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.
My Teacher Is The Light Of My Life
Birds sing sweetly in the morning
The sky is clear without clouds and blue
My teacher came riding a bicycle
Bring useful knowledge
For our beloved ones
My teacher gave me a role model
Without tiredness or time
The light of your lamp will always live
Illuminates every step of the journey
Your knowledge will be useful throughout your life
My teacher told me
When you grow up you will become a useful person
To the nation
I pinned the message in my heart
All your services will never be forgotten
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 wellbeing.
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 much more work to be done
as 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 ...
I killed a woman
I 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
I killed a woman
I killed my friend
We fought one another
To The End
AFTER CUMMINGS POEMS
These are poems I wrote after the poems of e. e. cummings...
teacher
by michael r. burch, age 16-17
teacher, take a look at my life,
for it has just begun
and u think that i am “misinformed”
merely because i'm young;
but the truth is often hidden
(what lies lurk behind ur eyes?)
and maybe Puff can tell u
where the Dragon flies.
teacher, take a look at my life:
urs is a dull-edged knife
(the white-hot blade long blunted).
now ur as cold as ice.
still, when u come to class,
act like u know it all,
for if u show insecurity,
surely wee will folderol.
I wrote "teacher" in either 10th or 11th grade after hearing the song "Old Man" by Neil Young. "Wee" is a pun, not a typo.
don’t forget
by michael r. burch
for Beth
don’t forget to remember
that Space is curved
(like your Heart)
and that even Light is bent
by your Gravity.
The opening lines of my poem were inspired by a famous love poem by e. e. cummings.
Keywords/Tags: e. e. cummings, teacher, teach, teaching, teachers' day, student, school, class, eduction, space, curved, gravity, heart, love
"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. ..
Related Poems
Definition | What is Teachers Day in Poetry?