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Best Mentor Poems

Below are the all-time best Mentor poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of mentor poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Mentor Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Mentor poems are below this new poems list.

Of My Mentor by DAMFIELD, IRSHAD
The Mentor by walkerjohn, michael
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
GREAT ANSWER FROM MENTOR by Samson, Olatunji
The Gospel According to Mentor by Sentes, Glenn
To My Mentor: On his day by Idris Dolapo, Adesina
Spiritual Mentor by Braaten, Allen
Master Valluvan, the long-misunderstood Tamil Mentor - Part Six by Wignesan, T
Master Valluvan, the long-misunderstood Tamil Mentor - Part Five by Wignesan, T

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The Best Mentor Poems

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Pretty Poet

Where Have All The Pretty Poets Gone? 

A real poet are you, charismatic over everything you serve
Showcasing, a rainbow that folds the perfect world wide perspective
I'm talking about flawless literature at its best no typos, no muss
Just a page full of boredom and rust
Thank you for having Lunesta all up in my head
It's like reading a poetry lesson, from the extras of The Walking Dead
An image frozen cold, waiting for inspiration to hit like Al Capone
I'm bored of your flora flamboyant language rocking me like stones
A psychedelic trip, into the odyssey of a blind man's tale
A home where I am pushed to open a dictionary & thesaurus with braille
Wondering what you just said, --Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful day! 
  
The best rocket pen poet in the USA Today, 
Launching words like no tomorrow, a fool of wordplay and sorrow
A godlike guinea-pig genius, delegating poetry politician style
Perhaps, one day you will become a famous writer
Burning books, like a cigarette lighter
Until then, enjoy pushing your pen as if it was cocaine, 
Snorting up and cutting up the food chain in vain
Patronizing and ignoring those, for better or worse
A solo cup stuck up another cup, -won't even look my way
Correct me if you will, it's no big deal
Just don't forget to give me the same respect I offer you

Until then my pretty poetic friend, I kneel before no one 

By: ME
5-25-14

More great poems below...


Details | Mentor Poem | |

- Sparkling Oceans Apart -

You're a maiden so hot burning thoughts 
whom melts ice inside deep waves salted 
unfolding ocean swells kissing your feet 
For once spoke those hot lips the truth shining 

Sunshine pleasing warm beholding to 
one's eye golden crowned jewel beauty 
rainbow luster coloring pearl treasure 

It's giving off their beauty pure free 
that does not require something in return 

A lady who pleases the heart warm 
Princess cut with deep class sparkling pure 
utopia's adorable sun rise 

How the body is heated and hear 
her echoing heart beat in the chambers 

Shining a future path dreaming ore 
every single moment precious links 
each one spent with you falling under spell 

Love is like pure sparkling magic gem 
unpredictable true and marvelous 


Magic silk covers batting eyelids 
enchanting soft lovingly flowers 
beautiful petals held within the shell 
Let the rose live forever and the sun 
shines always endless times glistening gold 





Written by Liam Mcdaid and Anne- Lise Andresen 
a co write in a 9/10 syllable count

a warm thank you anne lise

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Captcha WHA6

When I was only five
Heard mommy always's say
Angel  keep being naughty and you won't make it to
6




Entry for Adam Hapworth's
Captcha Acrostic Contest
G.L. All



Details | Mentor Poem | |

The Poet

The Poet

Tribute to
Tim Smith @ Poetrysoup.com

Seeking inspiration
in the darkness of the night.
He listens to the shadows
to give him words to write.

A longing somewhere in the wind
a broken heart cries out.
It's captured his attention,
now's not the time to doubt.

He listens to a love gone wrong
he hears the teardrops fall.
Still he cannot turn away
until he's heard it all.

It speaks to him of anguish
and of a broken will.
He feels a soul begin to bleed
but he listens still.

When silence again finds him
in the shadows of the night.
He speaks for the voiceless
within the words he'll write.

Sending hope and faith and love
on wings of butterflies.
He reaches out to broken souls
then he helps them rise.

