What do you do all day, I wonder
When you're not teaching me at school
You have no ring on your left finger
And you always cling to that rule(r)
You speak as if we are listening
I admit you seem nice enough
Do you enjoy your current life
Or is it lonely, boring, tough?
Although for science you have such a passion
You look lonely, at least to me
I'm sure you must have a family
But do you have family you often see?
You talk and talk and talk
Do you think that I understand?
(My eyes are getting tired
But still I move my hand)
What do you do at home, I wonder
Do you live all alone?
No wonder you spend so much time here
You have an empty home
Copyright © Juli- Michelle | Year Posted 2013
Know how to make
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013
When I was young I hated school;
in playing truant saw no harm.
How could I throw away the fun
which I enjoyed on grandpa’s farm?
My mum was strict and had her way
while the pied piper played his fife!
So common sense won in the end;
I taught in schools most of my life!
Contest: Two Lenses
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2016
Oh, you tedious earthen road,
This weary traveler faithfully
Has walked your hilly, rocky path
Absorbed in its great mystery.
I've traveled far and traveled wide;
Now tired, I pause beside your stream.
Its peaceful quiet soothes my soul
To long for sleep in endless dream.
The fire's made, the chores are done.
Why must I ever move along?
Just let me lay upon your bank
And hear your carefree, rippling song.
But, I must move on—on and on,
Make haste while there is sun and light.
More roads to walk and hills to climb
Before the dark and cold of night.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: In The Style Of My Favorite Poet
Sponsor: The Seeker
Rules: An original poem that you feel best emulates the style of your favorite famous poet.
Favorite Poet: Robert Frost
Inspired by his poem below
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
“What are we ever going to use this for?”
Students ask every single school day.
So sit back, grab a coffee, get comfortable,
And all the reasons, to you, I will say.
Fundamentally it’s about allowing people to
Fully realize the value of their own mentality.
To make them know ethics and empathy,
Solve problems, be social, owning morality.
Education develops language and literacy,
Listening and comprehension sufficiently.
It develops an ability to solve small and large problems,
Solving them efficiently.
Students will learn, first hand, how to explore
An active community with a rich diversity.
And how to repair self-esteem, cooperatively respecting others,
Whenever they face adversity.
They will refine gross and fine motor skills,
Learn how to set targets and achieve their goals.
And whenever things seem to become too much,
They learn how to jump over potholes.
Education is not about capitalism which produces too much,
Sharing nothing, at too high a price.
And it’s not about communism failing as an ascetic morality,
Essentially a fool’s paradise.
Education creates peacemakers, healers, restorers,
Storytellers, and lovers of every shape and form.
It creates people with moral courage to make this world a habitable,
Happy, humane thunderstorm.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016
Am I just another creature?
Thriving hard to make a future?
Beyond what can undergo suture
Thoughts have almost my heart rupture
No my dear you are special
With no thought of being partial
Who has got so much potentials
That you’ve displayed from initial?
Why have I not come top in all I do?
Why hasn’t anyone asked to know who?
When I put my potentials all through
Except, sometimes, just you
Bother less on those, my dear
They have all, their own fears
Of a genius who’s so much near
That will with them this glory share
I hope not to forget who I am
For I hope to do great with these arms
To reach wide even to those in farms
Yet not to have a soul by it harm
It’s great to think less of persons
Just do your things in its right season
Without a thought of selfish reason
And their thoughts shall be to them a prison
Copyright © Reuben Enahoro | Year Posted 2012
Today, it just doesn't seem fair
That we are still able to breathe.
They have given us their air-
Our duty to lead the life they leave.
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2012
I knew I was good at opening doors,
To blossom their thoughts and ignite.
Everyone had their own little glittering globe,
My job was to make them shine bright.
The interview went great in the London office,
When I talked the talk that I walk.
The panel embraced my every word,
A maths teacher that knew how to chalk.
The next job interview was over the phone,
The principal needed me to teach Japan.
“Japanese? Hell yeah”, then I’d change it to French,
A year of languages? Yep, I was the man.
And then the call to the next principal,
An Aussie, renovating his foyer.
Six years of a one year trial maths job,
To the kids I was the mathematic destroyer.
And now a call from the state’s executive,
Starting next term with our indigenous youth.
“Teach and inspire, excite and succeed”,
I’m to teach the mathematical truth.
I’m a teacher of teens, I teach every day,
To be reasonable, rational and logical.
So when they’re grown up and out and about,
They’ll wisely “out think” any obstacle.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016
- by Bob Atkinson
"... ode to those
who teach creative
writing at the
yet have not the
to produce something
to listen graciously
then turn away
feeling for the
wonder at his
for my life on lumpy
simply put this
wreck of words
drives not my lucid
in fear of simple
those so hard to
find difficulty in
what should or
feed me what to this
has not been allowed
to equate justice
that nonsense we all
can only drive us
a path toward firm
Copyright © Bob Atkinson | Year Posted 2014
And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little
children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven".
I remember my father's decline
A man of respect and polish
Becoming more and more infantile
Until the inevitable finish
I ponder this strange process
Leaving exactly as he came in
Eyes bound by laws of trust
Never contemplating the idea of sin
Do souls of such integrity
Heartbroken from limitations
Offer one last gift of love
Without any explanations?
