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MARS May 2020
A word like no other.
The world next to a mother
No matter how far away I go,
She always has me tethered

To my roots, my culture. I never forget
That horrendous day we met.
A wee babby in his uniform, parrying
Away at first sight.

You carved every inch of a masterpiece
Which grew ever thankful to you.
Though never chanted,
Your sobriquet remains holy in mine heart.

Shall God bless you
And life bequeath its bliss
For you, are a soul…
Crafted to craft.
This intriguing poem written by MARS explains the unconditional bond between a good teacher and a student. A teacher plays a major role in every individual's life and is considered as one next to a mother. She teaches through all her difficulties and sows light into every student, ultimately crafting them into a masterpiece. This vivid detail is brought out to the reader's eyes by MARS.
In this day and age, there are standards of learning, not standards of living
We are told you must "live to learn" not learn to live in a world that is dominated by test scores and letter grades
What college you attend and what fraternity you're in
It's keeping up with Jones' and pretending to be someone you're not
to fit in, to win so we stay in disguise
But at the end of the day, it's a thick veil of lies.
We chalk up our life to things people think we should be
But what is it about me that people need to see?
That I'm a daughter...a sister...a warrior
Or I'm a son on the run with ambition in my veins.
We've got so much more to offer than the grades and projects we sustain
So look at me...can you see me through your red pen marked haze that I'm more...I am more than a score
Manfred Kriger Apr 2021
Knight
in armor
your pride and
your prejudice corrode
away the joints of your
armor. Rusted into a stationary
singularity you are but one 
moment in an indefinite timeline,
your moment  has passed and
will not collide with my
celestial being once more 
this galaxy is my
playground and
you are just
a spec in
time.
Jupiter Jun 2019
you haven't even left yet,
but i'm already missing you.
6 773 kilometers,
Thats an ocean to pass through.

its only been 8 months,
but it feels like my whole life.
now you're going home,
and we've run out of time.

maybe our paths will cross,
or maybe we won't meet again.
maybe we'll write more books,
or maybe this is our chapters end.

these months have been good,
you became my closest friend.
but now my heart is broken,
and i'm not sure that it will mend.

i don't want you to go,
sure we can call and we can text.
but its not the same,
cause who knows when ill see you next.
Google is the gift for
An inquisitive student,
Who is in search to
be knowledgeably potent.

Although it makes
One so dependent,
It bestows erudition
That is too consistent.

Google serves us with mail,
That saves our time to sail.
It’s services like the maps
Leaves a stranded person to bridge the gaps.

Gaps? Yes, it bridges the gaps
With all its possible apps,
The interests of the public
And concepts of the prolific.

When Google well handed
Our queries have added,
Whose possible solutions have multiplied,
For which the efforts been phenomenally divided.

With the transforming technologies
In this world of transience
Google has procured
Its own state of omnipresence.

Thus, Google has become the tool
With which the user can rule.
It endows as a surfing equipment
Hence, Google is the gift for a Student.
Off late, Google has become a man's right hand a guide and what not... well explained in the above poem.
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