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Safana Sep 12
A white flower
wearing an eyeglass,
her eyelash rolled
Like calla lily,
her bright beautiful
sciera looks glassy
like, brown iris and
chocolate pupil rouned,
Stood up
her face
Brighten the Android
phone is softly touching,
when Funda closed the
shop door, she turn
her face to me
and she said
a beautiful flower
During my lifetime, teachers have been kings.
Mr. Ellison, with his football obsession, dared
declare the Father worse than der Führer.
Across the hall, Mr. Summerhayes gave us life
lessons, like adults have first names too.

Paul was next in line. A stoker of fiery debate –
he painted landscapes on political wings,
propaganda and the bluebirds of South Wales.
He tried his best but Pete pulled me aside
when depression began to blacken my mind.

Bigger steps made things more complex.
But he welcomed me back to his class,
always asked how my mother was doing,
embraced my erratic emails and career plans,
until we lost contact after his retirement party.

Now I write this poem from a pit of shame –
a decade on and my destiny remains lost.
Sometimes I meet royalty again in the shops.
My head is hung and my words are cut short.
I’ll never stop trying to be what you thought.
Poem #4 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. Originally written as a competition entry for Teacher Appreciation Week, I found the personal reflections included were too raw to throw away forever after being overlooked in the contest.
Tizzop Dec 2019
entering a classroom that
is not a classroom

my pupils inside: i haven't seen them for a long time
i want them to listen to me
yet the pupils aren't listening; they don't (want to) perceive me.
all the time i look at them, they look into another direction.

they aren't rebelling or trying to sabotage my lesson;
my lesson that isn't a lesson.

it's an encounter between an older person and
younger persons who aren't young anymore but
who haven't grown up yet.

the pupils changed into beings-in-between.

i can sense that they have become independent.
the pupils don't need a teacher anymore;
they aren't ready for making a living either.  

many teachers need to be needed.
most pupils want to be autonomous.

teachers will be disappointed by the end of a day.
pupils dislike school by the end of most lessons.

dear athena, that's wired. isn't it?
therefore we need to think about it. we need to ask ourselves:

WHAT has to be changed?
Have a great day at school. More or less.
Sabila Siddiqui Oct 2019
The whispers of tomorrow
tainted the marble walls as
the ones in the room painted
different shades and visuals
of their tomorrow.

The one with their hand jittery,
spine made of anxiety
stutter with their fear coated tongue,
the bouncing and rebounding words of
the chaos and panic of the heart;
the thought of uncertainty that
tomorrow dawns upon them.

As the word tomorrow is passed
on like a parcel amongst the ones sitting
the one with their pupils radiant
paints yellow and white
the hope a new day brings upon,
whereas the ambitious shouts
that she is a day closer to her goals
as she stands armored with passion and dreams.

The students have tomorrow
tattooed on their tongue,
a word that never comes
but morphs itself into the word procrastination.

But when it comes to me,
the moon dissolves into the sun
and the sun dissolves into the moon
as my yesterday, today and tomorrow become the same;
the shades of my life are painted all the same.
Mickey May 2019
Do it.
Rip my heart out.
Crush it into tiny little pieces.
Feel the warm blood dripping off your hands.
See it losing its power and making its last beat.
Look into my eyes.
Look deep, Look closely.
Try to say the word.
Try to push it out of your mouth.
Feel it on the tip of your tongue.
You can’t, can you?
For you will see in my drained and salty pupils that it is too late.
There is no way back.
I dare you.
Do it.
Keith Mitchell Oct 2018
season yourself
look for something sweet
illusion to some
challenge your love
it was in your eyes
you new it was there
noticing the reflection off my
spherical bodies
where the pupil is the judge
retina is waiting
passing along the thoughts
poetic rhythm
unspoken words
discernment in the subconscious
scrutiny creeping in like salt
added to concrete
will eventually crumble
into a sandy foundation
sinking you into self doubt
for my thoughts remain sweet
searching for unconditional love
for it will only exist
when parallel
universes collide
with belief
for what you think is unimaginable
is imaginable
once you decide
control your own destiny
you’ll rule your kingdom
like tomorrow doesn’t exist
keep it dialed energy doesn’t lie
Marg Balvaloza May 2018
sa kalaliman ng iyong pagtingin,
hindi maarok,
damdamin ko'y muntik nang malunod
aking nakita, ang ‘yong pagkatao
sa'yong mga mata,
mga matang kay ganda,
mga matang nababalot ng kahiwagaan at pagsinta.

sa kalaliman na iyong pagtingin,
aking narinig, yaong mga salita,
mga salita na bago pa man sambitin ng ‘yong mga labi
ay narinig na ng aking puso,
na tila nagbigay kabuluhan sa damdamin
at nagdulot ng kapayapaan sa aking pusong balisa;
mga matang kay ganda
na tila nangungusap,
wala, ni ano, kahit anong salita—–
binasag ng ‘yong katahimikan, kaguluhan sa’king isipan.

sa kalaliman na iyong pagtingin,
mundo ay tumigil,
nabihag ang damdamin,
aking nadama, dalisay na pagkatao,
sa'yong mga mata,
mga matang kay ganda
mga matang nagrerepresenta, sa makulay na buhay,
mistulang mga krayola
na nagbibigay kulay
sa malamlam at matamlay /// kong pamumuhay.

"He looks at me and his brown eyes tell his soul."
P.S. "Balintataw" is the tagalog word for "Pupil."

Poetic T Feb 2018
A man of knowledge
    can be learnt, even though taught.
For the teacher who
           has forgotten there lessons,
Must learn new ways from the pupil..
scar Jun 2015
my drama teacher told me when i was fifteen
you say ‘you’ when you mean ‘i’ if you know what i mean
she was right, she was right
what she said wasn’t a lie
she said stand up on the table
over there and close your eyes
and lean back, lean back
into their waiting hands
just do it, just do it girl, you’ve got to understand
this is life, this is drama, it’s a trust exercise
i refused, i refused to comply.
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