And was his love so great
That until the very end
He put away his pride
Trying to show me how to live?
For my coworker and dear friend Ray, whose father is experiencing
the exact same decline as my father two years ago.
Copyright © The Fringe | Year Posted 2011
ADVICE FOR LATE TEENS – GOOD TEACHER vs BAD PARENTS
For low your own path’s based……they
Ensure how innate your own lean ought to be. Leave it -
And sure now in nature your only note too. Believe it -
Follow your own path spaced. Nay,
With distance you’re not too tied in their shoes ;
With this stance your knot to tighten there……choose!
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
The words float through the air,
trying to find a home in my head,
sleep is calling without a care,
disappear do the words the teacher said.
Soon my classroom is no longer there,
replaced by the wildest thoughts in my head,
replaced by the actions I never would dare,
disappear do the words the teacher said.
The gentle breeze of the ocean blue,
drowns the other thoughts in my head,
nothing I would rather do,
disappear do the words the teacher said.
Copyright © Melody Simpson | Year Posted 2009
I am chanting the songs to praise our greatest Teacher
He was living 80 years and nearly 3000 years ago
Still his teachings gave all of us everything to live better and wiser
Let's celebrate his birthday with our utmost understanding that we know
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando May 17, 2016
Copyright © hien tran | Year Posted 2016
"This 'pome' don't make NO sense! What junk!"
the scowling students muttered.
"Two roads in the woods!" one hissed Such bunk"--
opinions rudely uttered.
I quelled the urge to hurl my book.
I said, "Can't you surmise
what they might mean? Let's take a look.
What might they symbolize?"
One hand shot up--then two--then three!
My probing did the trick.
Alas! Two kids just had to pee.
The other whined, "I'm sick."
The bell rang. As my prisoners fled,
"Essays next week," I screamed.
"I ain't no good at them," some said.
My mind was gone, it seemed.
entered in PD's Contest 15 (100 in a Row) on September 18, 2016
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016
SHARRON IS CHAMPAGNE AND CHARM
I never know what days she comes here
And it makes no difference what she may wear
she only graces this place about three times a week
And if given the chance I probably couldn’t speak
We once exchanged words, but I don’t know what I said
I kept speaking while envisioning what could lay ahead
She looked like the picnic type with grapes and champagne
But then I could tell there was sophistication in one who seemed a bit plain
Not so much a chameleon, but just eager to please
I would pour her a glass of champagne while upon my knees
I was describing how it seems we’d both seen it all
How many times did she rise and how many times did I fall?
Only a few days of the week and I never know what day
Because if given a chance I can’t think of what I would say
Maybe I’d tell myself that she doesn’t deserve the wild side of me
Rather I squeezed out “would you like to go on a picnic ma’m” and she came to agree
She could tell me a tale and I would tell her a story
It may be rhetorical, analytical or an allegory
The lady described with Van Gogh type accuracy her childhood and that which she’s seen
And I find her so intriguing she could convince me the sky is green
Alas the lass but passes my way yet I must have a ration
I describe a fiery, hellishly hot kind of passion
I’m talking about the electric thrill that stuns me whenever she passes by
While I’ll be impatiently practicing to tell her I actually saw a green sky
© 2011.….Phreepoetree free cee!~
Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011
I was six and in first grade,
When my teacher came to visit.
I hung around the house that day,
'Cause I didn't want to miss it.
Miss Henderson was very nice,
And her rule number one,
Was to get to know each pupil;
To know us one on one.
She followed Mom into the house,
Being polite and proper.
Mama set out tea and cakes,
And told me not to bother.
She wanted things to be just right,
To make a good impression.
She wanted to discuss with her,
My manners and my lessons.
Before she left my mom gave her,
A tour about the house.
They visited the garden,
Where Smokey caught a mouse.
He looked up and saw me,
And brought it straight to me.
He stood there with it in his mouth,
And eyed me carefully.
Then he dropped it at my feet.
It scurried fast away.
It ran across my teacher's foot.
She yelped and jumped away.
Smokey ran and got the mouse,
And brought it back alive.
"One more time." he seemed to say.
The teacher nearly died.
"He's brought it back! Oh sakes alive!
Let's go back in the house!"
"Don't be afraid.' I said to her,
'He's teaching me to mouse."
Mama laughed out loud at that,
The teacher was averse.
"Do they always play like this?"
"Oh no, sometimes it's worse."
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2016
Willows bend with the mighty wind
Oaks crack, tumbling to the earth
Pay attention, nature is teaching us
Lessons to give, since its very birth
Strength is in the willow as it bends
Not snapping like the Oak, so tall
To be flexible is the message for us
Otherwise, one in the winds, would fall
Birds tend to fly south in the winter
Showing instinct to stay safe and warm
Learn from the feathered teachers
Grow with changes, to escape harm
Turtles have a shell to protect them
They hide in it with no words to say
Learn from them, how they are handled
For they live to walk another day
The lion, the mightiest of hunters
Sits still and silently awaits its prey
Take a lesson here from the attacker
Wait your turn, it will come, your day
So look upon nature, the face of the earth
As it serves to teach us all what we need
Watch closely, copy, maybe just use once
With balance, then practice, you’re sure to succeed
Copyright © Michael Degenhardt | Year Posted 2008