3 Class Room Poems

1
Poem written during English Class


None can comprehend what speaks this man.
Old and crumbling he and so his voice.
Glasses magnify his insect eyes.
Who will dare predict the day he dies?
Such a day would surely bring us peace.
Classes off! A sense of sweet release.
Chaucer in his grave will then be pleased.

Tiger-like, he’s quick to shed his age to
Blast upon a girl who did not know to
Fake the fact: she really did not know!
Did he just now grab a nippley boy?!
Turn him into his voluptuous toy?!
Act like imbeciles in front of us,
Men of age, do tend to lose their sense…


2
Poem written during Psychology Class

If I could fade away and not be seen
And go to sleep right here upon this bench,
That marks the farthest point where I can be,
As far away from her obnoxious face
As possible, while still attending class,
(Attendance is compulsory for me)
I would be glad and thank my Lord for it.
I rather wish that I could be asleep...
This class is truly equivalent to shit.
But such is life; I try to deal with it.
I can only barely hear her voice.
Thank God the fans are making so much noise.
These girls all look like Satan’s syphilis!
Devoid of boys, this class is quite the piss.

3
Another poem written In the class room.
I've yet to write a stupider last line.

Dull as a door knob, drooping eyes and all,
I let her gibberish wash all o’er my face.
I am a rock in the path of a crashing wave…
Apparently unchanged but slowly eroding.

How could her lectures be so damn boring?
The mind succumbs to her dreary onslaught
If I could leave right now, never to return
I don’ think t’would affect my ‘bility t' learn.