Sharon
You're more than just a lady
You're selfless, loving, kind
You've molded me with all your heart
You've opened up my mind
You taught me how to hit the notes
You taught me how to sing out loud
You taught me how to stay in rhythm
You taught me how to face the crowd
You're my companion through the stanzas
You made me sing the chorus well
Whenever there's a flat refrain
You are my hope though I can't tell
And when my lonely song fades to die
You are my hope to stay alive
When I'm afraid to cross its bridges
You're always there to be my guide
Oh Sharon, my Sharon
More than a teacher and a friend
Oh sharon, my Sharon
I hope someday we'll meet again
You, AI and me
Are preparing the world to make free
From the obstructions of learning
Building the era of a new beginning!
You, AI and me
Burning old fashioned paper of thee,
Take thou to mobile's touch screening
Demolishing your habit of imagining!
You, AI and me
Being in virtual classrooms with glee,
Stare together human teachers leaving
With their emotions and love preying.
You, AI and me
Are now happy to be carefree;
None is left for scolding,
No one for caring!
Is your school happy to be prevailing?
I’m just a cackling controller
(sit straight, listen, stop talking)
Until I stop to look into your eyes
It’s the wonder in them which makes me a teacher
I’m just a watching monitor
(settle down, take your things, write neatly)
Until I stop and pay attention to your work
It’s the magic in your hands that make me a teacher
I’m just a juggling joker
(quick, time up, I have another class)
Until I sit with a sigh and a stretch and a sip(of coffee)
It’s my reflection that makes me a teacher
It’s not what I teach
It’s not what you learn
It’s the bond we share that makes me a teacher
I’m a nobody until you accept and let me into your hearts
I’m not a teacher until You make me one.
In a room stitched with silence,
she stands—face painted, lips sealed—
mirroring worlds with invisible walls,
a language of gestures no one translates.
Here, speech is a fragile rebellion.
Her fingers sculpt stories midair,
but the crowd wants laughter without edges,
pantomime without questions.
She remembers classrooms—
words trapped in chalk dust,
voices pressing her into corners
too tight for dreams to unfold.
But tonight, her throat hums with risk.
A single word—listen—
spills into the hush,
breaking the rhythm of practiced quiet.
They stare. The room inhales.
And she, unmasked, speaks again—
a voice cracking through the glass of stillness,
rewriting the script they gave her.
Now the walls dissolve.
The stage blooms wide with sound and breath.
A mime no more, she claims her noise,
filling the silence with her own story.
Oaring through the vast ocean of knowledge,
Tiding through currents with courage,
Diving deep to find pearls of wisdom,
Guiding with a prism through the kingdom.
Patience woven in each fabric,
Kindness poured in noble tactic.
Teachings unlock closed door,
Musings reveal so much more.
In the era of Google and AI,
Information at the fingertips, oh my!
A mentor is irreplaceable,
Moulds futures, so impeccable.
Lately, I've cut away hectares of tumors.
That engulfed confidence, happiness, self-worth, and well-being.
With surgery, a bit of the good stuff was sacrificed:
A few shallow laughs, some adventure, and mostly harmless mischief.
The mirror is filled with scars of the heart, excoriations of spirit.
Along with other, yet-to-be-discovered damage.
Though somewhat deformed, I like my new look.
I feel tiredly refreshed.
The scalpels are dull and quiet for now.
There's work to be done.
Some of the newly homeless tumors are mentoring new ones.
I'm no fool and fully aware that I'm also a tumor to others.
Mrs. Marvel wore sweatshirt for twenty-eight years until her final breath.
Signed by her 8th grade students, four whom had died a tragic death.
Killed in a tragic bus accident on the way to a state cheerleading rally.
They met her at the pearly gates – Linda, Cherry, Patrice and Molly McNally.
Live To Die Another Day
Forced to fight
The Gladiator Way ...
They killed a woman
They killed my friend
We fought one another
To The End
I'll never forget
Her kindness in me
Her selfless sacrifice
She saved my life
Do you see
She trusted in me
That I was strong
To survive
To run
A promise
Of Liberty
They killed a woman
They killed my friend
We fought one another
To The End
"Having received this precious love letter
I'm thrilled that I feel vibrantly better…
Will you guess, my friend, who the sender is?
Cheering now my heart, filling me with bliss???”
“Knowing how your countenance does express
The jubilation no gloom can’t suppress
I may just wonder and with you rejoice
Since to be happy always marks your choice.”
“Oh, I’ll give you clues that can serve as guide
So other options you must set aside…
Now, first… ‘successful’ describes the person
Second, ‘grateful’ for every learned lesson.”
“I’m sure of my answer, as I say: ‘Wow’
Since your letter sender is with us now…
Having written me words of gratitude
Thanking God for teachers' kind servitude."
"So we received same letter; that's so sweet
From our students who will give gracious treat
Greeting us with 'Wonderful Teachers'* Day
The Lord be praised that you directed our way!'"
*1 Corinthians 12:28 And God hath set some in the church, first apostles, secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers...
October 18, 2023
2nd place, "Get into the conversation" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 10/20/2023
Amazed to learn about the Almighty’s goodness
Blest hearts of ours praise God with gratefulness
Cared for by teachers who instill wisdom’s fullness…
Dear mentors, thanks so much for your diligence
Enriching us with lessons amidst patience
Fervently imparting virtues of blest prevalence…
Gearing us toward character development
Hoisting constantly our literacy advancement
Influencing carefully steps toward great achievement…
Jubilantly, we greet you, “Blessed teachers’ day”
Kind are you with your leading to the right way
Loving us as your children who long for truth’s ray…
Ministering* teachers, continue with Your guiding role
Nurturing us, your students to attain functional goal
Opening great opportunities toward good success pole!!!
*Romans 12:7 - Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering: or he that teacheth, on teaching.
September 22, 2023
2nd place, "Voice" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 9/24/2023
Takes time to tackle talented students,
Enriches knowledge and encourages
Achievers with artful abilities,
Creating curiosity with care,
Humble, helping mould holistic humans,
Enlivening energy never ends,
Reaching out with remarkable results.
Triggering Extra Affection, Cultivating Hearts, Etching Recognition
On this event of teachers day
We take this time we have to say
We say thank you
Teacher's for everything you have done
Without you, doctors, engineers, lawyers and more
There would have been none
You treat us all like daughters and sons
You make us bright
Brighter than the sun
plethora of cakes and pies arrive
irregular shapes and forms
works of art
each mother outdoing herself
to show off for her darling children,
teachers week never tasted so great
The pleasure puzzle?
Have to walk in the mild tide
I can't figure it out
The riddle I fiddle
Multiplied hysteria
The middle to render to figure
The splendor serender
I'll die I've tried I've cried
Foundation of ecstacy
A burst of exhilaration
Extra eroticism
A pleasure prison
Take heed with glee
The principal of a perfect
Pleasure puzzle
To mention distinction
And so sustain me in the
Valley of contagious orgasmic
Oblivion the pleasure puzzle
Of particular problems of
Obvious probable riddle
Combinations the frustration
Joyous luster of satisfaction.
I believe the past shapes our stories
Into a future born of history
Woven in the tapestries
The fair hand of undulating poetical landscapes
A golden thread of music warms our soul
We share with our children
That they may have the tools too
To shape their story
A better version of you. ..
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Definition | What is Teachers Day in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.