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Best Teacher Poems

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Details | 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




.

Details | Teacher Poem | |

having sex - footle

buck wild
rodeo style
_______________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 14, 2014!

Details | Teacher Poem | |

The Priest with Spirited Eyes

The Priest with Spirited Eyes


Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes,-
  Shared love given to those with great need!
   Comforting hearts that hurt but don't bleed,
 With love spent in helping as precious time flies

Your healing gently washes away so many lies,
   Mercy prevails as you plant that seed;-
Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes,
   Shared love given to those with great need!

As welcomed as are rain clouds in desert skies
   Healing those victims with kindness and speed!
   Hearts mended, imprisoned Souls quickly freed,
With tender mercies prevailing and joy in the cries,
Heart sees tender giving in those spirited eyes.

07/13/2014

Sponsor Debbie Guzzi 
Contest Name - Random Acts of Kindness 

Rondel
A French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet,
 rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the 
refrains, or repeats.

Details | 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.

Details | Teacher Poem | |

The Teacher

O Teacher! My Teacher!
I would dare to channel a master just for you.
I know not if I am up to this lofty task,
but it is to your expectation that I try to rise. 
You never asked for anymore than my best
and I love you for never demanding any less.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
If you had not opened a locked door,
the engulfing rays of enlightenment
may never have caressed my yearning face,
or held me tightly in her awakening embrace
releasing the song desperately trapped in my soul.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
You always said I had a great gift.
If that is true, I heap all praise on you.
You have the most wonderful offering of all
for within you rested the ability to recognize
the potential now flowing freely under my pen.

O Teacher! My Teacher!
I will forever hold you in the highest esteem.
I am not certain if mere words could ever express 
the appreciation I have long held for your guiding hand.
Undaunted by the impossible task now in front of me,
this student will once again try to impress his teacher. 




This piece was inspired and written for Professor Judy Davis who taught at the College of Central Florida until she retired. She was my English Literature and Composition teacher the first time I went to college. Many go into teaching, but the special few, like Judy, are called to the profession. She is now enjoying her retirement, but her old student here still communicates with her occasionally. 

Details | 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.

Details | Teacher Poem | |

Mother's Love

Mother’s Love (Sonnet)

Love begins at the time of conception
When a mother’s dear child grows in her womb.
Her life is changed to thoughts of protection.
Excitement of wonder and gender bloom.

This new little life will bring heightened joy.
A new baby is what dreams are made of.
It matters not if it’s a girl or boy,
Birth will bring happiness and so much love.

Teaching a sweet child as he or she grows
Is a most important tool used each day.
To teach how compassion and kindness flows,
As they emulate and do things our way.

A mother’s love, with every endeavor,
Is a gift to her children forever.

© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong

Happy Mother’s Day to every Mother and Step-Mother and Grand Mother and 
G. Grand Mother. Happy Belated Mother's Day to those of you in countries 
where you have already celebrated Mother's Day.


Details | 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

Details | 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

Details | 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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