"instructor" poems
When I was little my mother put me in several ballet classes in hopes to bring some grace to my stumbling gait.
I grew up walking on eggshells, wobbling to keep my balance on a tightrope that never really ended.
My instructor pinched my thighs and shook her bony finger at me every tuesday and thursday for three and a half years.
4 am, I'm still tiptoeing around the creaks in the stairs as if anyone would notice an empty bed.
This Christmas I came across the broken reminents of the ballerina ornaments my younger sister used to play with.
I never did master the delicate posture I was expected to adopt. My feet fell a bit too heavy, I suppose, on the ice tonight.
I'm not cold anymore, just exhausted from attempting to balance the wrong things for too long.
My life is flashing before my eyes, but all I see is a younger version of myself practicing Grand Battements on thin ice while everyone slept.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
Tip of the hat in recognition
To all devoted women and mothers,
Your love, care,strength, and devotion
Knows no bound like earth's weather
Like the morning star you shine
And lit the path to life;
Like a great messiah you fine
Rest for the family you have.
The laughter of your children always
Excite you and fills you with joy.
Through thick and thing you always
Stick around to show your love;
You're an embodiment of life greatest gift;
For you're twenty persons in one for us:
You're a teacher and a great therapist,
You're a doctor and a great nurse ,
You're a achef and a great baker
You're a driver and a great instructor
You're a daughter and great mother
You're a guardian and a great protector
You're a supporter and great superwoman
You're a queen and a great matriarch
You're a home maker and a great career woman
You're an archetype of motherhood and matriarch.
Whoever said: "Jack of all trade master
Of none" has never met you, in your home;
Like the great Elephant matriarch You master
The best skills and route of motherhood.
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
she texted 'I dreamt of you this afternoon'
which was a promising start
'you were a paintball instructor...
and you shot me in the heart'
now - I'd never dreamed of her
(and thought that even worse)
I wondered if I should mention it
or just write it down in verse
but, that very night,
dreaming in the solace of the dark
I took part in her archery class
and she shot cupids arrow through my heart
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:53 AM UTC
I swear I'm not a stalker
I just wondered where you lived
How you dressed away from work
And on your off hours what you did
I know you think it's crazy
I keep following you around
Dressed last week as a Dive Instructor
This week as a Circus Clown
I don't want you to get suspicious
And perhaps call up the cops
Last time it was I talked with them
They looked at me as if I were nuts
I enjoy watching you eat dinner
As I count each delicious bite you take
With my face plastered to the window
A little disturbed you haven't introduced me to your date
Let us just continue playing slyly
He looks like the jealous type
He wouldn't understand what it is we have
Anyway pretty soon he'll be out of sight and out of mind
We'll just go about our business
Like on any other day
You do whatever it is you do
I'll follow every step you take
Did I mention I wasn't a stalker?
Just wanna make sure you heard
Cause the last time it is I attempted this
All the Doctors said that I was cured
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
I feel like he was created just for me.
I think im holding hands with Destiny.
He Encourages me to be The Woman The Father has presdestined me to be.
Hes like a dream given unto me.
He sees straight thru me like he can hear my thoughts telephatically.
Got me fiening for him like jodeci
Plunging into the depths of his soul's love as I enjoy The journey of his story....
Hes The Instructor of love and Im the student thinking critically.
He has left An impact on my life tremedously.....
Im drowning in his love ever so endlessly.
He is Waves from the oceans currents of
pure bliss
And I......I am his ocean shore that his waters of love kiss.
He's like a precious treaure I have discovered.
Unlocking the chest to look inside and see what I have uncovered.
Im happy for what I have found
Hes A King worthy of Sparkling crown.
I wish I could wear his love Like a White Flowing Wedding Gown.
I feel he completes me like a sentence Yah is the subject, He's the predicate and im the noun.
With his words he painted a vivid picture of me
Its a picture with definition, depth, and clarity.
Its almost like he captured every little detail so Carefully.
As if I were an image of an angel made so Heavenly.
Apparently,
In his eyes Im a portrait crafted very delicately.
A beauty constructed with integrity.
Sparkling like the waters of the deep blue sea.
To Be held in The Artistic nature of his Creativity
Is a Wonderful sight to see
With his poetry I see The illustration of his spiritual Imagery
I caressed the Compassion of his vibes that discerned The ambience of his Frequency.
His Energy Sweetly Speaks so pleasntly
His Diction shows me his style Musically.
His wisdom shows the level of his Maturity
And it makes me drawn to him as if Its a force was pulling me closer into his gravity
Ill admit this experience is kind of scary
But My lovely Beautiful Mahogany
theres no place I rather be than with you standing by my side next to me.
