grading;
Topics, seldom new,
If honestly presented,
At least encourage worth
In form, in format, in tradition.
Plagiarism creeps up,
Always shocking,
The unauthorized changing
Of voice, of tone, of diction,
Not unlike the sting of a ruthless needle,
The drip of a hollowed, poisoned fang,
The bite of frost, burning a tender cheek...
Sadly familiar, this strident pang.
All hope is lost.
Anger sets in,
Trust wilts,
Hope fades gray.
In plagiarism, the fool's truth lies;
To belie one's honor is to watch it die.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
The old man said to me "son, timing is key"
I said, "old dude you look like a man who heard about rythym".
Old felines like you come a dime for a dozen, always poppin of yang about isms and schisms .
Naw fresh meat. This buds for you, If I really knew then what I thought that I knew
I wouldn't be grading your papers with exes and checks but I see in your eyes that your vision is short.
You think you hot **** but aint all that smart.
FYI pops I think that you reading me wrong.
You cant see my dimensions nor fade my intentions.
So you think they broke the mold. you have this thing down cold.
This has never been done before you.
Here ,wipe your nose.
Hey Senor senior if your so informed,then please pass along a few high value pearls.
How bout the one telling about what women want cause you really cleaned up in
the female department .
The old man just smiled and said "pearls before swine.
Just drop a few breadcrumbs to find your way back".
Off is the direction I want you to truck he said.
Don't forget Wonder is the best kind of bread he said
You must be slow or just light in the head he said.
Yeah, whatever.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
My face blue
I race through
A misplaced zoo
Where disgrace grew
Into a mistake stew
Like the River Styx
Where people mix
Into a wall of bricks
That makes me sick
They steal my serenity
But when I look ahead of me
I see that I'll need them
To experience freedom
So I amass suitors
But I don't see them as sons or daughters
I see them as polluters
I see them as pirates and marauders
They see love as a doorway
To their own complacency
In order to see me more days
They take away my agency
Instead of aiding me
They start grading me
No longer elating me
They start deflating me
I shoot a missile
Of dismissal
Into the barricade
Of the bed I made
And keep sailing on
By flailing on
The floor
Begging for more
More people
More walls
Another sequel
Another fall
I have erected a maze
Where I've elected to graze
Deflecting their gaze
To enjoy wandering days
I experience happiness
Without their craftiness
But I begin to get lonely
My mouth starts foaming
I search to find ramparts
That can't part
Where landsharks
Eat the parked
Stuck searching
Perpetually perching
On the ledge
Of the wedge
Between myself and others
Looking for cover
I built protective walls
That became too tall
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Once upon a time,
I dare asked for preference on
Characters of fantasy.
I took a tally poll without mere thought
But then the deeply stored epiphany came later.
For if we are judging creatures of imagination then we must
Be grading stereotypes.
We gave each only a few characteristics
And in turn labeled our minds restrictive.
In the world of zombies and unicorns we can create anything we want.
In the realm of fantasy,
Everything and anything exist.
The question is unanswerable.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
in fifth grade, the boy submits a report on being stuck with his unborn brother’s teeth. the boy’s intent is to set himself apart and perhaps place a hard comma after the crush he has on his teacher. as the teacher reads the report she dreads that by its end she will become convinced and so stops halfway. she brings the report home and instead of grading it she daydreams about the sister she never had, that she surely ruined. by sixth grade, the boy lowers his blood at will into that handheld thing where resides his anger’s only foe.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Two Frenchmen,
One newly retired,
One still a few years out,
In high back leather chairs
Beside an empty fire place,
Guinness & coffee & conversation
To bring closure,
And to think how to begin again....
"I'm burned out!"
Mssr. Rivere declares,
"Away with books;
Away with the horn!"
He says, and I can tell,
That he feels worn.
Is this how we come to our ends;
Spent in years and worn of halls,
Chalk and marker memories,
And the clattering of chairs....
Old opening lines, closing remarks,
Grading done and logged,
And now it's out we're turned
To walk upon the parks,
Once quicker steps now trudging
Up and down the eternal stairs?
Memories' mellowed now,
And sometimes failing;
Shall we go sadly sighing,
Or do we go out flailing?
At these crossroads,
Care-worn teachers,
Revert to old philosophy,
To faith, and to our friends...
Ancient lines to lead us
Too soon to be old men....
Must look all ways, we,
Then venture out again
To see what lies beyond
The pasts we leave behind;
Take pause this afternoon
Upon the marge
Of journeys new
We must begin.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Evenings a lovable sensitive thang.