For deep inside he holds a key
though many may not know it.
The way to mend a broken heart
is the heart inside the poet.

Edwin C Hofert 

Details | Mentor Poem | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013


I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over


Sabrina Niday Hansel


______________________________________________________________________
Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 

More great poems below...


Details | Mentor Poem | |

My Guardian Poet

A guardian poet you have been to me
Much like an angel, there protecting me
When I was silent, lost in dark of night
You read my words and brought me back to light

You told me that my words were ever true
That in my writes were thoughts profound and new
You would not let me simply drift away
A word of hope you’d send to greet each day

Your name is there below each thing I write
To tear dimmed eyes you brought a vision bright
“The Queen of Passion,” how I love the name
You gave to me and life is not the same

To you, my Guardian Poet, thanks I bring
You fool me not; I see your angel wing

Eileen Manassian Ghali 

Richard Lamoureux and I joined Poetry Soup at about the same time a year and eight months ago. Richard has been like a mentor to me. I’ve recently been very unwell emotionally and unable to write. I have appreciated the fact that he did not give up on me and kept daily visiting my previous writes and leaving words of encouragement. My words are my soul, so, in a way, he was affirming my worth as a person, which is what I was in need of. Richard has written a poem for me entitled, "Queen of the Romantic Pen."
 
Richard, your friendship is precious and dear. You are a man of faith and integrity. May God bless your home, your loved ones, and your heart with all that brings you joy. Thank you for standing by me through my dark times.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Mantra in Mantle

They don’t walk to them
To beseech their shows of hands
They as a rule stay
On a raised dais and talk down
At their feet on crusade grounds

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Playing God

Playing God I know she cherishes the sun, but I Must turn her often lest she grow deformed And stifled in her quest for too much light. And at the faithful window, day by day, That glow appears—her sustenance of life. Instinctively, she lifts her leafy palms As if to catch each golden ray, and leans To kiss the glass, back arched in thankful pose. And I, like God, keep turning her around To make her straight, aware that she must work To find the light once more. An endless fight, This turning, turning, cutting short her time To fully drink of sun. And what despair For her to face again the shadowed room— To gather strength, confront the task at hand: The twisting, writhing, standing tall, erect— Then leaning, reaching out for light again. And yet she grows in beauty, health, and grace. The secret lies in proper tension kept Between my God-like care to keep her straight, And her strong will to seek and worship sun. © Sandra M. Haight 2015 All Rights Reserved ~1st Place~ Contest: Structured Forms-Iambic Verse: Recite and Analyse a Fictional Event Sponsor: Giorgio, A.V. Judged: 02/23/2015

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Breathe In Me Life, For Death Enshrouds

“Seducer, healer, deity or thief,
I will see you soon enough—
in the shadow of the rainfall,
in the brief violet darkening a sunset—
but until then I pray watch over him
as a mountain guards its covert ore
and the harsh falcon its flightless young.”
-Dana Gioia’s Prayer

Captivated, cruelly scorned Innocence breached in the caress of sifting leaves I breathe… Shards of crimson ice splitting the skies, I breathe… Hung in the nest of my Guardian’s threshold I breathe… I receive the tantrums of travesty, Though I pause, the air suspended in my lungs Death, damasked and naked The hairs of his youth dancing in the breeze I breathe…I breathe… Words of ire, phantom echoes in my mind, I breathe…I breathe The pain of existing taught in those eyes I breathe…I breathe Until the fighting for control ceases Until the lungs are filled to the brim with torrential tears My eyes, open, lifeless I see you, gallant Guardian A silhouette sobbing, a heart pounding and throbbing You sing to me, lulling life wonder Spices surround me, for you are my Gatherer of needed scent Allowing your tears to fall, refusing to grieve Seeing in me budding revelation Your lips hot against mine Gently, gently you breathe And in Death’s astonished brow, I live

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Finding God

          God is All of Us


The “Grand Inquisitor” was I
inside the grand Cathedral
hatred’s chains and silenced screams
chasing God from every cell.

