Best Teacher Poems
Below are the all-time best Teacher poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of teacher poems written by PoetrySoup members
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Teacher
Poem
Money-God
Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.
Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.
People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.
Godless?
With or without the words,
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God,
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.
The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.
If I had been given the chance,
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.
When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....
....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.
If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within,
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.
Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.
Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.
If I had been given the chance -- past tense....
....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,
until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.
December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S: 28 - 2 = 26
January 7th, 2013
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Teacher
Poem
4th Grade Music Room
Under her guidance, we stood at attention
forming a row for the national anthem
"Oh Say, Can You See?"...those familiar old words
We would sing, not in unison
but with avid enthusiasm
out of tune, out of rhythm
with our childish delusions
that we were quite good!
As we stood in the room
she would move down the line
with a frown in the lines
of her brow, then would bow
till her ear matched our voice
and her hand would be poised
with two fingers ensued
keeping time with the tune.
She would grit all her teeth
bite the inside of cheeks
Such a serious task!
it was all that she asked
that we please..do our best
When we mastered, at last
She would gasp, then exclaim
as we sang each refrain
Mixed with tears, she would clap
I remember it now...
Here I stand in this row
with my hand on my heart
as the first strain imparts
Yes, I know those old words...
they'll remain part of me
'til the day that I die
"O Say, Can You See?"...still familiar to me
But no..............I can't see....
There are tears in my eyes...
_________________________________________________
For the Project UFO Contest: Sponsored by Robert Heemstra
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Teacher
Poem
School
Why does a child have to go to school?
Why do we have to spend so much time working?
This seems simply cruel.
Isn't it just irking?
Some people say school is important for learning
Couldn't a child learn on their own?
It would cause much less yearning,
After all, we can learn from our phones.
I can somewhat see a parents point in sending their child to school.
But why would you choose what we wear?
It just allows us to look like fools,
We may as well come to school bear.
As you can see school is not fair,
So please don’t force us to go if you care.
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Teacher
Poem
Weird Carolyn
Weird Carolyn
The other cheerleaders didn’t like football
Basketball was much easier to follow
But I got bored watching them dribble the ball
My response was hard for others to swallow
Growing up I didn’t have too many toys
So I had to find my own entertainment
I became a master of animal noise
When I “croaked” on the bleachers strange looks were sent
My frog impersonations left them aghast
When I did my seagull, the team stopped playing
They stared at me oddly as though I’d passed gas
They couldn’t relate to talents displaying
This was the first thing that led to my nickname
But once in class I was asked to give a speech
The teacher was writing, so bold I became
Her attention I was trying to beseech
Being a contortionist since childhood days
Locked one leg and arm, looked like a flamingo
I perched on one foot for each eloquent phrase
The teacher looked up and called me a weirdo
The class agreed and “weird Carolyn” was born
Frequently called upon to put on a show
Much laughter I bestowed, accolades adorned
Never understood why I didn’t have a beau
*Entry for Francine’s “Tell us something we didn’t know” contest. Okay, the secret's
out and I'm ready for my punishment. At high school reunions I'm still called upon to
perform.
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Teacher
Poem
And People Ask Why I Don't Take a Class
My vacant stare was sure to be
a giveaway to anyone that saw . . .
I was a Pilgrim there to the land of techno-jargon,
of icons, Help instructions meaning nothing,
and a world of young and savvy operators.
Our teacher wasn’t there.
Certain that the worksheet explaining all the basics
would be a breeze for us to carry out,
he’d arrogantly left the room
and left the lot of us to the mercy of
a keyboard and computer.
I looked up from his worksheet
to a screen that stared right back at me,
awaiting my commands.
I was on the starting path to what is often called
the Super Highway,
and my boarding pass, tuition to the class,
was non-refundable.
Overwhelmed, I started out. Then I hit a rut
and didn’t have a clue what next to do.
My learning peers already seemed to know
the route quite well.
Some, in fact, were calling it a day
while I stayed on, ashamed to bother
any of the others there for help.
I looked around the room, my tired brain
a hot plate in the midst of younger minds
with the speed of ovens made for microwave.
Perhaps they’d all conspired to put
the older lady at unease.
It seemed the more I tried to understand,
the more pathetically off course I’d go. . .
Till finally (longing for a time when
“cut and paste” implied the use of scissors),
I got up from my seat and left behind
the self-instructing worksheet which
that egghead teacher said would be “a cinch.”