Opting to pass usual good morning greetings as some sang.
Skipping morning bits.. rushing into the afternoon.
She welcomed the mid day
Knowing with it a smile was on the way.
She allowed early evening to greet letting things bloom.
Working away late evenings as sleepy eyes rang.
Conversations a quick cute head nodding overhang.
Good nights are like lullabies of verbal hugs sangs.
Wasted evenings are snatching from beneath feet taken for granted rugs.
All to start another night in shimmering thoughtful plights.
Tugging away ribbons in flights.
Meaningful minds quietly dreamin.
As others may be secretly scheming.
Attentions paid to faded good morning hello's.
With hollow tones from yesterdays grading zero's.
Wash rinse and repeating..
Behaviors seems to be overwhelming.
Creativity craves new feelings.
Rare moments seems to be fleeting.
Evenings are acceptable, noondays are welcoming,
as are the rushing of mornings.
selinasharday rosePoet s.a.m 2019-5-1
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 8:28 AM UTC
Her backbone is a long stretch of American western highway
I trace my fingers eastbound/westbound across the slats of her ribs
pressed against the skin ready to pop
She left southside Midlothian Virginia as soon as she was old enough to make her own bad decisions
sick of being looked at
eyes grading like the big fat red D's stamped on her math homework
She left by foot
bus
plain
train
that grey jetta with the scratch down the passenger side from where she parked too close to that ugly Subaru
she left me
but she needed to breathe some air that wasn't stale with mediocre pretension and the frat house odor of stale beer and sawdust
so run wild
fly free
may your lips utter cliches without fear of derision
go make your life an incredible story
beautiful
ugly
hard to look at
can't look away
make your life a story
and I'll record it
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
Social introverts and a shy extroverts.
Dyslectics grading better in spelling.
Deaf children who know more words.
People with anxiety better at selling.
Kids with ADHD who are more calm.
Autistics who can relate better.
Paralysed people able to feel their palm.
A blind person ready to read every letter.
Who could guess their equality.
Could you imagine, you can't tell 'em appart?
Who could even think of such a society.
Just look at this, humanity's piece of art!
Who could imagine I'm one of ''them''.
One alike you and the rest of this place.
For we all are a different kind of gem.
All shining in our own simple grace.
If there's a ''them'' and there's an ''us''.
But none can tell one from another.
Is there a ''them'' at all, thus.
Then why a ''them'', it's only a bother.
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
The desk was half submerged in a lake of papers.
She felt so adult, being invited for coffee.
But get outta here. With your remarkable eyes and.. WEDDING RING
The question hung invisibly in the air.
What does that mean, coffee? Have you ever felt like you were missing some obvious sign-signal? Why does he want to have coffee with ME?” Lisa asked herself.
He isn’t the first guy to hit on her but he’s a professor.
WAS he hitting on her?
Her sex-dar said he was hitting on her.
“Sorry, I, I can’t.” she said as her mind searched for context.
She thinks: What if I make him mad - and he decides he doesn’t like me anymore?
Wait, does he like me NOW - or am I just another of a million students he’s taught?
Am I making a thing out of nothing? Am I being fractious?
Maybe coffee means coffee?
She has a hundred thoughts in a millisecond.
“Why not?” he asks, not looking up and marking some student’s paper with a red pin.
“I’m busy with humdrum deadlines,” she said, wondering if that even made sense.
He looks up and chuckles, “No problem.” He says with a smile, then he returns to grading.
After a second she turns and goes.
“I need to find Anais,” she thinks, reaching for her phone.
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 10:44 PM UTC
If I could say what I was thinking, the world would be so different
To the girl I smile at every day in the hallway
*heard you're not a ****** Little ****
To the abandoned little puppy that makes me "sad" on my way home from school
*got no where to go? ***** to **** ***** mutt*
To the teacher that whose class I graciously received a 90 when I deserved 100
I see you're dealing with your low self esteem and home problems by unfair grading
To my friend whos dress I say I love
that's the worst dress I've ever seen. You're wearing rags that are fading
To the boy I wave at smoking on the corner
haha you're so dumb. I'll love to see you smoke yourself sick
To the kid I said I'd go to prom with
*why should I go with you? You're such a little *****
To the woman with all the insecurities
hmm if I looked like you I'd be insecure too
To the people who try to stop me from these rants
all I have to say is F---- you
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
Grading curves....
Wrongly ruptured neurological nerves.
Condemned by societal hate,
his fluctuating brain synapses tend to create
vicious, malicious and practitious acts
that gravitate to attack the faith
in every church enlisted in every homestead household.