Feeling as if I am Soaring like a bird so Free.
He Surely bring out the Best characteristics of me.
I Believe Im Subconsciously holding hands with destiny
#destiny #serendipity #Love #beauty
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
*she returns from her classes,
ballet, yoga, core something and Zumba for flavoring,
her hair, an upward, toe pointing cannon of mop mess,
her face glowing flushed,
one look and I know she is both,
morphing high,
wipeout exhausted
a little ritual she performs somewhere between
"it was great and she (the instructor) killed us,"
auto sub conscious,
she looks herself over,
twisting elegantly like the
Argentine tango dancer she is,
in the mirrored closet doors
raising both arms to see (show off)
the sums of her endeavors,
the exoskeletal musculature
she has earned,
a life long effort,
like a prize fighter as he
macho enters the ring,
an alpha male gesture
if ever there was one,
made over to say,
hey boy, look at me!
*and the boy looks her over,
always thinking, but never revealing,
that it is her muscles of mindfulness and mercy,
that take his breath away, the ones that are worked out daily,
the ones that surround and work the heart beating,
the lung inhaler of humans in need,
exhaling the richest
oxygen for others to breathe
and the boy does his service,
providing a "wow" or "very impressive,"
only you and he know his real thinking,
and his muscle memories secret,
you to keep, just between us,
and his secret identity, only love poetry...*
8:52pm 7/20/17
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas--
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.
We're told colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms-- ACT, SAT, GPA
And the students they want know everything
that they'll forget once they turn thirty.
Little do we realize
that if our Geometry teacher were to write an analysis
on the coexistence of good and evil in To **** a Mockingbird,
he would likley receive a "D" under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor's English teacher
Nor do we see that the art instructor would freeze in her tracks
faced with an assignment filled with the insufferable fate of
chemical stoiciometry
Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilzation.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our teachers.
Funny he said this roughly 2,000 years ago--
I think my dad said something like that last year.
But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we're just stupid teenagers.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.
This is my page for English B.
2.9k
mother.-
"why can you spend so much time
writing all this sappy bullcrap
but cannot study hard
to get good
grades?"
math teacher, senior high school.-
"why do you write such good poetry
but **** so bad
at math?"
acquantainces/maybe friends, anygradeinanyschool.-
"hey
your poetry sounds pretty good
i just
don't understand
what you are trying
to say."
writing instructor, free elective course, college.-
"your poetry is really good
for someone whose first language is
not english."
lover.-
"you are good at writing poetry,
but besides that,
you just seem clueless
almost
dumb
most of the time
you cannot hear
what i say
nor can you understand
much of it.
it seems like
you are lost
in your own world,
have conversation with me
in your head."
i want to blame all these people
for making me think
i must be really good
at poetry
for i hardly am
in anything else
that actually
matters.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 2:59 PM UTC
Breathing in deep
where I am
on an exhale
I find myself
in warrior pose
but I am thinking
about us
shavasana
on your new carpet
I wish I was
flexible enough to play limbo
with your past and win
Instead I struggle
for balance so
when the instructor calls for
warrior three
I collapse into child’s pose
I collapse into your memory
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
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Adds his bride-to-be: "We can't wait. We don't need to plan it right now, but we can't wait."
And the famously laid-back former dance instructor, 30, says she's already got a couple visions for her big day in mind.
"I always picture myself having a destination wedding because I'm so low-maintenance," Bristowe says. "I don't want to pick out flowers or colors, I just want to be like, 'yes, no, yes, no' ."
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"I have such baby fever," she admits. "I want four [kids]. Shawn wants five. And I hope to God I have all boys."
"One girl," Booth chimes in. "One girl that looks like her mom!"
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
i cannot tell you
how many well meaning
eyes have looked deeply into mine
as lips questioned,
"now what are you doing for you?"
i find that such a bizarre question.
i don't know
staying alive?
avoiding death by
getting maimed
malnutrition
the elements...
isn't that what everyone is doing?
what people are looking for
is something more like...
girl, let me tell you
pull your chair closer
(said in a conspiratorial way)
these disasters couldn't have
happened at a better time!
i've been taking my
government cheese
paying all my bills,
going out to dinner every night
you know i got a life coach
a yoga instructor
and a therapist?
yeah
i have a lover for
every day of the week
i get a massage every wednesday
and a pedicure every monday
because i deserve this me time
what the ****
what am i doing for me?
what are you doing for you?
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Rich, red raspberries in your palm,
rolled there from a damp paper towel as you sit
crosslegged on hardwood floor,
perfect posture,
head leaned against the lowest of the barres in the studio.
