School Finals


Once again,
it is time,
to test what we've learned
all semester.

It's Finals at school.
school finals,
I have to study
and make good grades.

It's nerve wrecking for some
and others really don't care,
they blow it off,
and do how they please.

But for me,
you see,
that's really not an option.
I have to do well.

Mostly because I truly want
my mother to be proud of me,
but also because I need to get
into the best college that I can.

Finals at school!
Finals at school!
School finals!
School finals!

Got to study
so I can make the grade
so everyone is proud of me!

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The Bee

Alas has no space
Though a lot does
But no space for great-grandfather
Or the boy who thought there was

Which witch just said
It is bear and not bare
And with that
Their kid is crying over there

Remember pour, not poor
And flour, not flower
No flower for the poor girl
Who poured out the flour

Who’s minding whose business
It’s different than its
That apostrophe catastrophe
Took out little miss

There’s no saint like Saint John
Though there may be in May
But that capital notion
Just ruined his day

Now thinking about
Round pants for a clown
And ouch, now another one
Has fallen down

Ah but in victory
There’s a sweetness it seems
But oh, kid, be careful
That bee surely stings

Author's Notes/Comments: 

To Caleb, who endured twenty six rounds and brought home fourth place! I’m very proud of you!

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Do You Know What Stupid Looks Like?

Do you know what stupid looks like? I know. Stupid are the red tights with a hole in the knee and the brown mary-janes scuffed at the toe. Stupid is a red, green and blue plaid skirt with a white shirt and a red sweater. Stupid is mousey ginger hair, cut short like a boy’s and stupid is the name at the top of my paper...especially the name at the top of my paper.

 I sat my desk, wishing I were home, while my teacher standing next to me, circled the letter a’s on my page. My name had two red circles in it now. Stupid.

“How many times do I have to tell you that a lowercase "a" has a straight stick? A straight stick! It does not have a tail on it. This whole page is wrong. Correct it.”

 I closed my eyes, clenched my fists and again wished for home.  Not the home in the apartment building where my 2 year old brother and I played outside. Not where my mother reminded me to stay by my brother. Not where Mrs. MacDonald shouted from her window on the third floor that she would tell my mother when I picked flowers or turned on the outside tap to put water in my bucket of dirt.

 Instead, I wished to be in a distant home, a memory fading fast. I tried to hold onto that memory, but it grew more faded and was hard to conjure up. But I remembered it that day, sitting at my desk, palms sweaty and my paper a mess from my eraser trying to rub out the tails on my lowercase a’s. This is what Stupid looks like.

 “Now, look at the mess of your paper.”  She picked it up.  Rip. Neatly in two, as if she had years of practice doing such things. Here’s a new page, start over.”

 My name first.  The S, neat, well rounded, Silent, Stubborn and trying to look Smart.  But ah, the lowercase "a" appears and with it that determined, little tail- only to bring on the full blown fury of the teacher. Wrenched out of my seat by the tip of my ear between her thumb and fore finger and there I am standing before the entire class at the blackboard. Chalk in hand, I am now to print a row of lowercase a's for all to see. This is what Stupid looks like.

 My memory, where is it? It’s all I have. Her hands always smelled like lavender, her voice soft, with well rounded vowels and most definitely there was a tail on her a’s.  I could see my Grandma, in her garden, clipping roses, laughing and saying my name differently. “Sandra” then sounded “Saundra.” It sounded Smart, not Stupid. She was thousands of miles away in England and I was away from her.

All eyes were snickering when the teacher nearly blew another gasket. I looked at the board, there in the middle of my row of neat little a’s, made all with sticks, I had made a tail. I looked at the offending tail on the a, smiled to myself and turned towards the teacher, solemn eyed.

“That’s how my Grandma writes her a’s in her letters she sends me. I like them that way.”

“Well, your grandmother is wrong. You’ll write out a sheet of a’s for homework tonight.”

 Stupid, I thought. My teacher is stupid…

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I lie awake at two AM

Tired as the day seems long

Yet, quite restless, I am


I know in a few hours time

I shall have to be at school

And then, even more, shall I whine


But for now sleep is unfathomable

To lie still in bed long enough to sleep

Sadly enough, I am not able


I wish I were for the hours pass

At, seemingly, a much higher pace

Than if I lie awake counting minutes past


Yawing, I do quite often

It is a sign of needed sleep

Maybe I shall try counting dolphins



Written on

April 23, 2001 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was one I wrote late at night because I couldnt sleep.

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Poems 2010

Sitting here bored
I listen to her talk
My work is done
But not the essay

Class should be over
For we are all ready
To pack our bags
And head on home

But this wont happen
Till the bell rings
Or till Ms. Versley
Says we can leave

And till that time
I may take a nap
As she rambles
On and on and on

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this in class today while my teacher kept talking on and on and on about things I, and the others at my table, already seem to understand.I tried to go five syllables in one line then four in the next. I can';t remember what kind of poem it would be called so, whatever, lol. But all of them are like that but line #8 where it is four syllables and not five.
Hope you all enjoy it

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Words of great values and virtual elements,

Words that bring joy and strong encouragement.

Words that are humble and yet so powerful,

Words that are outspoken, but never painful.

Words of understanding and words of care,

Words that show patience and surely never dare.

Words that enlighten and help build dreams,

Not words of blame, pity, and criticisms…

These are indeed,

What we really need,

Words to be SHARED


Author's Notes/Comments: 

~(c) jerlin
Written and published in my high school paper- F.S. Gazette 1996. Got that rebellious spirit up! :)

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Key, The


Roaming through the field I found a little key

It was just as though someone had left it there for me

A little slip of paper was laying there nearby

The writing on it was what caught my eye

It said I'll love you forever if you bring my key

And show me that you have it and be really nice to me

I'm an angel and you can't be mad or shout

Or I'll take back my key and throw your dumb ass out.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Feelin Froggy

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Hitting the Mathematical Wall

(after Robert Frost)

Something there is that doesn't love the math,

That sends the frozen needles under skin,

That numbs the skull and stultifies the brain

Before the joy of math discovery begins

Comes sheer torment of quadratic functions--

And who can blame those poor souls that can't add

Two simple fractions or multiply

Signed numbers?--

For there is no reason they can't pass

Remedial math courses with a D

And join the mindless workforce

Of their peers,

Who care not for square roots or logs,

Nor volumes of some pyramids or spheres--

No, they want none of it

In their beer-filled dream,

In their dull and repetitious slumber,

Where there is no x, and no why--

No solution to their life's equation

Which drags itself each day until they die

And take this time a permanent vacation.

Something there is that doesn't love the math,

That wants all numbers and all symbols down,

And lonely is a math instructor's path--

Misunderstood and treated like a clown

By those who care not for what she says.

Gone is the beauty of geometry and space,

The golden ratio and isosceles triangles--

There is just this massive wall above her head,

Where ignorance prevails and knowledge's dead--

Where there are no more questions,

No more numbers,

There is just this nothingness,

Where there's nothing to be said,

Where all the search and all the discourse ends.

            May 30, 2009


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My mind is leaving my brain

It's as cloudy as smoke from a train

Since high school has been out

I've been off the educational route

I yearn for an essay to write

I wouldn't care if it takes all night

Give me some logic problems to solve

My thoughts and dreams need to evolve

I wish I had money to spend

So education the college would lend

Learning material is what I need

From it my brain would feed

Author's Notes/Comments: 

April 23, 2005

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