Free Verse Teacher Poems | Free Verse Poems About Teacher

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Details | Free verse |

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. 

Copyright © Kim Morrison | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

4th Grade Music Room

Under her guidance, we stood at attention
forming a row  for the national anthem
"Oh Say, Can You See?"...( familiar old words )
We would sing,  in unison,
but with avid enthusiasm!
Out of tune, out of rhythm
with childish delusions
that we were suburb!!

As we  stood in the room
she would move down the line
with a frown in the lines
of her leathery brow, then would bow
till her ear matched our voice
and her hand would be poised
with two fingers that cued,
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 YOUR 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...

Resubmitted for PD's Contest: 101 In a row #4

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


It is said that he was weak because he would not
conform, could not subjugate his will, would not
let them imprison his mind, cage his spirit.  Weak
because he stood alone and not with the milling
mob.  Weak, because he would not speak the
words they desired to hear.  Weak, because he
smiled when others wept, laughed when others
wailed, stood tall when others bent beneath the
 toil of life.
They prayed for him to come to his senses and
become as they.  He, though he didn’t pray as
they, desired the same for them.  He knew that
there was no strength in the coalition of the crowd,
no truth in the mumbling of old truths, no love
in the demands of unconditional love.
He appreciated their prayers, they did not so
much appreciate his.  He would listen as the
sound of the choir filtered through the air and
caressed the trees and wonder why the
vibration stopped when the hymn ended,
why the sermon stopped when the preacher’s
voice stopped echoing in the apse.
He would sing the song in silence as he walked
the village roads, roll the preacher’s words over
in his mind, smile at soaring hawks and old
barn cats, straighten a fence, remove a stone,
bid good-day to those who thought him weak.
He was not rich nor was he poor, neither wise
nor foolish, he just was.  And so he shared his
weakness with all who thought themselves
strong, his loneliness with the friendless,
his thoughts with those who sought to teach him,
his spirit with those who allowed their spirit to be
It is said that he was weak by those who never
dared to share his weakness.
John G. Lawless//10/15/2014
Submitted to Verlena Walker contest
My shortcomings are overwhelming; however, my strengths are defeating them!

Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Head of the Class

My heart sank, her buttery sweet voice
summoning me to the front of the class
I stood there chalk in hand, with my shoulders slumped
The question she asked, for the answer she already knew
She chose not to teach, but rather to embarrass me
I was not a welcome guest, Hallowed Halls of learning didn't seem to fit
I stared emotionless at a blackboard covered in white chalk dust
Laughter filled the room until I could shrink no further
Oh how I wished I could disappear, escape to my place of daydreams
Then the teacher called on one of her special ones
The girl with perfect clothing, a perfect smile, she was the apple of teachers eye
That favoured girl removed the chalk and burden from my hand 
Red faced, I returned slowly to my place of shame
I sat there in my wooden desk, with my blue eyes turned down

Perfectly put in my place at the head of the class!

For  FJ's "Jaw Dropping Contest"

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

How you showed me love

I might have been a child but it wasn't until
I knew how to dream that I felt real 
All the good things, and the bad
Helping me smile when I was shy

I was alive from the vibes you gave me
Taking your time
so I could see the truth.

How you showed me love
I remember everything you did

And every face you played
Affects the way I play
I learnt to live your way
Every day, Every day

I might have been alone, and never found
Talking to a wall, or I coulda drowned
Weighing up blame
Stirring up hate, shouting you down

But you kept giving me time 
Watching my feet, making drum beats
When i fall, i don't frown

How you showed me love
I remember everything you did

And every face you played
affects the way I play
I learnt to live your way
Every day, Every day

oh, try, try, try again
The look in your eyes as you waited for me
Taking your time, so I could see the truth.

