Best Instructed Poems


Premium Member A Poet Plus Teacher- PS

Was it a sheer accident that I became a poet?
Poetry, I didn’t pursue, rather it cropped up
As a late-night guest, quite unexpected.
A teacher’s career, I have been bent upon
And prefer to be known more as a teacher than a poet.

In my eyes, teachers are a venerable sort,
Happy that I could belong to that ‘special’ lot,
Instilling in young ones - newer insights gleaned,
Enriching their lives - with atoms of knowledge pooled,
Brightening their paths - with millions of lanterns lit,
Rowing them away - from the perilous shoals of life,
And leading them to be anchored on safer shores!
A teacher sure stands taller above,
Every other mortal who serves!!

Numerous are the guise a teacher has to put on,
And cleverer the tricks she has to play,
To tackle the wards in her all-out care,
And launch them out into a world to fare. 

I have played all at once myriad roles,
More of a mentor and not just a tutor,
A physician who heals, a nurse who tends,
A parent who cares or a pal who shares,
A patron who supports or a lawyer who argues,
A scholar who learns and a master who trains.


As Christ taught his disciples - with parables many,
As Socrates instructed the youth - through endless queries,
As Sullivan led Keller - to the new dawn of light,
As Aesop enlightened kids - with countless tales,
I strove to be a TEACHER.
An erudite soul with a mission!
A sculptor who sees an angel, veiled within a rock!
An architect building an edifice to last a lifetime!
A warrior uncompromising in war,
On Ignorance – the most ignoble foe!

I don’t know where I presently stand,
Nor do I know how my students would rate me,
Though often floundered or failed to act,
In the manner I ever so longed to do,
I would rather be a TEACHER all my life,
A ‘guru’ out and out, from hilt to heel.
And I would wear that mantle with pride!

Premium Member Blessed By God

My dearly beloved Sister in the Lord,
You surely are a great blessing to me and to others...
May this poem of tribute to and for you reverberate beyond our memories
Vanquishing oblivion that lurks to prevail.

Blessed by God with eternal life’s certainty
Redeemed, enjoying the Saviour’s assured security
Imparted with divine nature toward great spirituality
Guided thru the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and authority
Instructed to live by faith, trusting Christ’s immutability  
Driven forward to pursue the Lord’s will with sincerity:
A victor in the Master’s ministry; we salute you for your godly integrity! 

Moved by God’s love in serving with grace
Empowered with His strength to win in the Christian race
Nourished fully with His Word along prayer-brace
Directed for stewardship’s faithfulness all her days
Optimizing the Almighty’s offered opportunities of no delays
Zoomed toward heavenly goals midst hindrances’ trace…
A servant* of God in His church; we thank the Lord for you and Him we praise!   

This is a Birthday poem for this Sister's 59th birthday on November 13, 2018, with these notes: "Ma’am Edgie, A blessed birthday to you.  
Your life, spent for the Lord, is really a great blessing!"

I posted this on November 26, 2018 (Monday here in the Philippines).
It was November 28, 2018 Poetry Soup's Poem of the Day.
I was elated to learn about it...

Then, after I had my class in the Bible College, I was informed that Ma'am Edgie was called by God to be with Him in heaven on November 28, 2018, at 11:30 A.M. (Philippine time).  I bowed to God for His wisdom.  Indeed, He makes no mistake.  As for this beloved Sister, she will be missed... for her love to the Lord, to His work, and to the brethren.

*1Corinthians 7:22 For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman: likewise also he that is called, being free, is Christ's servant.

November 26,  2018
2nd place, "Last Letter to my Beloved" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 12/16/2018.

Premium Member Geneva Has Evolved

"Fragments and crumbs of life, 
                                  all the little pieces" 

                                 John Ruskin 1853


        Having lived with our Mom in Sydney for six months
        Federal Police returned us to live with our father 
        He had begun working as the art teacher
        at a small Christian school in Tasmania


He and other staff members lived at the school.  
I was 8, my sister 6. Geneva was experimental then. 
Elementary students were taught together in one hall. 
Desks divided from next, talk was completely disallowed. 


An American curriculum called ACE was adhered to. 
As the art teacher's daughter, naturally I washed all the brushes. 
Three utterances compiled in class per day earned detention. 
Despite it being 1991, rulers whapped knuckles on occasion. 