I cursed the bells, the rancid robes,
a child’s now shattered golden globe
alone, in fear of that called love,
frightened eyes of wingless dove.

An angel came, haloed beret,
told me the church was stone
that God’s extended hand
is formed of willing skin and bone.

So I left my hell that day
and slowly learned to trust
the hand of God that led the way
for God is all of us.



8/6/2014
For Gail Angel Doyle
contest – Finding God

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Its Personal

Reasons i should have killed you before birth
You speak to my heart in sharp tones
Cutting all inner senses and ability’s backbones 
You kept chasing my dreams in thoughts and roles

Mr Poem

I regret you ever lived in my timezone
You speak to my heart in sharp stones 

My skull 
Your home 
Separated from body languages
The floor plan built in nine months to live happily ever after
Is torn apart before the vast fruity paintings you planted to impart
You built the wrong domicile in my style
My tongue is far from being nursed

So tempted to curse supernatural affairs
I need you to fill my purse
You are my King 
Speak my wings so i can fly my dreams

A King shares his blankets with flies
Sipping tears on dry oesophagus seasons
With words he farts stinking expressions   
He swims out of overflowing jealous pools

The people’s mate with no checkmates
He leaves hope before his death dates
Building lanes for babies covered in flies in high rates
Bigger than lies on worship graves

A King knows poverty speaks one language
Self-medicated brains eating traumatic reasons
Single homeless heads share roofing reasons

Mr Poem 
Be my leg when i walk my rhymes
Be my mentor when i bite styles blaming poverty’s global roof skies

Yours Creativity

(c) Raymond Ngomane

Details | Mentor Poem | |

My Father's Footsteps

I can see you up ahead of me
I am following 
in your footsteps

no matter how fast I walk
I cannot catch up 

your footsteps are bigger than mine
but they were warm 
and safe to step in

you turn around
and smile encouragingly
then return to your journey

thank you for your footsteps
when I can no longer see you 
they will always be here
pointing me in the right direction

Dora Roimata Langsbury
27 June 2009

Written for my father, Kuao Langsbury, for his 75th birthday gift.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Enemy Wear

"Enemy Suit"

If you are my online styling enemy, 
Then I love you more than poop and snakes combine 
I'd pray to God, every night, 
'Ask him to fill your room with termites 
Once in a while, I'd ask him to give you grace 
In hopes today, you don't expose the green monster face 
Enough said for the time to be.

To:
My dearest enemy, my mentor
I want you to know, you taught me well
Tonight I Will Put On My Enemy's Clothes
And I'll be the fake friend that hugs you
 

Hugs, Hugs, Love, Love Linda


Details | Mentor Poem | |

Went Fishin'


Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
------------------------------------------------

Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.

A Garcia 2510T casting rod.
The reel, a Mitchell 301,
Plus hand-selected worms and lures…
I was ready to have some fun.

My teacher, a master fisherman,
Had fished all over the earth...
From trout in Austrian mountain streams
To sea bass just west of Perth.

He showed me all the basics,
Including how to tie a lure.
“No snaps. They’re no good.
Tie’em on…just to be sure.”

He made me practice casting.
“Take aim with your rod’s tip 
Take her back - ten, eleven, twelve, one;
Smoothly return to ten… with just a little flip.”

While I practiced the casting motion,
He said, “Large Mouths will be jumpin’ bugs.
Water’s bubblin’ with Sand Bass spawnin’.
You’ll know the difference if one gives you a tug.”

As we drifted around the islands,
He said, “I think you’re ready.”
So, I picked a lure, a pretty Heddon;
And tied her on.  My hands were steady.

Yellow with black dots and a weed guard. 
A streamer tail and double treble hooks.
Who knew if she would do the job,
But I liked the way she looked.

As I tied her on, I looked around
For a likely place for my first cast.
Magazine pictures always showed weeds
In the background of a striking Bass.

So, I picked a reed bed in the shallows;
Threw my first cast, watched her fly.
What happened next was the stuff of dreams.
We couldn’t believe our eyes. 