How you showed me love
I remember everything you did

And every face you played
affects the way I play
I learnt to live your way
Every day, Every day

(written as a song -

Copyright © Steve Tomlin | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |



When you meet a deaf guy no one says  - 
Wow, can’t  you hear this  (whistle)?
How about this (bell)?    Or this  (handclap)?
When you meet a blind  girl no one says  -  
Oooh,  can’t   you  see this  (flashlight)?
Or this  (computer screen)?
So why do people enthusiastically  check out my ability 
When they hear  I’m colorblind?
Colorblind ? !   Oh  boy,  ( a freak !) this is exciting….
Can’t  you see green?  Red?  How about yellow?
What color is this sweater?   That ball?
What colour does grass look to you?
What about traffic lights?
How do you watch television?
Feels like I’m in a zoocage.
At school I was always in trouble because 
In my drawings I colored the grass red instead of green.
All the same to me, but the teacher 
Got quite abusive   and angry  because 
In her world grass had to be  green.
And tell me, who ever made it law 
That oceans should be colored blue?
Mine were always purple,  all the same to me. 
Would the teacher have said to a blind kid,
“You little fool, can’t you see the grass?”
Or to  a deaf child, ”Hey stupid, can’t you hear the music?”
Oh it doesn’t really bug me  but
It’s interesting to see people’s behavior 
Towards certain afflictions.

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

To My Super Souper Friends

Alot of you folks have been able to say what you feel this holyday season with exquisite 
wording and beautiful sentiments. I can't do that. Maybe if I tell you a story about a 
little kid who was raised and worked on a farm. A farm boy in a class of city kids is ridiculed 
for some reason and beat up alot cause that proves to city kids that they're strong when 
they beat up a farmer kid. So I did the best I could with my sense of humor, got beat up 
when challenged and avoided other confrontations by learning to run real fast! When they 
picked teams for basketball, I was odd kid out. Too little. I found it hard to fit in anywhere.
    One fine day our 7th grade teacher gave us a homework assignment to write a poem 
which we would read aloud in class the next day.The stipulation was that, on your honor, you 
could have no help whatsoever. A solo project.
   After chores that night, I did as she said and was surprised at how easy it was. The 
next day, when it was my turn, I timidly read aloud to the class the first poem I ever wrote.  
When I finished, I awaited the verdict . All was quiet. The teacher told me to sit down. I did. 
She then admonished me for cheating on my assignment and getting help. Of course I did 
not. I still vividly remember how it felt to have all my peers watching me as our teacher 
dismissed me for a cheater with a look of disdain on her face. I was speechless, devastated 
and embarrassed by what others thought.
   The experience pushed me deeper into myself than I had ever been.. It's amazing to me 
how these feelings are resurfacing en force as I write about it. I've written poetry on and off 
since then but never taken it seriously. It was just some force that reared itself once in a 
while until it was subdued by writing one.
    Now, in the autumn of my life, something very strange and wonderful is happening. I 
have been introduced to you, my poetry soup friends. The injustice done to my poetic soul is 
every day being identified by myself, rectified and healed by your loving support. I'm no 
longer throwing my poems away. You have given me in two months what has been missing 
since the 7th grade. You have given me courage, confidence, encouragement and the 
companionship to take up where I was left off. Because of all of you, I can grow again. I was 
at a stalemate in alot of things and then this. Coincidence? More like Christ incidence. Get it? 
YOU are my Christmas gift from Love come down! This is my card to you.  

Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |


Why, why, why? Is all I ask
Do you send these folk my way
They're not the ones I'd choose myself
But I attract within hooray
You must have plans to work me Lord
Have I really gone astray

I try so hard to be polite
You send me those who groan
From trials of life
Crying painful body drones
But I face a war continually Lord
Spine crumbling pained bones

I questioned much over the years
Of those you sent my way
But each one has had effect on me
What will I have learned today
I want to tell of things you've done
And why I've learnt to pray

You sent me counseling to help
Through things wrong in my youth
Then church fellowship did help me through
When marriage went down sluice
A teacher friend taught me much
In assertiveness and truth

You sent me someone kind and true
When I'd thought life was gone
A friend of a friend a neighbors brother
Turned out to be the  one
Who'd bring me home and settle again
Protect me and my two sons

You showed me work where I did learn
The skills to pull me through
In kitchens I did learn to cook
In schools help my children too
The staff within were pillars and rocks
In illness helped me do

You send others now to my house
Now I can't go out all alone
I used to sit and ponder sorry
I couldn't do things on my own
But now I have found new waters
I can swim and write a poem

I help others through my charity support
When I can get to phone
I can help in ways that others cant
And control load with able zone
I listen to those there struggling
Look at positives not moan

So I'm thankful for those folk you sent
Though I don't understand your process
But each time one has helped me to 
Understand and cope it's noticed
So send someone to help I'll pray
And I'll listen as perfect hostess

Author's notes

Okay, so I realize as it stands it needs tweaking, but at the time the pen flowed and now it 
needs some TLC... any ideas welcome, although I do not want to detract from the 
meaning/depth.  Any idea of rhyme was not originally intentional so please forgive I know at 
present its dreadful!! Help please?

