something new is waiting for me
and I'm running to it
i'v been running
and i will be
far away
they take me for granted, I feel ignored and small
Six live in this house, and no one thanks me at all
they use me every day, I am imperative to them
They slam my door and give me a headache; I’m Jim.
I keep their food cold, my freezer keeps them healthy too.
They have allowed me to get filthy, I am full of sticky goo.
When was the last time someone washed me? I really don’t know.
The little ones sometimes stand inside on my edge, hurting my toe.
I am tired of this treatment, would run away if I could to the moors.
I snicker a bit, thinking about how this would feel to these boors.
Twenty years I have been here, keeping their milk ready to drink.
I am not alone in these thoughts, ask the oven and the sink.
Presumably assuming,
Presents peculiar perspectives,
Within our collective,
As a selective few move through,
Unabated,
Unafraid of the path laid before them,
Restoring glory to an old story,
As we climb assuming the truth,
Teaching our youth what's true,
Sharing the beauty of the view
As we stew the pot,
It's getting hot and ready to boil,
The soil ripe for sowing,
As we keep growing as a whole,
Giving love the control,
Governing our own soul,
Presumably assuming the best,
We have passed the test,
You guessed it,
I'm talking about you,
I assume you already knew,
Just what you came to do.
Consent covered by deceit,
Would be nice if I could retreat.
Instead of being beat,
By an unseen enemy.
Our world run like a company,
So many tired and dying.
They're trying to kill us,
Training us to cuss.
Hustling through the bustle,
The food poisoning our muscles.
As we hustle through the bustle,
Ads rustle threw our mind,
Leaving only dirt to find.
While hiding behind the light,
They're playing with our sight.
Most are too weak to fight,
This just isn't right.
When will the night end,
And time bend,
So my heart can mend.
You're my only friend,
Who can heal this land.
I demand Justice,
Because I can,
Come help my fellow man.
Faded Poet's Voice
Dr Ranjit Futta
My friend's poetic voice
Now in a distant home.
The lines that danced once
With rhythm and rhymes,
Echoes of memories,lost in time.
In cyberspace, a void is found
The poet's words are being lost.
Without a sound
My friend's creations by the walking time have
gone astray,
A poetic soul lost in disarray
And the words now become sloglans.
The poet's voice
Leaves now emptiness
That cannot be bound.
His words evoking in me
A sense of nostalgia,
pointing to the fragility of
Digital existence and enduring
The power of art.
i am drained
i am burnt out
i have drount
i am fryed
i have cried
i have screamed
i have tried
i have failed
i have wailed
I am pained
I am DRAINED
Shadows Sharing Fruit,
My reflection changes my world,
When I move towards the light I see inside,
Shining bright,
Hiding in the shadows,
My tree grows dense,
My experience holds fruits,
Soothing to the soul.
You canlet go of control,
Roll with the flow,
Joy growing as you go,
Casting a shadow,
Sharing fruit with those below,
And now that they know,
New shoots start to show,
As their world begins to grow,
To the reflection,
They're projecting,
In this wonderful show.
The breast of the Carolina wren sighs,
and the tinge of autumn glorifies the
silent beauty of his engraved name on
marble and granite,
a tribute to the youth bridegroom
known for the cherish of his gleaming
love he had in life.
A cascading veil of lace,
white roses,
teardrops,
a pall cast over his bride and
nuptial guests.
Hail him, with his heart that had
goodness, generosity, and joy.
The bridegroom died on his
wedding morn.
In a passage of mortal to eternal,
the sparrows dedicate sorrow in
autumnal songs to him.
His betrothed stands in the grass,
her groom, her love, in
September’s embrace,
In the mourning fields.
North Carolina bereavement is
everlasting,
in her mountains of gold and
crimson,
her Piedmont, her coast.
Such lament aflame-
unbridled in its pain.
Our paean rings of his song,
his tragic journey to join the Lord
and His angels,
as the mist shrouds envelop
his bride,
in the mourning fields. ~
hedgehogs, happy birthday hats and hamsters have a holiday
having hand-held hoes has highlighted Harry’s heavy Hanover hay
hellacious heavy thunderstorms hasten the hedgehogs away
leaving birthday hats and hamsters, who happily decide to stay.
big balloon-like bouncy Barney B. bear
Came out of the bushes from practically no where
His nose had led him straight to this buzzing bee hive
He hesitated a few minutes when he counted thirty-five
The bees are in a tizzy, he thought, who stirred them up?
Did he have his bee suit? No. It was being let out by Buttercup
Buttercup was Barney’s bubbly, bounteously beautiful wife.
Barney dove into the bees for honey, for he only had one life.
fourth of July T-rex was carrying fireworks for the park
They would all be lit in a specific order after it got dark
People were seated on blankets, whispering about this lark.
Luckily, they did not see T-rex, as the park was so dark.
come meet the greatest cereal of all time said the Moon
It was noisy as a tornado, storm, hurricane or sonic boom
Made lovely noises, which were over way too soon
The name was appropriate – Snap Crackle and Boom
this must be a USA cereal, a foreigner said to me.
Oh yes, I agreed, as he finger pointed out on his cup of tea
It is one of the things that make us great, but it is not free
there is a tariff on it, so it now costs more than any utility.
kraken bagged his first clipper ship on a Monday afternoon.
I love the feel of it in the bag, he told his cousin Swoon.
Swoon thought that keeping a ship in a bag was bad luck.
He asked how the creatures would breathe, but
Kraken did not give a gut
highland bull came to us on a lovely spring day
we could tell by his high kicks he was ready to play
a pink butterfly with plethora of dots futtered his way
He was not shy in giving her a “hey, hey, hey, hey!”
Wondered if he had wandered from the Meadows in Bray
Had no idea how to get him back there that day
A full schedule meant he would have to stay and play
We did give him feed, and a soft pace to lay
The pallet we made him was filled with the softest hay
Not his fault he is lost, said my cousin Lucie McKay
When we returned from work, he had meandered away
We were thrilled we had a Highland Bull for almost a day
the desserts were bragging they had stolen my tooth
It was cake and ice cream, both hailed from Duluth
They were obscene, bragging with outrageous smiles
I wanted them to go away, at least a hundred miles
I knew they had taken other teeth from me too
I had lost several to cavities, and it made me blue
The desserts were boasting they had stolen from me
I wanted them to fall off the edge and end up in the sea
Specific Types of 7Th Grade Poems
Definition | What is 7Th Grade in Poetry?
Poems Related to 7Th Grade
12th grade, 11th grade, 10th grade, 9th grade, 8th grade, 6th grade, 5th grade, 4th grade, 3rd grade, 2nd grade, 1st grade, middle school, school