About eighteen inches before she lit,
A monstrous Large Mouth erupted from the water.
My teacher screamed, “Holy Mary, Mother of God!  
Kiss O’Reilly’s Ugly Daughter!”

When the Bass broke water, it scared me. 
My whole body jerked and shook.
So sudden, so silent, it seemed like slow motion.
Until I heard him screaming, “Set the hook!  Set the hook!”

When the big Bass scared me,
I must have set the hook.
The tussle was on, long and hard.
This fish didn’t want to be cooked.

My lack of skills prevailed, however,
As I finally reeled him in;
I grabbed him by the lower lip,
Like I’d seen Don Wallace do, time and time again.

“Oh, my God”, he murmured as he weighed the Bass;
“Jeez.  Over thirteen pounds....Thirteen pounds, two.”
He took out his Polaroid and laughed, 
“I’ll take a picture of this fish... holdin' you.”

He snapped the picture of me holding the Bass;
On the back wrote the date, the length and weight.
As he turned to put the camera away……
Get ready.  This is the part that’s great.

I’d watched Don Wallace ‘catch and release’.
He always did that on his show.
“This fish put up a good fight.” he’d say;
“Now it’s time to let him go.”

Yes, as my teacher put away the camera,
I held the big Bass by the lower lip and tail
And ‘swished’ him in the water,
Making sure his gills would not fail.

My teacher turned and saw what I was doing
Just as I let the big Bass go.
This, too, was like slow motion
As I heard him screaming, “NOOOOOOO!”

“Why would you do that, Lad?
Do ya know nothin’ at all?
A fish like that... on your very first cast?
Well...Lad, that fish goes on the wall.”

“Well…he’ll be here next year.” I said with a smile,
“And even bigger, I’ll bet.”
He said, ”You’ll make a fisherman, Lad.
It’s not for the fish that we fish…

but for the great stories we get.” 

I still have that lure…and the rod and reel.
Still in their bags and boxes, just like new.
I thought about selling them on eBay,
But 50 years later, they have sentimental value.

You see…I’ve been invited to go fishin’ several times
By golfin’ buddies and other friends;
But for some reason…I really don’t know why…
I’ve never gone fishin’ again.

They say, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
And I believe that is a fact.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of truth and,
In the meantime…..”Ya’ll come back!”

Details | Mentor Poem | |

We Lost More Than a Dad

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost half of how we came to be
We lost we four girls first love
We lost our Best Friend

We lost more than just a Dad that day
Our Mom lost her Soul Mate, Her other half 
Our children lost their Papaw
We lost our family’s foundation 
We lost the glue that held us together

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost the Strongest man we ever knew 
We lost the man we looked up too
We lost we four girls Teacher of many things

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We four girls lost our Hero
We lost some of our Light
We lost part of our Heart
We lost part of our Soul

We lost more than just a Dad that day
We lost some of our Courage
We lost some of our Strength
We lost some of our will to fight back
We lost some of our will to carry on
We four girls lost more than a Dad
We lost more than just a Dad that day

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Details | Mentor Poem | |

A Child's Dream Come True

As the sunsets at the end of the day,
And the night begins to fall,
So, does all the dreams of all the little children,
In their own wonderlands of their own,
Wishing and thinking of great things to come,
Hoping their parents will make these dreams come alive,
Cause dreams to children should become bright and gleam,
And all to them more than just alive,
All children want is hopes and dreams to become true,
But if you can teach them how to work hard at them,
They too can make their dreams become their own reality,
For any one person works hard enough,
At what they want in life,
They can have any one thing they want,
All they have to do is work really hard to make it real,
For believers can believe in themselves,
And strive to work toward making their own goals,
Their very own come true,
Which gives more satisfaction in life,
Than things being handed to you,
So always strive for the best,
And all your wishes and dreams can come true,
In your life if you want them too.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

quadratic

minus b

plus or minus root(b squared

minus four times a times c) — all above divided

by two times a — this is the quadratic formula and is absolutely correct

Details | Mentor Poem | |

my country kenya

                      What a harmonious land it is, 
                       Full of integrated citizens,
                       Peace and unity all over,
                       Always emerging at the top,
                       What a blessed country it is?

