"schoolmates" poems
She knows she’s young
She’s lost her fun
In so little years
She’s filled with so many fears
Her momma scolds
Tells her she’s she got no hold
She sits and reads Matilda
Momma says to go out with her sister
She’s told she’s not pretty
She says she’s just a kid
They tell her without a boyfriend
She cannot play with them
She loves to Skip
She loves her toys
She just wants friendship
Doesn’t matter with girls or with boys
And as sixth grade ends and she’s lost her friends Who are so eager to go and grow up
She decides to keep quietly to herself
Or else they’ll tell her to shut up
She loves being a kid
Still wants to play pretend
Doesn’t want to worry about makeup
Doesn’t want to worry about growth
Doesn’t want to style her hair, just wants to keep it short
Told she looks like a boy but she likes being different
Doesn’t want to be irreverent
She still feels like she’s eleven
And just wants to keep on shining
Wants to keep looking at the world as amazing
She doesn’t know what to do
She loves a man who’s 22
She knows she is much too young
And knows he thinks of her as young and dumb
He gives her a smile and walks on by
He calls her a “Pop **** and gives her a high five
She dreams 10 years going by
When she’s allowed to be in his life
But she thinks then he’ll have a wife
And she’ll just dream of being the lonely bride
Will she have another chance
Was this her only shot?
She wonders what high school will be like
Will she be able to have another start?
She still wishes to make her mama proud
But she just wants a well primed child
She couldn’t be a beauty queen
And couldn’t dance or sing
She just likes to climb trees and read
And she still wants that into her teens
For this little twelve year old girl
Life was a nonstop whirl
The days go by too fast
She feels pretty soon she’ll be looking her last
As all her schoolmates gossip and change
She still wants to remain strange
She thinks about him everyday
And the days remain the same,
The same
She’s older
She’s getting older
She’s getting older and she wants to go back
She takes old pictures, puts them in order
So that she can always look back
Copyright © James Black |
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
231
God permits industrious Angels—
Afternoons—to play—
I met one—forgot my Schoolmates—
All—for Him—straightway—
God calls home—the Angels—promptly—
At the Setting Sun—
I missed mine—how dreary—Marbles—
After playing Crown!
3.3k
We're not classmates anymore,
But schoolmates.
I have always wondered if I'll have feelings for someone new who is my classmate,
Since we won't always see each other at this rate.
I have this classmate that could be a good candidate,
Tall, cute and fair.
I asked myself, "could this be it?"
But I didn't have any feelings yet.
Dismissal, it was eight past three,
I saw you sitting near the gate.
I got nervous, is this fate?
You looked at me, pointed and smiled.
I missed that, isn't this great?
It felt like you answered my question ealier.
Looks like you'll still be stuck here in my heart and no one else,
But we'll see.
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 9:20 AM UTC
I was taught to add and subtract at the age of four. My twenty year old mother would sit me down on the grass while waiting for my aunt to get out of high school, and teach me my numbers on her big, scarred hands. I was five when I realized something that would change me for the rest of my life. The number six and the number four are both just one away from being a solid five.
At six years old, my classmate and I were given our daily snacks. My friend had gotten six crackers, while I got four. I asked, “may I have a ******* She reminded me that I had already gotten my napkin-full of crackers. “But if you give me one, we will both have five.” She bugged her eyes at me.
“I wanna have more,” she said. I shook my head at her, and ate my four crackers.
I wanted to participate in my elementary school’s food drive when I was ten years old, and in fifth grade. I was motivated to make a change for families in need of canned food. When I went home and asked my mom for cans, she explained to me that the cans that my schoolmates were donating would probably end up in our pantry, because we get our food from the local foodbank. I looked up at our pantry. I saw some dusty cans in the back that hadn’t been touched, and multiple cans next to them. I then remembered when we didn’t have even one can, and thought of the families who didn’t have even one can right then. And then I thought: But we have six, and they have four...
A homeless man and I both had five the day I bought him a sandwich when I was fourteen.
My best friend had four when she was sexually abused, and I gave up one when I shoved past the school security guards and got her to the hospital at the age of fifteen.