Your shoulder blades shift and
your collarbones gleam with perspiration.
Down the wall, another girl savors every drop of an orange.
Through the wall we hear an instructor yelling
and slipping into strings of Spanish curses.
You lean your head on to my shoulder wearing a new shade of lip stain: raspberry romance.
I bite into my bell pepper like an apple and
try not to breathe too loud.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
We clocked in
(Punched in the older guys said)
And sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs
Hubbed by a thin morose
Befuddlement of a team lead
“An hour, just what is an hour?” he asked to begin the weekly meeting
I wanted to say, “A unit of temporal measurement that comprises -- or is that composes? -- sixty minutes,”
But held back
Knowing the obviousness of the query had to be a set-up
The befuddlement sighed in frustration
An understudy to my English III instructor
(the one who gave me an F- on the Emily Dickinson test)
Then said, “Okay, just what can be done in an hour?”
Then the youngest kid who always kept quiet
But who had enough scars -- had to toss in a lurid touch didn’t I --
To imply that he might have more experience than the oldest said,
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, then just what is that contraption on the other side of the bay?”
“An assembly line.”
“And what does it do?”
“It makes a 30centaurpower indivertible that runs on Gila monster spit.”
He nodded.
He considered.
“Okay, then, let’s punch out and come back tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll really have something to do.”
(And - oh yeah -- putting on my hat as a frustrated teleplay writer:
Those scars showed that he could handle himself.)
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 6:34 PM UTC
You never felt snow tighten your skin with a sting
You never searched for the shore from the crest of a wave
You never grinned at the gait of a penguin
You never saw a whale’s grey fluke sink after rising
You never breathed in coffee’s warm rich aroma
You never heard the clearing of a smoker’s throat
You never saw headlights peer through dawn fog
You never smiled at an American accent
You never waited in a queue at the bank
You never cringed at the words of a driving instructor
You never sat and failed a biology test
You never kicked a football across the road
You never changed batteries in a tv remote
You never emptied the lawn-mower catcher
You never rushed to catch a bus and missed it
Yet exulted He chose you
Praise and glory to Him
Picked you from this world
And for it
The last in the line
The path straight to follow
To Him high above all
Alhamdulillah!
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
Hi.
My name's Blair and
I'll be your instructor tonight.
Defensive driving with a class full of
Deviants.
Even the instructor had
Five Tickets
His first year and a half in San Antonio.
But, hey! We get an insurance discount.
Sometimes people get to the front
And they're not sure if
They're supposed to have a book.
What book?
You still have time before class--
Get those donuts!
Do I have the right book?
Everybody needs a pen--
If you have a fairy pen, that won't do.
Today we're going to learn about driving techniques...
Don't worry.
No matter how far off track I get,
We still get done early.
What's the real policy on pecans?
I was wondering
If you could cut the jet noise
Between, oh...about 5.30, sixish?
Split-second decisions
Spot the hazards
You're driving along 1604
And the speed limit changes to
Fifty
Overnight.
Where were the warning signs?
Is this the book?
How hard is it to drive your car if you're not in the driver's seat?
Did anybody get the donuts?
Where's the pizza he was talking about?
Why isn't he in the driver's seat?
Why am I?
Out of hundreds of architects,
Why did Newsweek ask
A nearby park resident?
Your jury isn't attorneys.
No, it's people.
Your punishment isn't
The Red Square.
No, it's--
CUT THE JETS!
WHAT BOOK IS HE TALKING ABOUT?
I WANTED PEPPERONI.
List common signs of an impaired driver.
First, he's not in the driver's seat...
Sometimes people get to the front...
Of donuts and pizza
And they're not sure
Which one should I choose?
If they're supposed to have a book.
No matter how far off track I get,
There isn't a policy for pecans.
We still get done early.
You can't stop the jets from flying.
The jury isn't attorneys.
Drive within the speed limits and
The jury is people.
Pay attention to your driving.
I found the book!
All right--class is over;
I'll see you on Thursday.
I thought we were going to have pizza.
I'll bring donuts...next time.
I was wondering...
How hard is it to steer
Your car if
You're
Not in the driver's seat...?
~Christa Elise Cannon.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
*My nature, once pleaded for one of these darling ones!
The amazing hope only found in the fair women down here.
A strength found only in the wilderness having the ability
To drink bourbon until dawn being absolutely naughty
And then the next morning to show you how to properly
Use a fork and knife while signing thank you cards.
To be raised up to all the heights any man could bear:
Has my God ordained my fate to be southern reborn?
Perhaps he has indeed given this soul another turn.
Gullied without a patriot's name, have I lost my sense?
