Long Professor Poems
Long Professor Poems. Below are the most popular long Professor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Professor poems by poem length and keyword.
I await your arms
even when you are in your office room
I don't interrupt
I know you are enveloped in your work too
But when I get done
with my own work
my first thought is of you
what are you doing?
Would you mind the intrusion too?
Should I pop on over?
Just to see if you are ready to eat...
Knock on your door
and interrupt that deep retreat
I know your inner sanctum
is a place you relax
A space all your own
you can ponder
your deepest thoughts
loose yourself in thinking
lay out deep quests
conquer your greatest challenges
plan out your sphere
I love hearing what you are thinking
your analysis of the paths
the complex ways you challenge yourself
the questions that have you wrought
No one else I know is pondering these
its like you are miles ahead
dealing with complexities
on things we don't even know to dread
[outro]
How did you become such an egghead?
I will never know
a real Point Dexter
And its not some act you put on for show
Its just you..
its what you do
Professor Mosh Pit
Mr deep analytical sh^t
How the hell did I meet you again?
Its a wonder I admit
So glad I did
So so glad I did
Lets get onto the next chapter
We have a lot to do
Just me and you
and the doodle do
gargoyles too!
Love you
[end]
The recent lockdown certainly made family the center of everything - from fun to daily irritations. But after a month of being at college - which I know, objectively, isn’t long - those memories seem like echoes from another life.
I love the sudden privacy college has provided - like I’ve personally rediscovered something seemingly new.
I get calls from high school friends who were close as skin a few short weeks ago and there seems to be a disconnect which certainly isn’t because they’ve been “replaced” with new friends.
I’ve always been slow to mesh with new people so I’m trying hard to look engaged in social situations. “Get OUT there and meet people!”, everyone tells us. So I’m working on it - practicing my best fake, friendly smile in mirrors for when deep down inside I want to run.
At least I’ve hit it off with one of my suite-mates, Leong (thank god). She‘s from Macao, China (the “Las Vegas” of Asia) which is about 41 miles from where my family used to live in Shenzhen. When I started talking to her in Cantonese she shrieked with joy - now we can evaluate everyone and everything with delightful discretion.
My classmates are SO smart that classes move really, *REALLY* **FAST**.
“Everyone got that?” the professor says, *no frantic hands waived*
“Moving ON!”
If I daydream for 30 seconds - I come back and - “WAIT, huh? - what are we talking about?” It’s not like high school at ALL - it’s actually scary.
So I’m moving on.
My friend, a mobile encyclopedia, professor
Used to talk about life and death like a philosopher;
When I die, I like a living, will see by mine own eyes,
Who visits me; who smiles; who laughs; who cries;
He was a great personality, like Socrates, indeed,
He was punctual and regular in his every deed;
He said, in the beginning, that philosophy is everything…
Then he said, psychology is intertwining;
Then he talked of prayer, which is overall,
Ultimately he found sleeping-pills all in all;
I did not attend his funeral for the reason:
If he opens his eyes and sees what's my position...
22 November 2021
Uninspired, 'tis a search for Shangri-La,
It's much ado, I mean, don't you think so,
All of this bruhaha, just fools would go,
To this La La Land, --no 'tis other La.
Well, if fools have time for frivolous things,
Let it be theirs, not ours, a game of chance,
--It does seem charming, a touch of romance,
Oh no, a fool's errand, what of your bling's.
--What say you, we both got money, let's go,
'Tis a slide of the hands, all done with mirrors,
Pulled out of the hat, it's flawed with errors,
Yet, you are my friend, answer, that you know.
Let us hire some guide, and one from those schools,
--From the universities, a teacher,
I believe they are called professor, --err,
--Now history, and dishwashing, two fools.
2019 September 22
howmanysyllables
16 lines x 10 syllables = a perfect 160 syllables
Stranger things beacon
these young teen agers
when a bald-headed
professor
saw them individually-telekelically
a girl a Marvel girl
she could perform miracles
can read minds nothing can be hidden
from this red head beauty
next,...
a cool tween miss guided a little mean
pick on lonely so he spend his youth
frozen, he couldn't be nice
so he was iced, a Iceman
next...
kinda athletic
sort of pathetic
funny somewhat elongated big hands
big feet
Hank the hairy Beast
next...
a hot head or should I say
He has an EYE
for destruction he had better not look at ya
Cyclops
next last but not endangered
Rich boy at least his parents are
His name he goes by is Angel
The wings on his back, shedding sometimes feathers in his lap
These teens are strange yes
Gathered together being trained in the DANGER ROOM by
Professor X
mutants in kind
Beyond humans my oh my
Together teen mesh
these are
the
XMEN
11/04/17
WRITTEN BY James Edward Lee Sr. POETMAN -->X MAN
We should do something Professor Hoose Gooser said.