The year I turned sixteen I figured I had six when I realized there was an unfairness at my school. I gave my fellow students one when I convinced the principal to make a change about it, after being sent to him for disturbing the class with my speech.
I gave up one of my six when I turned seventeen and wrote the inspiring story of my brother’s car crash, for all of the people with four in their broken hearts.
As long as I have six, I will continue to give one. I won’t stop until everyone has five, and the world is one big ten.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
The importance of maintaining balance,
in so much as sanity's building blocks.
A personal reflection of your highs and lows, each helpful for creative growth. Some stick around, as others come in flux.
Historically fixed in a similar headspace,
their presence placed for short or long.
We offer grace to those who help us, listen, laugh or object against the angst and tell us to our face.
An overlay in the dreams we hold,
plus those past mistakes which are often made.
These altered goods, associated schoolmates, bands of buddies, compatriots in cousins, a smile from a chum.
All state a claim in the memories of us aiming to belong, like everyone.
Sep 13, 2021
Sep 13, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
I wish every now & then,
You could pinch me,
To make me feel real,
To make me believe,
That this is really my life.
I had been just been existing,
All happiness which was gone,
One significant event was fresh,
Both in my memory & my flesh,
It was just existing & not living,
I just had nothing positive left,
Everything wasn't just right.
Let Me Narrowly Narrate My Story
I was born the only child,
I grew up as a lonely child.
Parents are both working 9 to 6,
Parents barely had any time for me.
I spent hours alone talking to my toys,
I even talked to myself while playing,
I gave birth to my imaginary brother,
He wept when I cried complaining,
Everywhere the two of us were together,
I complained to him about mom-dad,
I complained about their shouting matches,
But my imaginary brother died,
He died with the basket of toys,
He was buried inside the basket of toys,
And the basket was given away as I grew up,
His favourite toy car was mine too.
I read in four high-schools & two colleges,
I missed my last set of buds only for a while,
Then I got busy with my newer schoolmates,
Forgotten was I by my previous schoolmates,
They were forgotten by me as well along time,
For days I missed them but not for a long time,
But when I stop to think I can't find a stability.
I finally reached college after finishing school,
I almost completed two years & met an accident,
I almost died but survived a 23-day long coma,
I spent a year isolated at home then recovering,
I prayed that time be kind & let me start college,
I came to know this from the previous college,
I had to then change my college in mid-course,
I had to abandon all my hard-earned friends,
I had to forget about the social service society,
The physical pain was little helpful distraction,
The mental agony from changes was greater.
Maybe bad luck is destined for me
This is what I used to think and move on,
But I met you and everything just changed,
And I love such sweet-ticklish soft changes,
Now I just want this change to stay lifelong,
Just like my accident scars & the birthmarks.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
Schoolmates I taunted, weaker than I.
The pain I suffered, I shed on them.
But now reminded, their pain is mine.
Memories of youth have become my enemy.
The spear is sharp.
The point pressed against my chest,
drawing nearer toward my heart.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
Yes, I am waiting for the cold,
for it is far too warm here as of late,
and this is not how it’s supposed to unfold.
I left home when I was not quite so old
and my choice they all berate.
But I am just waiting for the cold
as if this worry can be controlled,
with that which can inebriate.
Isn’t that how it’s supposed to unfold,
when often I see him and it takes hold?
Wishing I had the words to elaborate,
but he left me waiting in the cold.
It is a story that I rarely have told,
for to him I am the true expatriate.
This is the way it’s supposed to unfold
though its unclear if I could have foretold,
that we would be two separate schoolmates?
On this day, I am still here, waiting on the cold
to freeze the warmth that should not still unfold
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
There are times
When I wish I could be a child again
Because, as far as adulthood is concerned
There is a lot of pressure and expectations
And many complications as well
Work, relationships, time, money, health
The list is endless
Also, let us not forget
That I am a divorcee
And yearning for a second marriage
Or at least, some kind of romantic relationship
And at the same time
I have to deal with work as well
Anyway, I wish I could be a child again
Because my childhood was awesome
Lots of love
From my family, cousins and relatives
Playing cricket with one of my close cousins
Going on train trips with family
Having fun with schoolmates
Including enacting the part of a Japanese anime princess!!
