Long Counselor Poems
Long Counselor Poems. Below are the most popular long Counselor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Counselor poems by poem length and keyword.
Thanks Mommy
I was exasperated
It was the same lad
He sees me daily
He surely does not have this many troubles
I said "Unless someone has died, I cannot see you today".
Felt worthless when he said his uncle had died.
Said "Honey, I am sorry. Come right in."
Studied his face solemnly. Was silent. Gave him a chance.
Nothing came forth, so I asked "When did your uncle die?"
We don't know, he told me. We have not found his body yet.
What happened? I queried.
We went to his cabin this weekend, the eight-year-old told me.
We knocked and yelled and hollared.
Uncle Jack was nowhere.
Mommy looked at Gus's water bowl.
She said "See that water bowl?"
"Your uncle must be dead. That dog is never out of water."
I had to control my face, because he was totally serious.
And I now felt like the worst school counselor in the universe.
Thanks Mommy.
Your every whim, your heart's desire
Dream of Dreams comes from higher
God birth that in
You your tender nest
Your patience
Your words of Praise bless me days on days
A gift of helps yourself, respects all blameless
God verse that in you your warm smile
Just calmness here Bears love, joy, peace, happiness, you're a way with words
That must be heard God verse
That in you those cords you played a Sweet Serenade music from the Lord words Also is your every whim your heart's desire
God verse that in you I pray as peace it is now released
And heard words so dear means more than man's ever greatest biggest fears God burst that in you and the glory is it's all his and the glory is its all gives from The one above
It all comes from God the gifts in you
Tho your mother, helper, teacher, preacher, brother the gifts in you a builder Receiver, listener, counselor I pray as peace it is now released
And I heard your word so dear means more to me that man's biggest fears
The gifts in you what you do
You know it's true don't delay nor take them to the Grave God birth that in you Release the gifts today you're everywhere
While your heart's desire dream, dreams of Dreams comes from higher
God birth that in you
I am playing in the kinesthetic sand pile
With a child who has never professed to like me
I have done my unusual best to like him though
I believe he has come around today
When we share some stories and a couple of laughs.
He is a fourth grader who despises Chick Filet.
I despise Chick Filet myself, so we establish commonality.
I give him a time limit.
If I don’t, they want to stay all day.
I am the counselor.
My “gig” is playing.
I ask him if he has any questions for me.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” He asks.
“I want to be a race car driver,” I reply.
He nods. “I thought that was it.”
Great start to a Friday.
There's somebody who is like a father,
he has a divine resemblance with Jesus:
merciful eyes and encouraging words:
woe to him if he does not preach what he says;
many young men have been easy prey for priests,
even Pope Francis couldn't cover up their lies...
and portray them with an image that doesn't err!
If Christ forgives, so we must forgive as Christians,
should those priests do it again: it would be hypocrisy;
they'd be better off cutting their hands than commit sin,
they should fall on their knees and ask God's forgiveness...
never be allowed to practice their hypocritical religion again:
men are weak souls and their actions lack sensibility!
There's somebody who is like a father and a truly devout,
and he fervently prays with folded hands for everybody,
should his intentions be evil, he would commit heresy;
leaving a scar on a boy's soul is a proclamation of the death
and having enough courage to protect himself: it's his right.
Recognize the signs of abuse and act with stealth...
don't resort to doubts and contradicts the child's revelations,
sit down and be a good counselor: listen to his emotions!
If Christ told us to love children for their innocence and ingenuity,
don't let these monsters ruin their young lives with indignation;
the perpetrator will pay both on Earth and Heaven,
if he reads the words of the Gospels and ignores them constantly:
let damnation fall on him and torment his vile flesh until he dies,
it's better to be ashes than a corpse that horrifies!
I am playing in the kinesthetic sandpile
With a child who has never professed to like me
I have done my unusual best to like him though
I believe he has come around today
When we share some stories and a couple of laughs.
He is a fourth grader who despises Chick Filet.
I despise Chick Filet myself, so we establish commonality.
I give him a time limit.
If I don’t, they want to stay all day.
I am the counselor.
My “gig” is playing.
I ask him if he has any questions for me.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” He asks.
“I want to be a race car driver,” I reply.
He nods. “I thought that was it.”
Great start to a Friday.
Let me be, as God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf, nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon, nor an angel,
But a true woman.
Never, I yearn to be the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring,
Though at times touchy and itchy
I yearn to be:
A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
An all time student and a teacher
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night
I yearn to be:
An abiding spouse in whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,
I yearn to be:
An adorable mother to my children
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love
Piecing together these different roles
Let me into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life,
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!
