Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.214
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I do not rule with iron hand,
but with the rhythm of sacred sand—
each grain a word, each line a sign,
where order breathes and hearts align.

Before the lesson dares to start,
I plant the law with quiet art:
Not carved in stone, but shaped in grace—
a whispered guide, a steady place.

I walk not tall with voice raised high,
but low and warm, where truth can lie.
A glance, a pause, a name well said—
can calm the storm that storms ahead.

Praise is light, and I let it shine
on every soul that seeks to climb.
The smallest try, the softest voice,
is honored here—it is their choice.

I set the chairs in sacred round,
where trust and laughter can be found.
And in that space, they learn to see
that peace is born in unity.

When troubles come—and they still do—
I do not shame, I don’t undo.
But meet them there with calm and care,
and ask what truth still waits to share.

Each rule is not a chain, but wing—
to teach respect, to help joy sing.
And every child I’ve come to know
has taught me how the Spirit grows.

Their voices rise in morning light,
unsure at first, then bold and bright.
They test, they reach, they fall, they mend—
and find their center in the end.

I walk the circle every day,
not just to guide but to obey—
the higher call that whispers low:
"Let love be what your actions show."

I watch them build with blocks and words,
their questions flightless, then like birds.
Some come with wounds too raw to name,
yet even there, I light no flame.

Instead, I offer space to breathe,
to let their guarded selves unsheathe.
The broken bits they fear to show
become the ground from which they grow.

And I—a keeper, not a guard—
hold wisdom not as rule, but shard:
A mirror turned to help them see
the brave, becoming way to be.

I do not wear a heavy crown,
nor weigh each rise, nor mark each frown.
But in my silence, I still shape
the kindness that their lives will drape.

So may this room, this ring, this flame,
forget no face, neglect no name.
Let every child who leaves this sphere
still hear its pulse in times unclear.

Let them recall the calm, the care,
the hands that held them unaware—
and know that even when alone,
they carry peace they've always known.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required