Playing chess with my maternal grandfather
Watching the golden era of Sachin Tendulkar
Listening to AR Rahman classics
Watching the best movies of Superstar Rajinikanth
Playing tennis with my father
During my second visit to Mumbai
And best of all
Having a life free of tension and worries
Except of course, as far as studies were concerned!!
Well, there were bad times too
For instance, the bullying I faced
Which forced me to leave a renown school
In the span of just one week!!
Nevertheless, on the whole
My childhood is something to be cherished forever
And reflecting back on it as an adult
I am filled with a sense of nostalgia
Being a Potterhead, I wish I could use a Time Turner
And go back in time
In order to revisit all those fond memories in person
Yes, I am not ashamed to say
That I wish I could be a child again
Jul 8, 2023
Jul 8, 2023 at 12:09 AM UTC
Any advice on how to tell them so they'll freak out less?
Or should I not?
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
He said being an *******
is okay when you're a genius
later emerging as the
soul of corporate culture
As a boy
he was a mongrel dog
forcing schoolmates to kiss
statues' bare buttocks
This child grew into
the man who now
stands before
a sea of toddlers
asking him “what is
The Good?”
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
So it's Thursday morning
I'm lying on my bed
And with my phone between my hands
I try to get a new high score on the new game
You know the one- that one with a bird?
Yeah, that one.
My carpet is completely covered
In confetti of various shapes and sizes
Different colours, different smells
I really need to vacuum
But I'm comfortable right here
Oh look! One hundred points already!
Mom keeps telling me to get a job
Her reminders are like *****
Never ending and numbing my brain
But I'm comfortable laying on my bed
Woah, one hour gone already!
Where does time go?
So is it true that everything came from nothing
That there was one massive explosion?
Did someone put us all here
Like the universe is one big jigsaw?
Five hundred points!
I'm getting good at this.
I wonder what my old schoolmates are doing
I heard some got scholarships in America
A couple went to university
While a bunch are in prison
A thousand points!
I should tweet about this.
The church bell in the distance strikes twelve
I wonder what I am doing here
I feel like my life is like a pencil without lead
Where am I going?
Dang! Game over. Oh well, I'll try again later.
My phone's out of battery.
I see the pile of college assignments on my desk
I get up and go make lunch.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
March 2008
I found my legs shaking
trembling before my schoolmates
somewhere
I hid it under the table, under the first
bottle of Generoso, yes, so local you puke with hate
There with me is the formidable lesbian
I fell so badly in love with back then
at first I knew coming along was a bad idea
but let me tell you, first times are as fickle
as those ******* your **** got used to
and yeah, the first drink of the grape
straightened my frightened legs
gave me courage
but no, it’s not what you think it is
I snubbed her all the way
that is right
after she got a little bit tipsy in the middle
and told me how she’s gonna tell her
big brother that she’s gonna get herself
a boy friend
and more fellow schoolmates came
most of them look up to irrelevant
people like Tupac, Snoop and whoever
it is that can speak fast on drugs.
we reached the denouement
of the unplanned gathering
I wasn’t able to handle myself
for I was ******* everyone off.
three of them even tried to gang up on me
but the tides sided with me
as Deo who almost died last year
sent me home.
my father was so ******* furious
when he first saw, smelled and heard
his son drunk
it was a replica in progress.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
So I sat there
with my group of girls
Girlfriends
We talked
We laughed
At everyone around
Just friends
The program ends
Enough listening for a day
Cheering for schoolmates
and laughing at
******** friends
Surrounded only by girls
in school
everything freezes for a moment
when some random guy comes up saying you are pretty
Not at me
Not at her
But at Her
Blushes sweetly
Tries to act normally
Accept it
It was a little quirky
In his blue shirt and pants
he looked like an alien from a foreign land
We all laugh
Looking like we were being tickled
by some invisible hands
I mean come on
how do we react to this
Hello sweetie
say my friends
This is common
in schools
with students
all high on hormones
Let's all have a good laugh
go home, bury ourselves in baths
and continue with our lives
and all the business in our hives
Sounded legit
And that was exactly what I did
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
A boy goes to school
And tears his schoolmates apart
With metal piercing bullets
This is normal now.