         Cherished butterfly catching buddy, best friend, Penny
         Fed apples from ample pile to fence wire necked horses
         Dawn saluting dairy sold milk for locals, chapel on site 
         Peers lived a wall away, an idyllic community lifestyle 


Generally, three afternoons per week, my father took
My sister on playground, shopping outings. 
I stayed home. Instructed not to go outside. 
Staff's children grassy antics gazed at through glass. 
                                                 


I ate vitamin c tablets by the dozen, and scrapings of butter. 
A staff member bought all our groceries from a limited list.
I sang for company. There was no radio or TV. 
My Dad and sister returned at nightfall. Chewing on sweets. 


     Alone in the house, I imaged it was a cruising ocean vessel 
     I sailed down the dim driveway, swamped by giant pines
     I took apples, a cow, a Bible, pencils for sketching horses
     Sailing on jaunty sun hugged foliage, I was captain



'Geneva Has Evolved' 
Constance La France 
All The Little Pieces Contest 

25th August 2020


Premium Member Warrior Horse of the Saviour-King

Awesomely white, amazingly glorious
Bible Revelation Horse* --- victorious…

   Carrying CHRIST from heaven celestial
   Driven for tasks, divinely essential…

      Enthusiastic, daring, energetic
      Fulfilling well roles that are prophetic…

         Governed by truth and wisdom of Scriptures 
         Hoisting faith along God’s kingdom ventures…

            Instructed upon righteousness' great stride
            Jumping over trials midst holy pride…

               Kingly Saviour’s Horse bearing gracious light
               Leading fellow stallions with goodness flight…

                  Mounting against evil for love to reign
                  Never neglecting duty of peace gain…

                     Optimizing strength as the Lord’s War Horse
                     Powerfully propelled by triumph force…

                        Quick to respond toward blest reaching-out
                        Readily hurdling tests of hardships- bout…

                           Steadfast and stable to smite sin downfall
                           Trotting above frustration neigh and call… 

                              Upheld to ascend via kindness’ speed
                              Vanquishing hate by Master’s loving deed…

                                 Winning favor of supreme Commander
                                 X-ing out loss, praising Servant Leader…

                                    Yielded to Creator Almighty
                                    Zealous joyful Horse toward eternity.

*Revelation 19:11 And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.

October 8, 2021
(Abecedarian in couplet form)

3rd place, "A Notable Horse" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 10/14/2021.

Coach Dad--Collaboration With Tim Smith

Coach Dad

It is a magic time when a child ventures
Into the world, spreading wings,
Beginning the oft painful process
of moving from the nest to the sky.

And it is a fragile time, where first experiences
Weigh heavily on shaping the direction
In which young life begins to move
And often whether it moves at all

It is a trying time, of fear and nervousness
One little step out on their own
The start of something bold and beautiful
The molding of a young child's eye

Much is made of parents and peers,
Oft unaddressed is the role of others
Teachers and coaches, a collective entity
Not dissimilar from fathers and mothers

The torch of responsibility being passed
If only for a brief moment
No more clinging to the safety and comfort
of what is already a norm and known

Encouragement or unkind words
So often a matter of chance and moods
Have mighty impacts on growing hearts
Precious opportunities to help a growing life

Young minds and hearts right on the surface
We remember our coaches, good and bad
Caring or not, patience or none,
The struggles, thin times and thick

A team of seven year olds
Is not unlike a litter of unruly puppies
How will they ever pay attention?
Give them a ball, a glove, and a game!

Pride, courage, athleticism, self-confidence
All showcased for the world to see
Taking turns and building bonds
Grasping much more than a newfound skill

If you can stand to be measured,
and fail by that measure, even repeatedly
But come back from it, you'll forever have
One more vital skill in life’s toolbox

One youngster will not win the game alone
But the team can, and its joy
Is multiplied many times over.
All these things and more can be taught.

Whether it be on the field or off
Teamwork, respect and camaraderie
Will forever be entrenched in the mind
Of a well instructed boy or girl

5/4/16
© Tom Quigley and Tim Smith

Premium Member Cerise Celeste

Do i see pictorial echo's of love 

in hues of pink? upon a heavenly ceiling,

 dramatic as the verse instructed from 

an eternity of muse's, conveyed in cloud valleys

 under their thunder headed bluffs 

outlined by faded magenta 

and rising in coloums of power 

or sense it within my need for colourful scenes

as light the the reflection of ashes grey

shadow my solitude, and daylight hours

 no! i know it is.! & within its silver sheening come..  

