Online Class Poetry Novels & Stories

Ciara's POV "Unsaid words are the ones that break me, The words I never said because of closure that was never brought Shaking my leg anxiously due to those unsaid words You broke me Everything you do, you have broken me." Shan delivers a reading of my poem assignment for the Arts Appreciation Class. We are both in our first year of college and went to Father Saturnino Urios University. "I hope I've handled everything. You are fortunate, and you have made a poem. Can you make me one?" he asked, "I'm not prepared yet! Please, for the sake of me."

The pretty lady on-stage said to her mic, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Penny and I’m the host for the Poetry League. I’ll now come up with a theme where everyone should base their poetry composition on. Whoever writes the best will earn the title The Gifted Hibiscus Scholar! You should know this title is the highest honor for scholars and literati!” Penny scanned the crowd. “It’s deep into autumn, so the theme for this year’s Poetry League is Autumn. Whoever writes the best poem wins!”

I'll provide you with some. 'You say it won't be at the university. What if someone recognizes me?' 'You don't have to worry. People pay for these get-togethers. It's a unique opportunity. I had to talk about Romantic poetry, a period that fascinated me. And on a paid basis! I tried to instill my enthusiasm in Bill, who didn't quite understand a thing.

She couldn't believe how childish she was to be doing something so superstitious. " It's a surprise." Mr Theo teased. " Tomorrow it will be announced." The whole class booed him but he did not care. "Open you books to page thirty five." Mr Theo instructed. " Today we will be doing a poem . It's called petals. Ella please can you stand up and read the poem."

As much as I hate my life, I don’t want to die. The only reason I bother to get up is because I can hear the girls pottering around in the kitchen. Ever since they cancelled my in person lessons, I haven’t been setting an alarm. There's no point. Online classes are more casual, you mark your own attendance and if you miss the live session, you can watch the recording.

I smile at her and she stays frozen "Uhm" she clears her throat "please take your seat Amari" She smiles nervously "Oh I would love to, ma'am" Sitting down at my desk I stare at her and she turns her gaze away from my direction "So yes Augustin the 3rd didn't cherish......." After that, I just decided to doze off cause no one actually cares about some poet in the 15th centuries ------- "Okay class that would be it for today," she says to us.

It was that subject that interested me and I don't know why people were not seeing it from my side of view and speaking of which, I had the chance to sit down beside the pretty lady right now because of my intelligence in literature. "I just want to pass my examination, that's all." She told me then muttered to herself, "Then I will escape from literature forever." I chuckled when I heard her. "You can't escape sweetheart, you're stuck with it." I declared to her. "Can we start the tuition now Dr Raphael? I have to be in somewhere later." She said, now getting impatient. "Sure." I pushed closer to her on the couch with a poetry collection in my hand. "Let's start from the one that always get

Huggins, our teacher, walked in before I could embarrass myself further. “Good morning, students,” Mr. Huggins began, his voice steady as he adjusted his glasses. “Today, we’ll be conducting a critical analysis of the poem RedWolf. Our very own senior poetry expert, Mr. Jake Adams, will be assisting us today.” As soon as Mr. Huggins finished speaking, the entire class erupted into applause, and I couldn’t help but notice how every girl seemed to light up as if they’d just won backstage passes to see Justin Bieber or something. High school life was so cliché—there was always that one guy every girl drooled over.

His departure only added fuel to the fire, causing the others to burst into full-blown laughter. MILES My first class started with a lecture from our year 11th English teacher. As Mr. Lucas droned on about the nuances of Shakespearean sonnets, I found my mind wandering. I had always struggled with poetry, and this particular lesson seemed like a never-ending nightmare. But then, just as I was starting to tune out, something unexpected happened.

Another tortured creature that stood amid the roar of a surf-tormented shore, contemplating if all we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. He bored me. Intimidating and unapproachable, he sat alone in class, either ignorant or unaware of the mooning girls batting their eyelashes in his general direction. I thought I was above him, more than him, too good to be a cliché like the rest of them. So what if I was a poetry student? So what if I dressed the part, flowing black wraps over black shirts and black jeans and black hair? I didn't need to be the entirety of a cliché and obsess over the volatile being who mused alone in the corner.