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Teacher Dont Teach Me Nonsense

Don't teach me nonsense
Seed my mouth and amplify the need for rare manuscripts 
100 % my degree in exams 
Spelling my conversational law facts 
Teach me more sense 
Release and ease my lazy spirit to tongue twist my images to the right sense 
Teach me less law stress 

Fade away chapters covered in adult pampers
Baby rhythms leaning on group fan fantasies 
Slow mode every click in my tongue twisting slam illusions
Deep kissing my future pictures inspired by scriptures 

Pro Pro Prosecute all free verses escaping jail exams
Pro Pro Professionals don’t live long in prisons premeditated to cage kids
Your lessons will child baby writers
Kids connecting former and future electrified fighters

Their fake ideas were all original 
Teacher don’t teach me nonsense
They spoke so we can speak for all uncaring letters 
Un-curving letters rebuking licences of nonbelievers

Alphabets that endlessly group hug messages in passages 
Words singing bullets pointing to kill silence
Learn to teach lessons with judgments on stillness
Teacher how can i fail your corrections, 
please ease my worries i need protection
I think I am qualified to be a poet though i failed my people 

I wrote exams and failed to finish my languages about punctuality 
Your stop watch gave no sympathetic second chances 
Intelligence is for ever tested but never forgotten in sentences
Your judgments are too hash for our passion 

Teacher don’t teach us your accent
Your language is connected to those ancestors wearing mini skirts 
How can i judge with no law degree? 
Teacher don’t teach me nonsense
Seed my mouth and amplify the need for fresh manuscripts 
100 % my degree in exams 
Spelling my conversational law facts 

© Raymond Ngomane 

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Through the Eyes of A Child

It’s not fair 
But then it never is
All the teachers
All the learning that they got
It couldn't prepare them 
Could it?
It couldn't stop it 
Or halt it
Or even control it?
The whirlwind that is I

All the promises and
All the lies
It was all too much
It was never enough

I tried
They didn’t
The whispers behind my back
The taunts, and jeers;
Even the teachers 
Who are supposed to protect 
and keep order;
Just walk away
Just ignore her
She’ll go away

Yes Mrs. Mother 
Well stop it
Don’t worry

She has coodies
She’s creepy
No one likes you
Go away
No one wants’ to play with a lesbian like you
It would be so much better if she were gone
I wish she would just leave forever

Would it?
Could it?
Was it?
I left
I hide
I never showed my face
But you still;

What did I ever do to you?
What could I have done to you?
I was only ten
Just barely out of childhood really
But I can't really blame you...can i?
No I can't

My only option left
Was silence
Did it make you happy?
Did you smile?
Was all that work
All that cruelty
All that heartache;

Was it worth it?
Did it finally make you feel better?
Like you were better,
More powerful?

Who was your next victim?
Never mind.
Not like it matters
They didn't help them either
I suppose

You can't see
You refuse to see
Just like the teachers
They all failed
Not only me

But you

I hope you all are proud.

Copyright © Rayne Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Listen to Me

You never listen
Yes I know it's true
I see you try and deny it
How's that working for you?

I will say one thing
You will hear another
I will try to fix it
The misunderstanding you see

I just got in trouble
(Sigh) I told you so
They never listen to me

They say they do 
And I know they try
But all I want to do is scream

All I asked is that you think
What is real?
Do I ever ask this?
Will I ever again?

All I really did
Was ask
For friend

All I want
Is to be free
Free to listen
And free to be me

Sadly though
You'll never see
Just how much your 
Not listening has killed me

I have tried
Really I did
I know that I'm not eighty
I know that I'm not nice
But the only thing I asked 
For was five minutes (at the most) of your life.

I'm sorry that you failed
I'm sorry that I tried but
Mostly I'm just sorry that
I'm not sorry,
Not anymore.

Copyright © Rayne Thomas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Bladder Problems in Class

Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-

Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


I try, I try, I try again
This cycle, I just can't break free
Every day the same routine
Yes, it is tiresome,
But it is necessary
Says the teacher
Who without fail,
Gives it out everyday
What could this be?
Homework, what else?

