Middle School Poems I


Changing Classes


As soon as the bell rings,
students pour out the doors,
surging down the halls
shoving, jostling, dodging,
in a roar of voices.

Pushing forward, I weave
in, out, and among
a thousand others,
feeling as if
                  I'm swimming upstream. 


Which Lunch Table?

Where do I sit?
  All my friends
  from last year
  have changed;
  my world is
     f r a c t u r e d
     l o p s i d e d
     r e a r r a n g e d.

  Where do I fit?
  Nothing is clear.
  Can already tell
  this will be 
  a jigsaw year.


Sunday Night Meltdown

Suddenly remembering
(on Sunday night)
that I have homework
due Monday morning.

The end of my weekend,
like the end of a Popsicle:

instead of one last lick --
a taste of stick.



School Dance



(someone else’s parents!)

bobbing offbeat


pouring fizzling pink punch

into Styrofoam cups

(but not too much,

since they think we still spill).


Black lights glowing

headless T-shirts

with blue-white teeth.


Kori, Jaleesa, and I

hide in the bathroom,

giggling and glossing,


wondering if

anyone will ever

ask us to dance.





How are we so “different?”

If “different is just a thing.

If we all have certain features,

What does “different” bring?


People filled with hatred,

Can’t possibly see,

That there’s not really “differences”

Between you and me.


Looks can’t show “difference,”

If they’re just there to be seen.

If you don’t like someone else,

Why are they so mean?


If being “different” is what is wrong,

I’d rather not be right.

And I’d want to finish living,

Doing the “different” fight.



I'm sitting here right now,
Sitting at this table,
And thinking to myself,
So, why are there labels?

There’s so many labels,
I could name a few,
I'd be here all day,
So let me just name a few.

The preps are the highest,
They're like a football team,
Just gossiping around,
Planning their next scheme.

The jocks get the preps,
Supposedly cause they’re the best,
Its like an exam to me,
You have to pass the test.

The skaters tell themselves,
That’s what they do most of the time, skate,
They’re nothing to the preps,
Actually, I'm wrong, they’re the bait.

Then there are people who don't care,
That's where you will find me,
So I am begging you please,
Just let me be!

I didn't come here to be a label,
No, I don't skateboard or have the best tan,
But again I'm begging you,
Don't label me like a can!

I don't know why I'm begging you,
It's no one’s decision but mine,
So I'm asking you to step aside,
And just wait in line!

I don't care what people think,
I think my friends are cool,
They may not be popular or skate,
But they help me survive school.

So, I'm just sitting here thinking,
Of how others must pay,
For the mean rude things,
That some people say.



Homework! Oh, Homework!


Homework! Oh, homework!

I hate you! You stink!

I wish I could wash you

away in the sink,

if only a bomb

would explode you to bits.

Homework! Oh, homework!

You’re giving me fits.

I’d rather take baths

with a man-eating shark,

or wrestle a lion

alone in the dark,

eat spinach and liver,

pet ten porcupines,

than tackle the homework

my teacher assigns.


Homework! Oh, homework!

You’re last on my list,

I simply can’t see

why you even exist,

if you just disappeared

it would tickle me pink.

Homework! Oh, homework!

I hate you! You stink!