School Poems - Poems For School

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First Day At School - Poem by Roger McGough

A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don't let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.

And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don't take sweets from?
Perhaps they're to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.

I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there's puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.

Comments about First Day At School by Roger McGough

  • charli deamilo 6/22/2020 9:18:00 AM

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    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • peach 5/5/2020 8:47:00 PM

    dont u ever just realise that people actually like weird and random poems. especially this one. Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • ur mum gae 4/29/2020 4:20:00 AM

    This is a scary poem ngl Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Dfffffff 3/15/2020 9:46:00 AM

    Wow..... Reply

    5 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet 2/26/2020 8:25:00 AM

    I’m bob I eat kids I have som in my basement Reply

    10 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Pewdiepie 2/26/2020 8:22:00 AM

    Why eating I’m creating chariters to post my comment WHY Reply

    7 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rocky 2/26/2020 8:20:00 AM

    I like it, it has good memories from my 5th grade. I was in a new classroom with no friends yet. Reply

    6 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
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  • ANKWASA HARLORD 12/28/2019 10:51:00 AM

    I like it thank you for sharing I really enjoyed it Reply

    5 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Uche Nwanze 10/12/2019 5:04:00 PM

    A fascinating poem, beautifully crafted. Reply

    9 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
Read all 126 comments »
School Poems
  1. 1. First Day At School
    Roger McGough
  2. 2. School Is Not So Cool
    Chantel Braatz
  3. 3. In School-Days
    John Greenleaf Whittier
  4. 4. Among School Children
    William Butler Yeats
  5. 5. The Flower-School
    Rabindranath Tagore
  6. 6. School Just School
    kerri king
  7. 7. On Old Man's Thought Of School
    Walt Whitman
  8. 8. A School Song
    Rudyard Kipling
  9. 9. Address To The Scholars Of The Village S..
    William Wordsworth
  10. 10. School
    Dwayne Earle Gordon
  11. 11. School School School
    somebody u will never know
  12. 12. Stay In School
    Leon Thomas Lee
  13. 13. September, The First Day Of School
    Howard Nemerov
  14. 14. Lines Written As A School Exercise At Ha..
    William Wordsworth
  15. 15. The School Of Metaphysics
    Charles Simic
  16. 16. Kitchener's School
    Rudyard Kipling
  17. 17. The Junior High School Band Concert
    David Wagoner
  18. 18. Sonnet: On School-Life
    Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar ..
  19. 19. School
    Samantha Holstiene
  20. 20. Going To School
    Clarence Michael James Stani ..
  21. 21. The Latest School
    Gilbert Keith Chesterton
  22. 22. School
    Jamie Parker
  23. 23. M. Degas Teaches Art &Amp; Science At Du..
    Philip Levine
  24. 24. School
    Miss Smiley face
  25. 25. The Old Bark School
    Henry Lawson
  26. 26. Tests And Homework And Quizzes And School
    David Kulczyk
  27. 27. Come, Pretty School-Girl!
    Henry Clay Work
  28. 28. The Prelude, Book 1: Childhood And Schoo..
    William Wordsworth
  29. 29. On The School Bus
    Alison Cassidy
  30. 30. Senryu - Back To School
    Don Haney
  31. 31. Going Back To School
    Stephen Vincent Benet
  32. 32. High School Slinger
    Omar Ali Sabar
  33. 33. O The Pressures Of School
    Fidelis Patronus
  34. 34. The Old School List
    James Kenneth Stephen
  35. 35. School Rhymes
    James Clerk Maxwell
  36. 36. The Journey From School And To School
    Charles Lamb
  37. 37. (01) A Farewell To My School
    Lubna S. Khan
  38. 38. I Sent My Child To School Today
    Doug Hollywood Davis
  39. 39. A School Is So Not Cool
    fahed sharaf
  40. 40. Leaving School
    Jane Tomlin
  41. 41. A Little Girl's First School Day
    Ben Gieske
  42. 42. (009) My School Conducts Athletic Meet
    Risha Ahmed (12 yrs)
  43. 43. School Time
    jibin joseph
  44. 44. Walking Through High School
    Heather Hill
  45. 45. 'An Old School Valentine'
    Linda Winchell
  46. 46. (117) I’m Late For School
    Risha Ahmed (12 yrs)
  47. 47. The Prelude, Book 2: School-Time (Contin..
    William Wordsworth
  48. 48. School Time
    Kim Ferguson
  49. 49. School
    logan dillie
  50. 50. School
    Brian Aji