Copyright © Caleb Thompson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

To The PE Teacher

I'm over it
I'm giving up
I don't have to do it
Yet you force me to like I'm a chump
I avoid it like an illness
You let it go
But today is the day
You took it no more
You didn't yell
Yet you exchanged insults
You hurt my feelings
That was the result
You called me a girl
You called me a clown
And if this keeps up
You're going down
Can't you see
I don't like PE
I'm not being rebel
But you scare me into anxitey
Just leave me alone
You treat me like a drone
You're not getting forgiveness
But you can get off my blacklist
If you cease and desist

Copyright © Tyrone Johnston | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

Class or Claaassee

Class or Claaassee !

Night  owl with an open circumstance fears
from blue neglect with the rages of unfortunate
idealisms---“why don’t you”---a nag  nag  nag
sequence,  fosters an arm’s length gaze glance
I peer through picket fence fingers, while tongue
depressing hop  to  it  euphemisms to gag
your elementary gesture fantasies with lurking
adult  gonatitudes, (envy) in full glee—“I don’t
care---but then what if”---and
would even believe me if I tried to tell
you the truth, you don’t want to touch in mind.
I fail to the order of kindergartenal suicide
and prose my character to mold your moods in
one tenth hope of a swelled down deep particle
secret desire. Take it for what it is and not think
to misabandon,  stop  look  and feelisten.
Your neighbor is only good as you. Plain 
simple downdeep and bittersweet bliss bias
but for—lorn fortunate to at least gain a
Goldilocks glimpse into your uncouth
vascular unconscious. Given a mathetical
½ chance I may le-learn a think or 2
and----------------------hey,  gimme me a hecka break
as he razed her eyebrows.

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

From a Student's POV

Schools can be so unbearable sometimes, 
On some days, it’s the work
On others, it’s the teacher
Do this! Do that! No! Yes! Stop! Don’t talk!
Some days, you just want to kill everybody

The Classroom is much like an animal kingdom
Imagine a class 
With 30 students
Each with their own crazy personalities 
Their bipolar mood swings
Hot-blooded teenagers 

Imagine a teacher
Once was sweet
Sweet smile
Turn to a monster
Like Princess Fiona
In Shrek
Gone the sweet smile
Voice raise up high
With eyes that can kill
Like lightning strike from the sky

Let me introduce you
My world
My kingdom
But if you looking
For a fairy tale
Just turn the other way around

Meet the first one
Mr. Ass, we call him
The Attention Seeker
Nothing can stop him
Who wants to be heard 
And to be heard often
The first to raise their hands
With thousand questions fall
Drive me crazy up the wall

Next, “Goody-Two Shoes”
The good girl
The angel
Prim and proper
Obedient and kind 
Smart. Dilligent
Sweet as a pie
No more to say 

Then,“The ChatterBox”
Like a radio DJ
Constantly chatting
Speaking. Chattering. Blabbering.
Keep talking
Even when teacher is talking
Still mumbling whispering
Till the bell rings
Non stop rapping. 

This is my favourite
Mr. Class Clown the best
Does he have the red nose?
Or curly yellow hair?
Or wide creepy smile?
No! No! And No!
Not that clown, silly
One funny guy
Or at least he thinks so
Sometimes the jokes are funny
Sometimes they are not
So lame.
But their Mission is obvious
Everybody must laugh!

Then, we have the Nerd 
Glasses and ties
and books too
Books? Boring
Well, for us the nerdies
Books are clever 
Books don’t bully
Books know no nonsense 
What’s more
Books fertilize your mind with superb ideas and make you monstrously intelligent
Says the nerd. 

Forget the nerds
Look who’s coming
The one and only
The Star. Mr. Celebrity
Clapping. Cheering. Whistling. 
All the way
No matter what they do
Oh! And don’t forget
Good looking too.

So, now you see
A glimpse
Into my world
Where we make friends
And learn many trends
Despite the differences
We’re just normal teenagers
We love. We hate
We learn along the way
So, cut us loose
Oh, dear teachers
we will be nice
give us a chance 
But sometimes
Just let us be
in our very own skins
As we are
Hot-blooded teenagers!