In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
Submitted for Bian Strand Free verse
Poetry Contest
I have worked in ten schools as a school counselor.
I have had twelve administrators over twenty-seven years.
This one was the quintessential ridiculous administrator.
Let’s call her Dorothy Doo Wrong.
Dorothy Doo Wrong compartmentalized grades 3rd-5th.
This ensures teachers never get to bond with their class.
It is impossible to bond with children you only see half the time.
Dorothy Doo Wrong says no matter what you are supposed to say
“You are not in trouble.”
Teachers need to practice this, for the times that a student might
hit someone, hurt someone, or kill someone.
And you should never act angry.
I was doing lunch duty once when a child put another child in a head lock.
It thought he was going to choke him to death before I could get there.
He argued with me in a yelling way when I told him to go to the office.
When I used a walkie-talkie to say “child has another child in headlock,
I am sending him to the office, DDW said “okay.”
Two seconds later a child in the lunchroom threw food.
I picked up the walkie talkie and said “Sending student to office for throwing food.
Dorothy Doo Wrong yelled “I AM COMING DOWN THERE!”
She came with the head lock choking kid. Gave him another chance.
Later I was told she LOST her COOL when head lock choker did it again
and then the food-thrower threw food.
Wish I could have been there.
A time of strong demands from noble Kings
Chosen; mentor “The One” altering things
Stood by his side wholly subservience
In day’s dusk end and bend to his defence
That I mere prophet son of an angel
To honor these guardianship faithful
Shrouding magical powers to behold
Among the young, I never to grow old
Beyond the chambers heap Kilgharrah sleeps
in a cave deep within the tower’s keep
A lone; Survivor of a thousand years
And a thousand more populace will fear
Deceived, imprisoned his bellow thunders
No one could free the world’s greatest wonder
To purge magic from the realm that admires
To sever burn in the heavenly fires
Whispers his name as he slumbers, “Emrys”
Warlock charmed by dragon’s lore and riddles
A wise, trusted counselor and brother
Destined to mentor and guard King Arthur
2/24/2017
Poetry Contest: Form I - Contest(with a theme)
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
DREAMING OF CHRISTMAS
characters on chairs,
ring-a-round-the-rosies.*
in-tro-du-cing…
mr. claus, mr. frosty, o. deer, and self e. elf
silently a counselor ticks notes with a pad and pen,
occasionally, taking a one minute christmas snooze.
dully, he asks, “so what are you boys in for?”
midlife crisis santa goes first, “the kids used to believe,
send me letters. now they send emails.”
then he yells, “old man claus doesn’t understand computers!
woe is me! i’ve been replaced by amazon,” he drolls on.
mr. frosty, on the other hand, thinks himself a cool dude,
but worries all the time. he dreams he’s drowning on a summer’s day.
o. deer, chimes in with a harness shake, “nobody likes me.”
he squeaks timidly, as he takes pictures with his new red nose.
i’m trapped in a dead end job, rasps the elf. claus squints
his eyes and self shuts up.
“well, back to work boys," says santa! because you better believe me
when i say, i won’t foot another bill!”
“aww santa, you do this every year.”
the counselor wakes up to a room without decoration or a tree.
he rubs his eyes, “funny, i had that same dream last year!”
12/18/2016
*children’s song
Work is my play.
It's a time to be with people and laugh and sing, and teach children how to love themselves.
Work is my sword.
It's heart-felt, and natural, and exciting as things are always being thrown at me.
Work is my life.
Here is an example of what could happen and did:
One time a particularly needy urchin wanted to see me on a daily basis and probably on weekends.
His teacher was eager to send him,
for when she did, she could get a little teaching done.
He was darling, but he did not know it.
No one at his house had told him.
The nineteenth day he showed up, I said, "I'm sorry, but unless someone in your house died, I cannot see you today."
A really smart thing for a school counselor to say, for guess what? He said, "Someone did die."
I apologized profusely, wrapped him in my arms, and plunked him onto my lap as we fell into my office chair.
"I am so sorry, I said. "Who died?"
"My uncle."
"When did this happen?"
"I don't know. We haven't found the body yet."
"Then how do you know he died?"
"We went to his house on Saturday and we knocked and knocked. Then we looked down and Mom said, "See that cat food dish? It's empty. Your uncle must be dead."
Try to keep a straight face now, folks, because that is what I had to do. Then I telephoned Mom, and let her tell her son the miracle, that Uncle was alive.
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