Retaliation puts him in a chokehold.
A headlock, a leglock, a deadlock of the mind
consciousness revoked, the button is broke
vain attempts to find rewind.
Press Pause.
Bask in his murderous glory,
the bodies of the converted; epitome of gory.
Bloodshed because god is dead claimed Nietzche
He kills all his idols and struggles to think freely.
You see the doctors had his mind locked in a cage,
they built the bars since he was at an illiterate stage.
They taught him how to act, then how to think,
a mindless drone choked cause they revoked the power to speak-
toungue in cheek, they'll chop off your arm just to make sure
nothing's hiding up the sleeve
and questioning authority's their biggest pet peeve.
But enough is enough...I CHOOSE WHAT TO BELIEVE...
Drop my textbook, throw my desk, and through those
guidance doors I leave.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
what is the benchmark or minimum
for telling someone, "i love you,"?
how many i miss yous
and i wish you were heres are enough,
even minutes after parting?
whatever the number is, **** it.
because my heart remembers to beat
and even attempts to soar with you
to heights new, unfound, unseen.
where the chittering of nearby birds
is both foreign and kind comfort
in our hands;
where oranges and strawberries grow
in tandem, vine over vine, root over root,
and fall into us, sweet and kind and lovely.
if i were to say it too soon, i'm afraid
i'd lose you, your wit, your smile,
dumb jokes and blazing blue eyes.
and by withholding, i risk combustion,
and an end to it all the same.
i love you.
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:39 PM UTC
Away from the ways mapped to shackle slaves
outside of the sign through the door
as you search and search you find answers more
in a distinct distant distance as you become indistinct
you soon find that you exist
you soon find that you live outside or beyond matter
...
Constricted by the golden ring
you feel the strength of the serpent
you learn of its trickery and deception
You soon begin to see that you are beyond these things
as leaves fall from trees
flying away into the wonder
searching for shade, finding it under
the azure pompous cloud
...
That you too as the leaves wish to know more about the tree
away from these things,
civilization and doctrine
you find the true Laws of Creation
That you are one in the many of The One
The more you separate yourself from the Universe
you learn just who or what it is that composes the Verse
It is at this time that you will see through the prism
The Prism of One
Serving none but the balance of the sum
Judging none but healing some
Making mundane creation fun
A keyboardist or guitarist who would masterfully strum
Sounding the bells of the temples that have souls come
come to place where music is not ever undone
The selves of one self soon multiply
The spine keeps one supine
we crawl, walk, run and soon learn to fly
defying the laws of aviation leaving scientists unable to concoct a reason why
A life a life of lives, gravitating to higher levels of Consciousness
A student grading earning graduation
Evolution of the mind where thought and heart are intertwined
The prism in itself of itself revealing its face to its selves
The dawning of wisdom and liberty
where all answers will be revealed
and all dark forces healed
where death will be a stepping stone as we teleport
when we soon learn of home
Where we will be learned of how we ruined it all
When the all or many becomes the One,
and the prism sleeps
until creation of a different order is softly sung.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
The first time you said it, it was raining.
I'd just taken my final, and had that sick, certain feeling that I'd failed it.
We were standing by your car and somewhere in the
midst of my rant about unfair grading practices,
and sexist Psych professors...
You. Just. Said it.
And all I could think was,
I wonder when grades will be posted?
The next time, we were sitting on my couch.
We had just finished dinner and were watching some old movie.
I remember Jimmy Stewart's voice distinctly,
So I know I picked the movie.
You were tickling me, and right in that moment when I lose all control
and give in to the giggles...
You said it again, mostly to yourself, but I heard.
And all I could think was,
I wonder if Jimmy Stewart was ticklish?
The last time, we were eating Italian.
I had gotten marinara sauce on my favorite blue dress,
and as I was trying to get it out, I spilled my water everywhere.
You just laughed that booming laugh of yours,
and then your eyes got dark, serious.
You took my hands in yours and watching my face closely,
you said it again.
And all I could think was,
I wonder if lemon juice will lift this stain?
The only time I said it, was on a Thursday.
Lunch had just ended and we were standing by the swings.
It was really windy so you pushed my hair out of my face.
That's when I almost said it,
but you started to speak.
I just smiled.
My smile must have hurt you,
because you looked away when you told me we wanted different things.
And I didn't say anything.
Instead, I watched you walk back towards the white brick building.
When you were almost there, you paused and started to turn back to me...
then stopped yourself and went inside.
And in that moment, when you were safely out of my reach,
I said it.
Because it was all I could feel since the day that we started.