Copyright © Lisa Asmeralda | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Porn No More

I've watched the war from behind closed doors;
Eyes too glued to close.
And now knowing what's in store, there's porn no more.
God's love is the only hope we know.
We are forgiven because of the love that is Jesus.
We are saved because of the love that is Jesus.
We give our lives to the Father for we are His children and He loves us.
We are loved!
No matter what we've done, we are loved!
Confess and ask for forgiveness;
This is such a beautiful gift!
Thank You God!
Thank You Jesus!
You forgive me!
You save me!
You change me!
I am changed!
I am new!
I am renewed!
I am forgiven!
I am saved!
I am changed!
There's porn no more
For God's hope is in store!
There's porn no more
For God's love is the hope of the world!

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Name of Jesus

Whisper me the sweet sound of freedom,
The sweet sound found in Your Name,
Holy and Heavenly freedom,
All in the Name of Jesus!

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Light

They praise me like a saint,
But I am a sinner;
They don't know the man they see.
I am an addict.
Broken eyes to pornography,
Only Jesus can set me free.
Only by His death on the cross
And the grace of His Father's love
Am I able to be set free.
With God as The Light,
The One and Only Light,
The Only Hope in sight,
Will I be set free.
I am free.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

the teacher

drinks wine after school
has far too many

eruptions from

	small pitchers
	small bowels

	paper cuts
	budget cuts

	that	 	terrible mother

	racism filtered
	a 6 year old prism

and crayons

	all over

		the floor

Copyright © Julia Cheng | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

My Teacher fancied me

I think my teacher used to fancy me
Because  on my work she gave me kisses
Instead of a tick
She'd keep me in the class after school to do lines
I wanted to be a brain surgeon
But I guess I was just too thick.

In break time
The bullies would break my pencils and my pens
And chase me around the playground  and back again
I used to draw rude pictures
Of my teachers in my books
Until A teacher stood behind me
And took a look.

Always in trouble why was it always me
I din't mean to put frog spawn in the head masters bag
And red hot chilli in his tea
I couldn't wait for the bell to ring at half past three
Then I'd run home as fast as I could
To have my tea and watch TV.

The only thing I learned from school was
Girls were different and horrid
And how to fight
And I'd arrive home battle scared
With a muddy school uniform
Almost every night.

I came from the wrong side of town
And my future was ordained
I now write from my prison cell
And every days the same.

I never became a brain surgeon
Or married a beauty queen
Became a rock star
Or commander of a submarine.

I'm just me
And that's all I can be.

Peter Dome.copyright.2015 Oct.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Teacher Creatures

I only learned one thing in school
And that was how to fight
The teachers were always so good at it
And they were always right.

One teacher was nicknamed spitfire
Because she'd spit as she spoke
All the teachers wore mortar board hats
And wore long black cloaks.

Always late for lessons
Always got the cane.
School books hidden in your trousers never worked
You had to feel the pain.

One teachers face got so red when he got mad
We only had a riot in class nothing unusual
Didn't think we were that bad.

Our sports teacher used to whack us hard
When we forgot our P,E kir
And make us run through nettles
In bare feet the hurt more than a bit.

In science we always tried to make a bomb
And leave the gas taps on
We'd make pea shooters from biro pens
And when the teachers were facing the blackboard
We'd shoot at them then sit poker faced wasn't me Sir.

We'd hide around building corners
To gamble and smoke a crafty cigarette
Until one day a teacher came around suddenly
With a water jet.

One teacher had an affair with an other teacher
With a very pretty one with nice legs and blonde hair
I used to dream about
In my fantasies she was mine
It just wasn't fair.

I was convinced they were not human
But came from some other planet one day in spaceships
And not cars
Maybe they were from Mars.

We'd put condoms on door handles
Let the teachers tyres down on their car
Sneak into the girls changing room for an eye full
And steal their knickers and their bras
Sing rude words to songs at morning assembly
Throw stink bombs in the teachers lounge
Draw funny pictures in our books  of our teachers with their trousers down. 

Sometimes  I'd be madly in love with a teacher or a girl pupil
And do nothing but day dream all day long
Skipping through fields of sunflowers hand in hand
Kissing like to clams under a tree all day long
Oh I was always in love with someone
And would often burst out in song.

I got good at forging homework diary signatures
Explaining why my homework wasn't done
It was always some far fetched story
Like I was chased by Atilla the Hun.

Ahh school days yes we were nothing more than savages
But the teachers were savages too
They should have changed the name school
To Human Zoo.

''I was a good boy I was''.