Igor Goldkind
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy Michael Burch
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.
I wonder how
he learned at all . . .
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates’ necks.
He played with pasty Elmer’s glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!).
He earned the nickname—“teacher’s PEST.”
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer’s glue . . .
and you’ll outgrow this old desk, too.
Published by: TALESetc, A Bouquet of Poems (for children of all ages), Better Than Starbucks. Keywords/Tags: desk, school, spitwads, glue, teacher’s, pest, broke, golden rule, failed, test
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 5:55 AM UTC
jesus on the cross
my sister is sometimes obese. she has mild heart attacks in cramped third floor apartments. she gets beaten by schoolmates who impersonate hospital staff. I am always going to see her it seems when she is in someone else’s bed. it is to this thought she has recently clung.
jesus in the tomb
my sister keeps me from sleepwalking. she says I am her dream of being skinny. she has lost so much weight already I am almost too happy for her.
scripture that may one day represent scripture
we are able to buy food, but here’s the catch: we eat it.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
School day mittens with checkerboard frilly scarf , candy apple cheeks and glowing brown eyes , gathering with schoolmates for the morning bus ride ..
Snow boots leave glistening , wet impressions on late Winter frost , arms full with lunchbox and violin , waving cheerful goodbyes to proud Mother once again .. Cold gravel cracks beneath the yellow carriage , red brake lights at each farmhouse , further away with each stop , over the hill and gone ....
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
death is never early. take the first bite of every meal in front of a mirror. chase the kid while pulling a plastic bag over your head. invent a sibling schoolmates blind. know poverty, know moon. shampoo the elderly from a distance. baby no one. they have looked like hell since before you were born.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
(if Lin Manuel Miranda turned my Breakup into a Broadway Rap)
Ladies and gentlemen
Of the jury
I stand before you today
And surely
I hope that you understand
As I see
We have criminal amongst us
One who commited ****** in the first degree
A young man named Paul
Was slain in a Forrest
And as I recall
It was on the twenty-fourth of February
On a day when he was happy
And filled with merry
We have evidence to suggest he was not alone
You see
We found two cups in his car
One filled with coffee,
the other with tea
A few hours later two joggers went astray
Where they found the body all bled out
And about to decay
His heart ripped from his chest
Laying on the palm of his hand
(Defendant)
"Objection Your Honour"
(Lin)
I'll let the witness stand...
(Judge)
Does the defendant have any claims to what he states?
(Defendant)
Your honour, Mr. Paul and my client were in fact schoolmates.
Shared the same classes and friends,
there is no debate
But death was his very own ill-sighted fate.
For as I understand he knew this could happen
He knew it was a risk he'd have to take
Make no mistake
As far as I know he saw the hook
And still took the bait...
(Lin)
But your client forgot to mention
the promises that she made
She likes him
Trusts him
But, oops...she made a mistake
And in the middle of a gentle conversation sought,
Your client cuts open his chest
separating his heart
from his thought
And succeeded as it bleeded and all of his emotions retreated never to be repeated
(Serious*) Your honor SHE has murdered love!
(Judge)
How do you answer to these allegations?
(The accused)
"Guilty I am not"
(Lin)
But why are your hands still bloodstained from his heart?
Your honor we have spoken to a witness
And your Honor I Protest this,
I detest this
I will not let her play the victim
And have an innocent man to blame
For things she's done to have him framed
While his chest is wrapped with chains
Could we at least have her detained
(Defendant)
Objection!
(Judge)
Sustained!
(Lin)
Could we at least have her for questioning?
Cause the only way we'll move on is if we know
(Judge)
I'm sorry Paul...
But you'll just have to let this one go
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
have recently self-published a comprehensive selected work taken from the fourteen full-length, also self-published, collections of mine from years 2007-2014. the book has a title, the women you take from your brother, and is 351 pages. a PDF of the work will be sent to any making such a request of me at email [email protected]
link to the work is below, book preview is book entire:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/the-women-you-take-from-your-brother/hardcover/product-21758824.html
it includes work from the following publications-
the paper dolls have been cutting your hair
Grief Of Arm
Angel Scene
mating rituals of the responsibly poor
Ahistoric
Aggressive Kin
Hallelujah Lip-Synch
in the asylum we’d sun ourselves with angels
think hard on nothing on a farm machine
abandonesque
Stork Blood
town crier
We stole not the same bread
PLEA
sample poems:
lacuna
Ohio 1976 I was given a word. a helluva word. I went unborn. a word my mother swallowed. a troublesome word. nervosa sans pretext. my father slept until his sleep became self aware. he paced. then gave me his word. stood over me.