(from celestial realms,) this reflection of heavens flowers.


Premium Member I Sat Beneath a Veteran Oak

I sat beneath a Veteran-oak,
In awe of His strength—
Here was a solid spirit!
Sympathy you get from Willow,
But stiff upper-lip from old soldiers,
With forged bark —
His limbs flexed, cut, rippled against the wind…
No chinks in this warrior-wood…
“Divide and Conquer!”

Then I thought of my Father—
A cook at the end of the war—The Big One!
You know the One I mean, as if there are small ones—
When the commanders were through eating
He was instructed to toss the leftovers
From the belch of plates—
Trashcans were in the alley,
The steel that seems intrinsic to battles
In one form or another—
The hungry German children
Would sneak pass the guards
And line-up;
My father would sneak pass his superiors
And his honor
To dispense carefully wrapped scraps…
Well, soon the line was out into the street
As my father was compelled to seek food
From wherever he could steal, beg or barter
To procure—This brought attention—the cat-out-of-the-bag,
And all hell down on my father,
As the captain screamed: Gus, these are the enemy (the children in the alley),
What in God’s Name are you doing?
He was forced to stop—no Court Marshal though…

I looked up again at the old oak,
Through the snarled branches
Deep into the staunch soldier,
Where I spied a nest
In a small, compact fork—
Having a canopy of extra leaves
For shade and shelter from the wind—
I smiled—hum…
His bark reddened, but like my father, no apology from this weathered soldier…
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Her Hidden Gem

Mama sang while cleaning the house
Friends noticed her melodic voice
Outside, she hid behind her spouse
When he played the sax, she’d rejoice

The church choir was seeking talent
Her soft voice touched a man nearby
So to the choir master he went,
“It’s Wanda you need, but she’s shy”

Soon, at the instructed moment,
Choir members stopped singing mid-song
But mom continued, on she went
Exposing a voice hidden too long

Embarrassed, she stopped singing then
Her talent already revealed
The priest asked her to sing again
A rare gem no longer concealed

By Christmas she took center stage
A soprano singing Christ’s praise
Her shyness was now disengaged
Winning hearts with every phrase

No longer did she sing alone
Wanda’s sweet voice had won acclaim
Her confidence had finally grown
When she received well-deserved fame




*True event 
Written June 16, 2014

Premium Member I Am a Waiter

I Am A Waiter

     “I am a waiter,” the man said to me,
     “ I wait in a restaurant serving luncheon and tea.”
     “I am a waiter,” I said with a sigh,
     “Where do you wait?” he asked in reply.

     “I wait at the bus stop and wait for a train,
      I wait in the surgery and wait for a plane.
      I wait in the sunshine and wait in the rain
      And on a day with nothing to do,
      I go in to town and wait in a queue.
      Then at the Superstore I never can win,
      The next queue is quicker than the queue I am in.
      I wait in for hours as instructed before
      A van load of deliveries come to my door.”

    “A waiter in your restaurant?" I asked, "That would suit me.”
    “Yes,” said the man, “Now, just let me see,
     It’s thirty minutes for luncheon and fifteen for tea.”

Sacred Alter

“Teach me to pray,” I ask the Father.
He lovingly said, “Kneel down at my sacred alter”.
Looking around I could not see; where could this sacred alter be?
Then gently he instructed me his sacred alter was my knee.
In that moment it became the Holy of Holies.
Kneeling in humble prayer he assured me he would meet me there.
How sweetly he whispered, “Here you can always find me.
Here I will ever wait for thee, ever listening to hear your hearts plea.
It was with tear filled eyes that I finally understood that God’s alter is not made of 
Stone nor wood, but of a humble spirit and heart of love 



For Brian Strand's contest 
Any 2011 poem

Premium Member The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and I was awed by this pleasant sight:
JOY blurted mirth of blissful delight
Cheering HOPE to spread good wishes’ light
While FAITH props merriment upon truth-insight
Inviting PEACE to march with them upward victory-height!

‘Twas the night before Christmas and there was I beholding in amazement:
Values like GOODNESS and KINDNESS sharing their glad engagement
In distributing goodies with GRACE of helpfulness’ involvement
Along PATIENCE extending persistent endearment
Midst MEEKNESS in showing long suffering’s investment!

‘Twas the night before Christmas and I was exposed to the venue’s elegance:
Where I spotted LOVE wrapping presents with great abundance
Assisting was GENEROSITY whistling sweetly, devoid of arrogance
With them were GRATEFULNESS and PRAISE in their jovial extravagance
Being instructed by PRUDENCE and WISDOM thru their principles’ radiance! 

‘Twas the night before Christmas and I couldn’t wait to see grand festivity
Which the Christmas Author would reveal to me with faith’s certainty
In His compassion, He packed all those VIRTUES inside His SON’s humanity 
Born* as the SAVIOUR with GOD’s gift of life everlasting and triumph’s surety
Assured to all for owning and sharing toward eternity!

*Luke 2:11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

November 23, 2018
7th place, "The Night Before..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 12/8/2018.

Things New and Old

Therefore every scribe which is instructed unto
the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that
is an householder, which bringeth forth out of 
his treasures things new and old
Matt 13:52


We all have things we treasured,
kept them in our possession for a long time
Took really good care of them,
watched over them like a nursing father
or a doting mother
Then whenever we present them to someone,
they look like new
Miraculously new
It's amazing how those old things
still look the way they do
As for the new things,
over time they become old too
Things new and old,
when seen together, both look the same
Gleaming and sparkling
Like a coat of freshly layered paint
Things new and old,
they both look like shining gold
That is why the stewards of God are called saints
We keep the precious things of God,
placed in our heart,
looking brand new
They look the same way today,
as they did the first moment to us
they were given to

Premium Member Enoch

Enoch was the great grandfather of Noah and the father of Methuseleh and his book gives a unique view of the world before the flood, probably around 9,000 B.C. The name "Sumer" meant 'Land Of The Watchers' so Enoch probably lived in the area that is now Iraq. The book was lost for over 2,000 years with many ancient sources referring to it and even quoting parts of it but no complete copies were known. Then in 1773 James Bruce brought 3 copies back from Ethiopia having spent some years exploring there. Enoch had 2 main reasons for writing the book. The first was because The Watchers had instructed him to do it.  The second was to save his family from The Flood. 
Enoch wrote the book after his grandson Lamech was born but before Noah was born.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Content By Christ's Strength

Abased, I am content.
Hungry, I suffer need.
Feasting, I rejoice and feed.
Abounding, I am sent.

Abounding, I am sent.
Feasting, I rejoice and feed.
Hungry, I suffer need.
Abased, I am content.

Christ, You provide strength to endure
whatever is my lot.
As strength in You is sought,
my hope remains secure.

1-1-2020

Philippians 4:11-13 KJV

Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Wisdom Was Found

WISDOM WAS FOUND

The day moves me into this ultimate search
Of the principality that Lords over life
And rules over Kings, nobles, aged and Princes
As my desire yearns for that which is profitable to direct.
Steadfastly aiming to avoid the natural consequences
Invited by my wrong actions and life's fitful fall,
I grope for the path of the higher realm,
Then realise that even the word of God
Is searched and tried in the furnace of fire 7 times.
I surrender my eyes to her rebuke
And embark further into the land of the greats
Even the discouraging and slothful wind

Couldn't strangle my lamp
Amidst intimidating and daring storms
Where men's soul stagger not
But swaggers into celestial hall of fame,
Owing to grace, persistence and doggedness.
If only I find her, discretion will preserve me

From the perversity of the diabolic whose path is crooked,
I thought of the rags of time,
How I had stalled in movements in life's race
Where I was born to take the lead;
My heart cried for an ornament of grace.
Who shall then buy me one?
Still I hear no answer but one from me
Then I sell all that's within me just for her bosom.
Even my manliness and ego holds me not.
Who can withhold himself from speaking?
For real you have instructed many,
You have strengthened weak hands,
Your words have upheld him who was stumbling
And have strengthened the feeble frigid knees.
By the blast of God you were let loosed
And all your enemies are subdued and fade away.

God understands her way - ask Him 'how'?
And He knows her place - find it now!
For He looks to the ends of the earth,
And sees under the whole heavens,
To establish a weight for the wind,
And apportion the waters by measure
When a law was made for the rain
And a path for the thunderbolt,
Then He saw Wisdom and declared it;
Prepared it, indeed, He searched it out.
To men He said, "the fear of the Lord is wisdom
And to depart from evil is understanding."

Written by: Vick Manuel (VickWizzy)
Copyright© 2013.

Reference: New King James version (NKJV), Thomas Nelson [1978], copyright 1982, Job 28v23,28; pg301.

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