                       Some say you are my motherland,
                       But fatherland likewise you are,
                       You give one peace and comfort,
                       How graceful i adore you,
                       For being my mentor.

                        If only i had one word to say,
                        Or one drop of ink remaining,
                        Or even only one line vacant,
                        I would proudly say that,
                        I love you!

Details | Mentor Poem | |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Mentor Poem | |

One Country, One World

Which nation of the world
Do I belong?
I belong to the nation 
Of unity,
No transgression,
And freedom for all.

I belong to the nation 
Of  Equalities-
Equality between 
Proletariat and aristocracy
Disabled and abled
Woman and man
Young and old
Black and colored
People and nation
Right and rule...

I belong to the nation of peace
Across the land, the sea and the sky.
And peaceful stretch to the arboreal.
And Peace of souls,
Of bodies
And minds.

My belonging
Is my strength-
The rhythm that keeps me growing.
Though I was born a Nigerian.
Not I neglects being call
American, Ghanaian, Portuguese
Chinese, Korean, Indian...
Though I'm by virtue 
Of land mass
An African      
Not do I dismiss 
In unison unit 
That type me Asian,
North American,
South American,
European, 
Australian
And Antarctica.

I belong to
A nation,
A voice...
One country,
One world.




Details | Mentor Poem | |

WHY

Why man is so scared of solitary Hina?
But is ready to devastate with someone!
Oh this dilemmatic notion slaves my mind to think
Please don’t mention its love, it is never prejudiced,
Not self-conceit either, then what is it Hina?
Just have a look around please
Whatever it is, is it beyond dignity of man?
Or is it merely another reflection of principles or values,
Or again is it the fear of death in solitary?
Maybe the dread of stigma,  
i need to be answered , because last night,
When I saw that face in the veil,
Hopeless and wounded, but,
Still unable to cede, per significant other,
Why still diffident, don’t tell me this is love,
i still await to know, hope  it’s not a fallacy
Then why their conscious doesn’t agree
It is not enough to convince me hina,
This reality is so bitter to swallow,
I will just wallow in my own vistas,
Yes! I’m not destined for this kind of absurdity.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

Call Me A Fool

call me a fool cause
I'd rather be called a fool 
then called a liar

Tony Dean Driskell
% I've been known to do some very foolish things 
    in my life and that I can live with.
% I can't say I've ever been labeled a liar though 
    and that I am very proud of.

A fool can out grow they're foolish behavior and redeem him or herself but
a liar, once labeled a liar must constantly be on the 
move like a virus avoiding being exposed to the the cure.

Details | Mentor Poem | |

They Stood - We Stood -Together

They say “You are only as strong
as the person standing beside you.”

There have been times when that thought…
frightened me, for the person standing
beside me……..was……..well……
let’s just say….. I didn’t choose to stand
beside them.

Perhaps it was a strange twist of fate,
you know…..a karmic curve ball – 
and I was supposed to be the strong one.

I have been in rooms full of people,
all standing beside one another,
and thought: “We’re all screwed”,
“look at this collection of inbred inhumanity.”

I now know – sadly – they were thinking
the same thing.  No one asked for a show
of hands as to who the “strong” ones were,
no “leader” T-shirts labeled them, no super
hero music played as they entered the room.

They were there – throughout my life –
those ubiquitous stalwarts, friends,
mentors, speed bumps, guideposts,
showing up to stand beside me
even when I didn’t know why they
were there.

I know now – why they were there –
coincidence, chance, providence,
the kindness of a humorous god,
the gift of serendipity, the luck of the draw.

I know now why I was there, why we were there.
We are only as strong as the person standing beside us
and the person standing beside them and the person standing……..
Well, anyway, I’m proud to be counted among this
collection of screwed up, inbred, inhumanity.
It is a pleasure to stand with you all.

John G. Lawless
1/17/2015