Two big words were scrawled across the top
of its first page, two big words in red,
written with the one tool I could trust:
SCREW IT.
For Natalie Whitlock's
"Talkin' Technology" Contest
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Teacher
Poem
My Poetry Begining PoetrySoup
It was the last day of school twenty some years ago
The teacher asked us to write a poem,in any form we may know
Never doing this before I let the words flow just letting it all hang out
After I handed it in,the teacher was really impressed without a doubt
She showed it to some other teachers saying"Hey look at what Dan wrote"
None of them could believe I wrote all those silly words down in a note
Seven years after school I wrote my prewife a little poem
She said awww how sweet,and into a junk drawer it was thrown
Five years after that,I wrote a poem in a homemade Valintines card
She looked at it and asked "was buying a real card just to hard"?
Another five years later sitting by myself and drinking alone
I entered a poetry contest because I felt my thoughts needed to be known
They sent me a letter back saying they wanted to put my poem in a book
I right away sent the letter back saying ok,without even taking a second look
Thats when it all began,I started writing poetry it seemed like everywhere
Reading it to my friends and they would listen with a unappreciative stare
Then one day I came across this site,kind of interesting called PoetrySoup
I couldnt believe all the heartfelt kindness,they made me feel part of the troop
Dan Kearley:12-6-11
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Teacher
Poem
The Superfluous Pianist
I am the greatest pianist in the entire universe
Even my piano teacher had to take lessons from me
Then it was Mozart’s lesson at 1 pm and Liberace’s lesson at 3!
I can even play the 5th of Beethoven with “just” my big toe
My fortissimo is louder than one hundred young virtuosos
Even Tchaikovsky’s booking agent said that I stole his last show
Being such a world class musician is a heavy burden you know
Did you know that I’ve never practiced a single day in my life?
Beware of my romance sonatas; your spouse may steal me for his wife
Yes, my piano playing has been the cause of much marital strife
I thrive on accolades about myself; would you like to hear some more?
For a standing ovation and a shower of roses, I’ll even play you an encore!
Written for Susan Burch’s Contest~ Ridiculous Self Exaggerations ~
1st Place Tie
2-10-12
**Dedicated to the very best piano teacher in the entire universe,
Douglas Somers II**
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Teacher
Poem
The Lost
Innocent lifeless
Pretty children rest in peace
Let us pray for them
The kids were victims
The shooter was victim too
Let's not put a blame
Exclamation sign
Love family, love it right
Don't loose, hug them tight
Dear educators
Part of the victims as well
The lifetime tribute
Mourn traveled the world
Burn by cause last on effect
Careful in our steps
Author's Note:
Deep condolance for the victims of Sandy Hook School in Newtown, Connecticut,
Inspired by Zamalea George Poetry "Sweet Children, Sleep"
*****************************************************************
4th place
poetry soup VIGIL" Free Poetry Contest
Sponsor SKAT- AB SIN THE-
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Teacher
Poem
His Soul Is True
This man behind the mask
Is always ready for the task
He is brave and in control
He’s a warrior of the soul
He is the poor man’s hunter
With poems from down under
Belonging to a private club
He’s the creator of the hub
He loves to read and write
About places out of sight
Giving poetry the chance
To lace it’s lot, perchance
His soul is true like Lancelot
And he’s the bravest in the lot
I tip my hat to you brave one
You have braved the war & won
Mystic Rose
May 6, 2013
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Teacher
Poem
Cindy Had A Little Bird
Cindy had a little Bird,
Little Bird, little Bird,
Cindy had a little Bird,
Its feathers were yellow as the sun
And everywhere that Cindy went,
Cindy went, Cindy went,
Everywhere that Cindy went
The Bird was sure to go
It followed her to school one day
School one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day
Which was against the rules.
It made the children laugh and play,
Laugh and play, laugh and play,
It made the children laugh and play
To see a Bird at school
And so the teacher turned it out,
Turned it out, turned it out,
And so the teacher turned it out,
But still it lingered near
And waited patiently about,
Patiently about, patiently about,
And waited patiently about
Till Cindy did appear
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
Love Cindy so? Love Cindy so?
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
The eager children cried
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
Loves the Bird, you know, loves the Bird, you know
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
The teacher did reply
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