No one ever heard me,
*but I love you, too.*
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
I wish I could live in the same house
As my brothers and my little sisters
I wish I could sleep under the same roof
As my family does
I wish the same shingles that cover my birth giver
And the same blankets that cover my male parental unit
Covered me
I wish.
But, there are a few things that come between
The intentional emotional detachment
The loving abusive comments
The lying, aggression and confrontation, those definitely factor in
But you know when God closes a door he opens a window
But when you don't have a door to lock and hide behind, God can't close it.
But the creepy old man
Who's touched me
And tried to touch me
The way my mouth taste like metal when I bite my tongue to keep from screaming in fustration
The way my body freezes as his claws dig into my leg
The way my mind breaks down like crumbs of a cookie
That is to much to bear.
I have a question.
?.
When you got your Daddy card did you skip over the fine print? Did you forget your glasses so that you couldn't read? Did you just skim over it to fast so that it didn't register? You know, the part where it says protection?
Provision. You got that down pat. No doubt about it. But I mean 50%? That's not a pass by any grading system.
Daughter.
It slips off the end of my tongue and tries to crawl back in. So many times have I had to retreat within myself because I was not under your wings.
Do I love you? Yes.
Do I trust you? Not with a spoon.
Not with my heart, not with myself.
Does that sadden my soul? Oh Lord does it ever.
I wish it was another way.
I wish I could live in your house.
But a house of hell is not one I can call home.
-Xoxo
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
So peaceful and calm
before the lights are turned on
then students arrive.
Class is almost done
student raises hand and yells
"What are we doing?"
Students focused, calm
intent on learning, thinking
someone else's class
Bell rings, students leave
room in disarray - teacher
exhausted, drained
correcting, grading
while family watches movie
while eating, sleeping
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 3:09 PM UTC
Nothing about it
makes any sense,
the way she puts me
on the fence.
Arbitrary grading
masquerading beneath
the facade of a rubric,
it's ********
and I'll prove it.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
Well you should be grading your exam today
so you know what I did wrong
and you don't have a problem
you can get it together
and I have no way of you going up with me
you know what you did
too well I thought
I had too many things I didn't do
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
I was so nervous when I enrolled for college.
The thought of moving out and living on my own terrified me.
So on my first day of class,
There really were butterflies in my stomach.
I walked into class about 10 minutes early.
Better early than late.
Alone I sat in the front row.
Other students trickled in slowly.
There were 17 of us total.
Finally, the professor walked in.
And I was sure glad that he did…
Mr. Professor was no doubt the most attractive man I had ever seen.
He had messy, mousy brown hair that fell loosely over his eyes.
He had a strange, crooked mouth that easily curled up into a smile.
His eyes were strange…
One was a light, minty green-grey.
The other was a brown that was the color of Root-Beer.
And his voice…
It was relatively high for a man.
But it sounded perfect.
When he was reading the class syllabus,
I didn’t comprehend a word he said.
I wanted him to notice me.
So I raised my hand and asked questions.
Questions about the future,
The grading system,
Big projects,
Everything and Anything.
Mr. Professor definitely noticed me.
Mission accomplished.
I literally did everything to get him to like me.
I dressed exceptionally well for class.
All of my homework was done perfectly.
An A+ student.
But at the end of the trimester,
I realized that none of my insane fantasies could come true.
He is my teacher.
But that never stopped me from loving him.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
The clock ticks and ticks
The seconds, minutes, hours pass
The clock looks down from it's perch on the wall
The heart questions its validity
And sighs.
The body grows and prospers
The thought of degenerating, down-grading persists
The body takes itself in and wants to embrace the only moments it has
The brain becomes distracted and lost in its own perception
And sighs.
The Earth, the only planet where love is known to exist
The clock has no jurisdiction over it
The Earth, in all its cosmic glory and all-knowingness
The body, such a sin to let it rot from the inside out,
Sighs.
The clock, the body, the brain, the heart, the Earth
The ticking, the rotting, the thinking, the sighing, the all-knowing
The clock measures the body, and the body, the Earth
The Earth, with no heart or brain of its own, spins unworried
Yet sighs.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
We sit awaiting in the cool
thoughts of anything but school
counting, grading each new wave
boogie boarding is the rave.
Ben and Mike stroll toward the action
Me, I sit here like in traction.
Throwing pebbles toward the sea,
Me, I write these words of glee.
Strangers stop and tell the boys
‘bout jellyfish they will enjoy.
Just walk a piece to yonder shore
to open up adventure’s door.
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 2:27 PM UTC