Finish Strong: Poems to Pass in Class

 Out of the night that covers me,       Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be       For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance       I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance       My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears       Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years       Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate,       How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,       I am the captain of my soul. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

 Somebody said that it couldn’t be done       But he with a chuckle replied That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one       Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried. So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin       On his face. If he worried he hid it. He started to sing as he tackled the thing       That couldn’t be done, and he did it! Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;       At least no one ever has done it;” But he took off his coat and he took off his hat       And the first thing we knew he’d begun it. With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,       Without any doubting or quiddit, He started to sing as he tackled the thing       That couldn’t be done, and he did it. There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,       There are thousands to prophesy failure, There are thousands to point out to you one by one,   ...

Wanderer moon smiling a faintly ironical smile at this brilliant, dew-moistened summer morning,— a detached sleepily indifferent smile, a wanderer’s smile,— if I should buy a shirt your color and put on a necktie sky-blue where would they carry me?  If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

 A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed,    Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried tokens    Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their hastening doom    Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,    Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow, I will give you no hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in    The bruising darkness Have lain too long Facedown in ignorance, Your mouths spilling words Armed for slaughter. The Rock cries out to us today,    You may stand upon me,    But do not hide your face. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

Hold fast to dreams  For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

There was a time I could say no one I knew well had died. This is not to suggest no one died. When I was eight my mother became pregnant. She went to the hospital to give birth and returned without the baby. Where’s the baby? we asked. Did she shrug? She was the kind of woman who liked to shrug; deep within her was an everlasting shrug. That didn’t seem like a death. The years went by and people only died on television—if they weren’t Black, they were wearing black or were terminally ill. Then I returned home from school one day and saw my father sitting on the steps of our home. He had a look that was unfamiliar; it was flooded, so leaking. I climbed the steps as far away from him as I could get. He was breaking or broken. Or, to be more precise, he looked to me like someone understanding his aloneness. Loneliness. His mother was dead. I’d never met her. It meant a trip back home for him. When he returned he spoke neither about the airplane nor the funeral. Every movie I saw while in ...

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?      Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today? This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through;      Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you? Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along?      Or a churlish sort of "Howdy" and then vanish in the throng? Were you selfish pure and simple as you rushed along the way,      Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today? Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that's slipping fast,      That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed? Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said;      Does a man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead? Did you waste the day, or lose it, was it well or sorely spent?      Did you leave a trail of kindness or a scar of discontent? As you close your eyes in slumber do you t...

 You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I'm a b...

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, And the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you have to sigh, When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is queer with its twists and turns, As every one of us sometimes learns. And many a failure turns about When he might have won had he stuck it out. Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You may succeed with another blow. Often the goal is nearer than it seems To a faint and faltering man. Often the struggler has given up when he Might have captured the victor's cup, And he learned too late when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown. Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint of the clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are. It may be near when it seems afar. So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit. It's when things seem worst that You musn’t ...

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,      Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,      And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest!      And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest,      Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,      Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow      Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting,      And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating      Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle,      In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle!      Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!      Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,— act in the living Present!      Heart w...

Welcome to "Finish Strong: Poems to Pass in Class" poetry project!  As you may know, the fourth quarter can sometimes be stressful for many students in Uni High; whether you're preparing for any final exams, deciding where you're going for college, or finishing your project. We made this blog to inspire all the burnt-out students in the fourth quarter with inspirational and motivational poetry. Every other day, we plan to post one inspirational poem in this blog and on the TV screens in the hallways of Uni High (hopefully soon). Students, teachers, and faculty can view the poem any time of the day and can scan the QR code to view more poems in this blog. In addition, users of this blog are able to comment on poems they find impactful. This way, users can interact with each other and appreciate how poetry is read differently by different people.  Rules: This should be self-explanatory. Please do not post any comment that is inappropriate or harms other people. Let'...

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as t...