New School Poems

  1. Mat Model Of Educational Leadership, MATLOOB BUKHARI
  2. Exceptional Qualities Of A School Princi.., Susan T. Aparejo
  3. Something I Look At - 56, Smruti Ranjan Mohanty
  5. School, Isabelle Chadwick
  6. Autobiograhy Of A Poet, Sayeed Abubakar
  7. A Lullaby Song-2, Indira Renganathan
  8. Gccnhs Supports Doh Program On Students.., LADY NIKKA LOFRANCO
  9. Poems In French By Encyclopedic Poetry S.., Xiaoyuan Yin
  10. Poems In French By Encyclopedic Poetry S.., Xiaoyuan Yin

School Poems

  1. Among School Children

    I WALK through the long schoolroom questioning; A kind old nun in a white hood replies; The children learn to cipher and to sing, To study reading-books and histories, To cut and sew, be neat in everything In the best modern way -- the children's eyes In momentary wonder stare upon A sixty-year-old smiling public man. I dream of a Ledaean body, bent Above a sinking fire. a tale that she Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event That changed some childish day to tragedy -- Told, and it seemed that our two natures blent Into a sphere from youthful sympathy, Or else, to alter Plato's parable, Into the yolk and white of the one shell. III And thinking of that fit of grief or rage I look upon one child or t'other there And wonder if she stood so at that age -- For even daughters of the swan can share Something of every paddler's heritage -- And had that colour upon cheek or hair, And thereupon my heart is driven wild: She stands before me as a living child. Her present image floats into the mind -- Did Quattrocento finger fashion it Hollow of cheek as though it drank the wind And took a mess of shadows for its meat? And I though never of Ledaean kind Had pretty plumage once -- enough of that, Better to smile on all that smile, and show There is a comfortable kind of old scarecrow. What youthful mother, a shape upon her lap Honey of generation had betrayed, And that must sleep, shriek, struggle to escape As recollection or the drug decide, Would think her Son, did she but see that shape With sixty or more winters on its head, A compensation for the pang of his birth, Or the uncertainty of his setting forth? Plato thought nature but a spume that plays Upon a ghostly paradigm of things; Solider Aristotle played the taws Upon the bottom of a king of kings; World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings What a star sang and careless Muses heard: Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird. VII Both nuns and mothers worship images, But thos the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose. And yet they too break hearts -- O presences That passion, piety or affection knows, And that all heavenly glory symbolise -- O self-born mockers of man's enterprise; VIII Labour is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul. Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil. O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer, Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance?

  2. In School-Days

    Still sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sleeping; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry-vines are creeping. Within, the master's desk is seen, Deep-scarred by raps official; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife's carved initial; The charcoal frescoes on its wall; Its door's worn sill, betraying The feet that, creeping slow to school, Went storming out to playing! Long years ago a winter sun Shone over it at setting; Lit up its western window-panes, And low eaves' icy fretting. It touched the tangled golden curls, And brown eyes full of grieving, Of one who still her steps delayed When all the school were leaving. For near it stood the little boy Her childish favor singled; His cap pulled low upon a face Where pride and shame were mingled. Pushing with restless feet the snow To right and left, he lingered;--- As restlessly her tiny hands The blue-checked apron fingered. He saw her lift her eyes; he felt The soft hand's light caressing, And heard the tremble of her voice, As if a fault confessing. "I'm sorry that I spelt the word: I hate to go above you, Because,"---the brown eyes lower fell,--- "Because, you see, I love you!" Still memory to a gray-haired man That sweet child-face is showing. Dear girl! the grasses on her grave Have forty years been growing! He lives to learn, in life's hard school, How few who pass above him Lament their triumph and his loss, Like her, because they love him.

  3. The Flower-School

    When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down. The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its bagpipes among the bamboos. Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows where, and dance upon the grass in wild glee. Mother, I really think the flowers go to school underground. They do their lessons with doors shut, and if they want to come out to play before it is time, their master makes them stand in a corner. When the rain come they have their holidays. Branches clash together in the forest, and the leaves rustle in the wild wind, the thunder-clouds clap their giant hands and the flower children rush out in dresses of pink and yellow and white. Do you know, mother, their home is in the sky, where the stars are. Haven't you see how eager they are to get there? Don't you know why they are in such a hurry? Of course, I can guess to whom they raise their arms; they have their mother as I have my own.

  4. School Is Not So Cool

    School, School, School, A school is not so cool We're here 5 days a week 8 hours a day. School, School, School, A school is not so cool. People laugh when we fall we just have to make a call. School, School, School A school is not so cool. We have to work hard to get good grades I'm not going to do it no more I do it everyday. We cant go on the grass We cant bother another class We cant save spots at lunch We have to go as a bunch. We have 3 minutes in the hall I'm always late what a ball. We have to pay attention if not we get detention. School, School, School, A school is not so cool. They have to many rules they play us as fools if we get A's the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray. If we get F's we tell them we need to take a rest. We always have homework we never have classwork they have to many rules they need to take it cool. School, School, School, A school is so not cool!