Peter Dome. Copyright.2015. June.

Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

sorry for the dirty laundry mom

I'm not wearing underwear
I can’t afford to clean my clothes
I shower every day
and sensitive skin from soap and psoriasis makes me itch
But I have bills to pay
I know you understand
Raising my little half brother and half sister
I've only met once
who are an ocean away
But this isn’t my story, it's yours
and the memories that remain

I know we've talked about it
Your pain and mine
About dad an alcoholic, and the abuse
and how you’re still attracted to it
But I still remember soo many nights
And soo many strange days

You dragged by your hair
I'll never forget
You thrown through the door
is embedded in my head
You with black eyes
you fell out of bed
The screaming 
The fights
I remember everything said
My name 
My brother’s name
Psychological abuse for you
soo long ago mom
You left and I don’t blame you
Years of you being cheated on
And dad would introduce us to his girlfriends
Easter holidays treasure hunt
While your husband was out betraying everyone

I know you know
That he talks poorly about you
And acts like the better man
But mom I remember
and you need to understand
What you went through
And the nights when I heard the door slam close
because you were fighting
and he told you to leave
That was how I met god in a sense
and always prayed for you to come back
Then finally I prayed for you sanity safety and for you to leave
And I would cry
as quietly as I could
cry myself to sleep
and chances are
dad either fell asleep
or went out in his drunken stupor 
to cheat on you again

The divorce is over
It’s been over for years 
But yet its still messy and I bite my tongue and remember
The night you came into my room
And told me you had to leave
I remember taking beer to kindergarten
Hiding it from you and dad
To throw it away
And my teacher in grade three finally asked
No lie mom
I had the same teacher in kindergarten and grade three
I could write an entire poem
about all of the people who shaped my mind
But I need you to see
When I come visit and am called an incest family man by your boyfriend
for giving you a hug
You’ve fallen into the same trap
And it’s like my own mother I’m not allowed to love

Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Free verse |

Why Teachers exist

Teachers exist,
to help us understand,
The beauty of the world and all its magnificence,
In hopes of cherishing all that we see,
and becoming a wonderful person with each discovery,

Teachers exist,
To be our pillar of support,
Embracing arms that we run into to confide,
They shield us from negativity as much as they are able,
So we can decide on how to fulfill our destinies,
Much like guiding angels from great fables,

One of God's gift to mankind,
The creation of teachers,
To lead and to instill values,
Harboring hopes of one day,
For the pupils nurtured and groomed,
To make the world a better place..

Copyright © Chandrasekar Singaram | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Resistance is Futile

He wanted to teach you something today
But you resisted his every effort.
You said school is boring, you hate it.

Minds engrossed in useless trivia,
Cold comfort in a job-hungry world
Echoing thoughts of seventies songs,
We don’t need no education.

He wanted to teach you something today,
To help you to grow, understand and improve.
Your rebellious refusal condemns you,
Another brick in the wall of ignorance.

In frustration, he took back his gift
Unopened. Resistance is futile.

Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Smart Little Johnny

It's a real story that happened in one school  
when a teacher appeared to be a complete fool. 
Once when a teacher of math was sick 
a teacher of physical education came, named Nick. 
He wanted to show how intelligent he is 
so he said: Solve my problem please! 
- The car moves at a high speed. 
To go to Spain a plane we need. 
How old am I if the plane now is high in the sky? 
- If to take all these tasks and mix  
we’ll get the result: You are twenty six. 
- Right you are Johnny! 
Your arms are scrawny but brain is brawny. 
How did you solve this problem so quick? 
For me it’s easier to break a brick. 
- Well, our neighbor being so sleazy is thirteen, 
and my mum says that he is a semi cretin. 

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

For Francine Roberts contest "Humor Me"

Copyright © Larisa Rzhepishevska | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |

Futyre child syndrome exposed

In a moment there was time a child could grasp corporeal and gracious
It stopped and I carefully gave non notice to educasees
that paused me to bleed blend assinine inaccurate aforementioneds
to preprocure a mule measured primrose pathos of interposes to analyze the ex ever jutaposes of irrevelant psuedo spawn spellings intrinsic of piss patterns nego 
nero nitro nuego of lunar literant intent grating gravity gunite givings presupposing cannon quantites quotient of add, substract, multiply, divide, die in my seat work consistent of soulservitude a prisoner of seatzenda, a great book read poised to a 
selling of elementary sealed solvent sedintary solices sleeveless saints of sanitary sectors sanctioning soulful sensibilities senitent of sailable sanities. Boys will be boys, ADD,ADHD a cool cover up for 80 % legis lay teachers to drugafy, deamplify, villify, castrate, humilitate, propogate the post predisposition of that which is normalcy to a degree of zombie cumulo butt compliance for the powers at be be-gone, biploar bulimec, blandering, blistering, bloging, bifurcating blog bog billows, stress all that is pharmacorelative with respect to the adultoparentive coaxial moneyisms that speaks to a bygone exoera of residio responsibile valiumviscous banailty. Cool calm creepy excel expenditures procede pre positive parental protocals procreating patterened presentials to predictive humo end hiatial hemorroids. In the end we prosperspire in pain pile potentials. Predictable predicates promise postmortem primal preordinates. Enjoy eating educational entrails!

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Time's Rising Pet Peeve

I am a teacher? That’s what you hope? If a teacher engages students learning what and why and how the teacher intends, and practices, mentors, co-walks the walk, then, no, I suppose I am not a nutritiously green teacher, so much as grayscale multisystemic decomposer of psalms, or I have too seldom been an effective teacher. On the other hand, I have known few teachers, or other full-octave spiral lovers, in my time. Yes, I do believe ecological regenerative mentors evolve Best Practice listening. But, even better are co-mentoring agreements, cooperatively derived covenants, InteriorYang with ExteriorYinYin, WinWin Health-Dialectic Syntax, to plant and care for our organic gardens as cultural languages, polyculturally conversing together, with Earth-regenerative intent. You might apply that full-wheel permacultural development process to your field your mindbody of incarcerated over-commodified and –domesticated adult nutritional values and negative, notnot-C-dipolar light-bionic square root system, (0)-squared-fractal with collective mental health issues and concomitant opportunities to balance our regeneratively spinning octaves of nutritional enculturation. Then maybe next year this Polycultural DNA/RNA Inclusive Party might all agree to teach others how to cooperatively transplant and care for our organic prisoner garden of economic neglect and toxic political overpopulation of self-empowering fat deposits reproducing Left-brain dominant sub-optimization, lacking WinWin full color-circle light and swimming in economic ecological health care challenges. Then maybe next year you would teach me how to apply this rich organic-fractal compost to my full four-seasoned work within an increasingly autistic anthro-centric world of peers and parents chronically killing and bullying polycultural DNA/RNA nondual co-arising eco-intelligence, form and information as Yang Convex Positive, midway balancing Yin-squared = Eulerian Prime (0) dipolar co-arising cross-fold-function square root of light’s bionic dialectic transparent revolution of light as Tao-time’s light/dualdark emergent CoPresence. I can't teach appropriate timing, but I know when it passes by.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

A Teacher should have Teacher-like Qualities

They sit gossiping 
around on chairs
Under shady walnut
Sh! Sh! Backbiting! 
Abusing! Loud laughing…
having fun!
A proud young man 
newly appointed
Abused his pupils in 
When I in innocence 
interrupted him
And reminded of his 
For the poor pupils I saw 
were waiting
Opening their books on 
their bags.

Another one, a Master, I 
saw was pulling his 
inferior female 
colleague’s arm
And dragging her in…!

A lecturer kissing his girl 
students on cheeks, 
whispering in their ears, 

A broad shouldered tall 
teacher would kiss and 
The plum-cheeks of my 
fair-looking class-
One among now is a KPS 

An old lame teacher,
A drinker, abused the 
pupils all the time,
Often sitting cross-
legged, lighting a cigar.

O! Let’s stop it here… 
but a sick Sikh 
Now I see had been 
highly communal
Would beat at prayer-
The poor pupils 
sweating in sun,
Without seeing  the 
And beating with willow-
twigs their soft thighs.

Thanks to the highly 
disciplined modern 
In private sector
But the curriculum be 
child centered
And not fatiguing and 

O O!  Recently I have 
heard of the teachers 
Who gave me a 
humiliating nickname,
One is shouting and 
hurling stones at people,
Another is dumbfounded, 
hardly talking to any one.
Whom have you hired 
Drivers and Boucher—
I wonder and I ponder…
But, let I at least protest.

Copyright © fayaz bhat | Year Posted 2014