Funny School Poems

Funny school poems make kids smile about school.

School Bus
The bus arrives at five till eight.
If I don't rush, I'm always late.
The school bus smells of lunch and glue,
And while we ride, there's lots to do.

We talk a lot and throw some hats,
play keep away and things like that.
The driver yells, but we don't mind.
Beneath it all we know she's kind.

There's lots of noise; we laugh and shout.
We get to school. We all pile out.
We go to class, to lunch, and then
it's time to ride the bus again.

The bus time's fun. I think it's cool.
It's my favorite part of school.

Poem and Art by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.
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Funny School Poem #2

Front Row
My desk is in the first two rows
that's just beneath the teacher's nose
Her eyes are on me, just like glue.
She watches everything I do.
I raise my hand. I seldom speak.
I swear I am the perfect geek.
I wish I was row four or five,
and then I'd really come alive.
I'd throw some spit balls, pass some notes.
I'd really get the teacher's goat.
I'd make them laugh. I'd be a ham.
I like to joke. That's who I am.
My teacher knows -- and what I fear
Is that is why she keeps me near.

Poem and Art by Denise Rodgers
Copyright©Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.
Permissions

Funny School Poem #3

Teachers Pet
I think that I'm the teacher's pet.
But trust me, I'm no poodle.
I know the answers to the tests
and like to read an oodle!
I always do my homework
and I hand it in on time.
When it's time for poetry,
I like to write in rhyme.

I'd never throw a spit wad,
pass a note or talk in class.
I'd never dream of talking back
or giving teachers sass.
It's true I'm not a poodle,
but there's nothing I regret.
I guess that I'm the perfect one
to be my teacher's pet.

Funny School Poem #4

Visiting Poet
A poet came to school today.
We sat together, writing.
I expected boring stuff.
But it was real exciting.
We tried alliteration
and some metaphors to start.
Pretty soon our writing
felt like we were making art.
We all had big, lined notebooks
and a brand new black ink pen.
And even when the poet leaves
we still will write again.