Of course this was years ago, today this old coot is dead.
It is too late now said the new believers. We will be boiled alive.
You are all crazy said the ignorant. They numbered a million and five.
Climate change is a myth, the Redowner Drippers replied.
Okay agreed the Sniff Puckers, but our relatives are boiled alive.
Fake news! Screamed the Hillbillingers. Shut up you dumb clucks.
We were irritated now, especially my scientific Uncles, the Chucks.
Should we build a bomb shelter underground? People would ask.
This was done in the fifties and it was a most arduous task.
Professor Hoose Gooser appeared to me in a dream the very next day.
It is too late, he told me. Grab your ankles, jump off a cliff and just pray.
The Professor settles in and says, “Let’s go around the circle and introduce ourselves”
We listen to resume after resume of unbridled accomplishment. Then he points to me.
“Hi, I’m Anais, I’m a freshman, from Georgia, and I have mad skills. I can b*tch about anything or feign complete indifference. I can give the impression of depth or play the ditz. I can pick the slowest line every time and I’m so good at sleeping I can do it with my eyes closed.” I finish and give the professor a head tilted “anything else?” look.
“Uhh,” He gives me an amused look, “thank you Anais,” “Next.”
I’m in an an environment where pretentiousness can run amuck
.
.
PS, I have short stories too. =]
Precocious precious pink unicorn had a priceless smile.
Precise and pretty, it could light a road for over a mile.
Prancing ponies paraded alongside her in her dream,
Practically princely, proud of her pink perfection preen.
Pandas, pythons and parakeets did not understand at all.
Priceless precious pretty unicorn paraded pride that fall.
Perhaps Professor Pony can enlighten the other folk,
Philosophical purple pony suggested to the elm and oak.
Pleased, polite and pretty, pink unicorn is okay already.
Providing people with explanations are problematic, Teddy.
Precocious precious pink unicorn was happy to have a friend.
Psychologically sound, these two ended up together in the end.
flatness__ charged words.
bellowed//out\\wardness
i chashed utterfly
wing : eXPLOSING butter memory
_(ubble Head > -- huggly
faceSMEARED tears OF NO
path/ i .AUGH caught
said she/he said \
she left: oh no said HE:
the divine i spoke \ i was
that never good| the skin of
my animal ... of all these
of all silence and experienced
traveled. How my eyes are fingers
pelted skillfully rolled. Then,
within my heart; to be never without
that fate of a beating drum inside
my chest. A beautiful nature of
round Moon and square Sun sings
as you. Love is that deepest root
of a breathing sky of life/how higher
is glorious wonderous that I carry
this heart.\ I could ponder my poems
professor/ These sharp teeth and carve
eyes as a cat of nine times to die.
How many have tried. Gentlewoman
and ladies.
:: 11.01.2021 ::
I must report that the Professor of Anthropology was more interested in how extinct prehistoric man, more specifically, Neanderthals, lived and why they didn’t survive. They seem bigger with bigger brains from the fossilized records. To her, it just didn’t make sense. So, she bought an island in an undisclosed location (classified) to create an unsanctioned closed environmental experiment inspired by recent advances in archeological biogenetic engineering. She intends to create not just one but a whole community of Neanderthals. So, she can study them, up close and for real, to see if there’s anything to genetically encoded inheritance.
It’s been six months since she announced her findings to the world. A special envoy has been dispatched to investigate. Upon touchdown on the sandy shores of the island, this journalist must deviate to announce, “What the ...?” For high up on top of the bank was a common lemonade stand with a little Neanderthal girl sitting behind a sign in front reading, “5 shells for my Galactic Transport Juice (special in-house formula)!!! DRINK UP NOW!!! Before the next MASS GLOBAL EXTINCTION Event!!! Only 5 shells!!!”
It’s like she was waiting for us. And she was alone.