Ohio 2013 you ***** on my shadow in an abandoned building outside of which a pregnant woman bikes herself into a garage door and bloodies her nose between sound and horn.
the gospel
I lose the fat hero to thoughts of my own weight.
I make the bully too evil.
I shy from death
to be made
its lure.
I have a wife
board
what else
a train
to transport
the sadness
a *****
can’t.
my son
wonders
aloud
if all females
are mothers.
if animals, talk.
jesus on the cross
my sister is sometimes obese. she has mild heart attacks in cramped third floor apartments. she gets beaten by schoolmates who impersonate hospital staff. I am always going to see her it seems when she is in someone else’s bed. it is to this thought she has recently clung.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Dark draped and pliant as ink; resting on the pinpricks of stars and their steel pins.
Wrapping and bundling us in a pose of obstinance and theory; still alive but inert with the weight of nothingness.
Seeking and pulling into a container of black soup, the strength of fear was no match for sharing.
Once, a race began to meet on the other side of spatial creation; opposite but circling like sexed schoolmates on a crisp autumn day.
Time as full as galaxies and their grandchildren, never slowing to consummate a dream.
Air still beatable, vapor fogging the porthole of eternity to leave only a thought. Many thoughts in lineup, creating a community of ideas and filling the vessel with voice.
Moving, transcended outside into the film, looking back to the throng; mightily laughing at the joy of one.
Gulping stars like candy and dust from the crest of curling waves; removing the glue and melting into an orb of amniotic stew.
Knowing one, being one, as one.
I can sleep on my pillow of love and eternal travel.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
Playmates
by Michael R. Burch
WHEN you were my playmate and I was yours,
we spent endless hours with simple toys,
and the sorrows and cares of our indentured days
were uncomprehended . . . far, far away . . .
for the temptations and trials we had yet to face
were lost in the shadows of an unventured maze.
Then simple pleasures were easy to find
and if they cost us a little, we didn't mind;
for even a penny in a pocket back then
was one penny too many, a penny to spend.
Then feelings were feelings and love was just love,
not a strange, complex mystery to be understood;
while "sin" and "damnation" meant little to us,
since forbidden cookies were our only lusts!
Then we never worried about what we had,
and we were both sure—what was good, what was bad.
And we sometimes quarreled, but we didn't hate;
we seldom gave thought to the uncertainties of fate.
Hell, we seldom thought about the next day,
when tomorrow seemed hidden—adventures away.
Though sometimes we dreamed of adventures past,
and wondered, at times, why things couldn't last.
Still, we never worried about getting by,
and we didn't know that we were to die . . .
when we spent endless hours with simple toys,
and I was your playmate, and we were boys.
This is probably the poem that "made" me, because my high school English teacher called it "beautiful" and I took that to mean I was surely the Second Coming of Percy Bysshe Shelley! "Playmates" is the second poem I remember writing; I believe I was around 13 or 14 at the time. It was originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: playmates, boys, children, schoolmates, schoolboys, friendship, toys, playthings, fate, destiny, adventures, death, mortality
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
The first day I met you I never thought you will be craved in my heart forever.
The first phone call we shared was the weirdest but cutest of all the phone calls I had.
The first time you held my hand in front of all our schoolmates you also touched my heart until now.
I remember every single memories we shared.
Even that was 7 years ago. Even were not together anymore.
I remember every feeling you made me felt. All the laughter,pain,guilt,anger,sadness,greatness,profoundness,emptiness.
And I will never regret all of those. I actually regret I was afraid giving you more even I know I already gave everything I have.
I miss you. From the day I saw you for the first time. To the day you left my room for the last time and bid your goodbye. Forever.
#missing #hoping #loving #acceptance #poetry
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC