Best Professor Poems
There once was a nutty professor
Who felt he was so much the lesser
He mixed in a beaker
The perfect Id-tweaker
Out popped a sharp-dresser successor.
Buddy Love was the coolest of men
Where once an old egg-head had been
But despite how he tried
The old prof couldn't hide
From his nature, or who he had been.
His honest intent from the start
To impress a young blonde, a-la-cart
But each potion he'd brew
Wasn't sweet or as true
As the man that she found ... in his heart.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Favorite Comedy Movie" Poetry Contest, Alexis Y., Sponsor.
Professor Paddock of virology was a stocky man
He observed a little beetle on the skirt of Messy Anne
He took out his double DNA space probe
Focused it on Anne's hepatic lobe
And leapt out of the window without any thoughtful game plan
The professor turned to me
What is infinity?
‘Neither the stars in the sky
nor the sand next the sea’
thought me
The answer, thus he:
‘Every thousand years
a bird picks up a single
grain of sand, oh-so-wee’
‘And even that
'is not infinity'
thus me
‘Jolly good!’
chuckled he
I decided I had had enough.
I felt put upon, and I was mad, and I was not going back to the counseling program.
I was only a year in, and there was no way I was going to put myself in this predicament another year.
It was not fun, and I am all about fun, and I could do something much more interesting, so I quit.
An unknown woman called me to ask me why I had quit.
This infuriated me even more.
I did not even know this woman.
She asked if we could meet.
I was mad and mean.
And it had been such an instant relief to let go of it, so the answer was no.
I lived two hours from that college.
I would never have to see these people again, and that was the idea.
This woman was persistent, and I sort of liked her phone personality.
So I agreed if she wanted to come to my town and buy me lunch, I would listen to her.
It was her idea to buy me lunch, not mine.
She came, and we hit it off immediately as if we had known each other our whole lives.
She was going to be the new professor, and it was her job to find out what was wrong and fix it.
I was lucky. She became my mentor, and I went back.
Not even reluctantly now, more optimistically.
Looking back, I know this was a God-thing as she only stayed one year.
The year I needed her there, so I could get my degree.
The next year Purdue snapped her up.
Smart thinking, Purdue.
That was twenty-two years ago, and I am forever grateful.
not only a few times
had I sketched
the pattern of your smile
in every swaying leaf
in every waning moonlight
in every wandering clouds
blowing softly to the west
but I ,
I couldn't sketch
the pattern of the wonder
in your deep brown eyes
and the secret sigh
you gently cast away
when you asked me a question
and I answered with conviction
Rewritten this March 10, 2022
For "The Throwback Challenge Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
Judged--N/A
Notes: This poem was one of my earliest poems written in 1994. Written during our " Partnership and Corporation Law" class. My professor was a perfect model for an oil-on-canvas portrait. But instead of sketching him, this poem was born and it was followed by some little poems which where published in our university publication," The Democrat".
My beloved friend and esteemed professor,
is it so wrong to worship and admire
you with so warm and glowing a splendor,
which is unbounded with heartfelt desire?
Your silhouette is my Achilles's heel,
and your lips (what lips those are!) dare I kiss?
Your soft skin glows with a warmth that reveals
to me a sensuality that I miss;
I am undone! For you are my dilemma.
My need for you is embarrassingly clear!
Must I extinguish this overwhelming fire
which I have for you? For you are most dear.
Were I not just a student or your friend,
could we be more before this sonnet's end?
Polishing our mind is one of your goals
Assist not only students but people around you
Unfold our minds into reality,
Lighten our spirits to dream and pursues more.
Just any other man you are full of sense of humor
Outside the class you are like a father to us,
Strengthen our hearts when we feel low
Encourages everyone to study and glow,
Professor inside the university and full of respect you showed
Helping us to understand every lessons you blow.
You may be just any ordinary man
And mistakes sometimes are done,
Taking every challenges to success be made
Rises from every failure you take
In the end, the top is meet and break
Cease every chances, every minute and every day
Keep dreaming, keep running and keep shining!
Hope this simple poem made you smile
And remember us for a while
Many thanks is what i can say
One time you became part of my days
Yielding us to better man someday!
Professor Gorey
always had a story
filled wit guts and grim
til most folks around these parts
those with their full share of smarts
asked her where she grows her monolithic glory.
Grim Reaper
is not my heart's keeper
and I thank you so for asking
just what I see as our life tasking,
to face our fears as monotheistic sleepers.
Professor Gorey
how could your story
of climatic strangulations
and cataclysmic slaughter of multiple reiterations
do other than make us monotonously snorey?
Earth's story can wake you up
if you drink Her with half-full inducting cup
rather than gulping with competition
while choking for want of cooperation
between what's contracting down
why's polytheistic up.
What is this mystery
we cannot see?
of breathing ego down while eco-up,
soothing prickly cats by playing gooey pups,
confusing what might become communion
with how we choose to competitively be?
You've asked me well
so I must tell,
my deep gory fertile mystery
of permaculture ecosystemic history
is what makes our regenerating health
co-evolve so cooperatively swell,
overcoming LeftBrain v RightBraun
disassociated hell.
Mixing a little potion here and there
Something strange is stinking
Why did they buy Luke that chemistry set?
What on earth where they thinking?
Nothing good can come of it
There will be trouble down the road
It is only a matter of time
Before we hear something explode
Luke is mixing potions
His formulas he perfects
I know he’ll want us to drink some
To see the side effects
We’ll all be covered in spots or something
Or all have bright blue hair
But now Luke is the mad professor
I don’t think he will care.
For that project is over for him
Those plans have now been hurled
Now he is onto bigger things
To one day take over the world..........Mwahahahah
At the top of the stairs there's a musty room
Full of curiosities weird and rare:
Seashells,
Hummingbird nest,
A globe of all the world,
A two-headed snake kept in a jar,
Newspapers from near and far,
Pinecones,
Octopus,
Drawers and drawers of butterflies,
A fossil rock,
Radio,
An ancient arrowhead,
Many, many books are there, just waiting to be read,
A portrait of a woman fair, his sister, I believe,
And up above your head you'll see
A swooping hawk--it's taxidermy.
Inspired by "Big Daddy" Edd Ingram's collection
27 August 2017
Thick glasses and buck teethed
bumbling, insecure, nerdy and meek
he got many laughs
blowing up his class
teaching chemistry with two left feet
Julius was tired of being prudent
wanting to attract his female student
so he drank his potion
feeling new emotions
becoming Buddy who was confident
Buddy Love was a suave singing snob
who attracted Stella and a whole mob
but Stella soon knew
from Buddy's clues
that he was giving her a snow job
So Stella fell for nerdy Julius
even though his looks he did not fuss
making her laugh
before and after class
Buddy now gone they both had enough
Down the hall they'd walk hand in hand
Stella his wife, Julius her man
with braces on his teeth
she kissed his cheek
dropping books which wasn't his plan
3-3-18
The Senile Chemistry Professor
By Elton Camp
On retirement old Doc did belong
But he stayed at the job too long
Although his students it did amuse
When ionic and covalent he’d confuse
Carbon in organics is never found
To them had a very strange sound
The dean didn’t know what to say
But the problem resolved one day
Doc took a drink and was no more
What he thought H20 was H2SO4
That tall professor
Taught us literary criticism,
Himself a competent critique;
Often quoted Shakespeare,
Iqbal, Mir and Rumi.
Looked really worried
For the unnoticed evils in society,
Wrinkled his nose,
Protruded his lips.
And I would recall with love
The Utopian society,
The two romantic-poet-friends talked of.
And once I showed him in his office
A short picnic-poem,
He said,
Ok! But improve your Thematic Concern.
And when I asked to please explain,
His unwashed, perhaps Peon
Interferingly said,
“It is easy! Bigger themes means
Subjects, a society’s benefited somehow!”
Has drawn all the bills
And left unknown, with a mere message
Through the coordinator,
“I have finished all their course of lectures.”
Ah! In twenty-minutes’ three lectures.
The days become years fading into life
a few tears, some laughs and many friendships
The brightness of your dedication will shine through
all the lives you taught and touched
What a wonderful life to reflect and build on
enjoy and be Blessed
Thank you.
Quietly you gather your stuff, eagerly awaiting the bell
so you could do what you were born to
Quickly, you gather your thoughts
hoping you have selected the best method to unveil and dissect this poem
Wittily, you engage the class
and we could not help but laugh and participate in the controversial discussion
You with your charismatic personality have made learning easy.