Yet to be treated as if I were by law a prince.
Am I so brave or just this Belle’s tool?
I never saw a patriot yet that wasn’t a fool.
Here comes she now with religion and the laws
Should I be Absalom or should I be David's cause?
But I am the instructor, or have I lost my place?
She has taken me over with so much grace.
Good heavens, how fast must a patriot pant!
She stole me away by saying “A saint I ain’t.”
Pulling off my shoes as she pulls me down from my throne
I cross my eyes as I moan and I groan.
A kingly battle within the sweetest of torments,
Was their ever a prerequisite or my consent?
The look in her eyes – flames, fire and fury – nothing to lose.
Inferring this infernal night is ours to depose;
Oh God it’s true she’s petitioned me to approve her by choice,
But are not my hands still powered by my voice?
So my pious subjects, for my safety please pray.
I do think this Belle has taken all my will away.*
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
meditating under a glowing orange sky
as the morning sun comes arise
naturally high from this meditative state of mind reaching a caressing every innered of my Cries.
with my eyes fixed on the sky
I can feel the warm whispering breeze subtly caressing my cheek
Depp brsathes in making my body thump gently .
down to my tranquil heart beat.
im in heaven no need to speak
all thanks to my beautiful yoga instructor Emily
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
There was a young man in Travancore,
who joined a program to control anger,
The instructor, a sultry, bold miss
suggested, "Let's start with a kiss"
Her stunning range upended the ******
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:16 PM UTC
i’ve been sad since
the end of snowfall
since i decided i didn’t
want you to love me
anymore
today my lab
instructor
told me
that my transcription
was rough
so are the waters lately
if only pickled mushrooms
and self reflection solved
everything
i would be on an island
in greece right now
not thinking about the
money
the future
or you not choosing to
love me until i asked
you to stop
May 10, 2023
May 10, 2023 at 5:40 PM UTC
My mother used to tell me of her dreams of being a figure skater. She made sure to start my brother and I early, so as soon as I could walk, I was on the ice. I wasn't bad... Nothing special, but potential was all I needed. I remember watching the big girls in their pretty, sparkly costumes jump and twist. I remember saying to myself "I wanna be like that." Sunday mornings flew by, each one becoming harder and harder, and soon I was offered a private instructor. At this point my mother had given me the choice to continue. Ten years old and well aware of my strengths and weeknesses, I quit. I wanted to go shopping on Sundays. I wanted to have play dates and eat ice cream. I didn't want to spend it in that freezing cold arena, working on something that I may or may not be good at. So I quit. Gave up.
Occasionally I miss it and go back to that arena. I put on the bright, white 'big girl' skates that I used to look forward to growing into. Doing laps around the rink, I try to recall what I'd once known... Crossover, jump, spin, turn. Not as grand as they used to be...
I see the little girls in the middle, they look about ten. They wear pretty little costumes and shiny white skates as they hop, spin, crossover, jump, effortlessly.
I wonder about where I'd be if I'd continued...
One of the girls falls out of her spin and lays there helplessly on the ice. She looks as if she's going to try again, but her face reads: I want to quit.
She sighs and stands up. I skate over and tap her on the shoulder.
"Don't give up. I promise, you'll regret it."
I hop off of the ice and compare what I could've been to what I am.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
Branches just above me
Gold leaves like mother's jewels.
Surrounded by the sages of days gone by.
The wind was my instructor, my best and favorite teacher.
Her boughs they hid me from the world, but not the
World from me.
I felt the very beat of Earth
And basked in the embrace
Of the littlest maple tree.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 10:58 AM UTC
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if life could really be that simple?
I am twenty, confused, and clinically depressed
I went to therapy, then to inpatient, and now I’m home
to this house that I’ve known since birth,
Depression is not the only thing I feel, so it is not all of me.
But the path down this road has been long, and dark,
Going up hills and making turns, that got me lost sometimes,
But I’m starting to see the light of day,
Everything happens for a reason they say.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned:
I’m not easy to understand, but nobody is,
at twenty, my age. But I know I am not just what
I feel and see and hear. Instead I am also what
I think, and say, and do. Aren’t we all?
The things that define me, aren’t only in my head.
They can be read, and heard, and seen,
My words spoken out loud, or written down are
The decisions I make, such as letting go, or fighting;
Telling a truth, or a lie; giving, or taking
I guess having depression doesn’t make me a good or bad person
Despite my disorder, I make ordinary choices.
So will my definition of me be alright,
Even if it means, I’m not always delighted to be here.
But I will be here
Just like you are, instructor.
You might be happy with life---
Yet you have your troubles, just as I have mine.
That’s human.
Perhaps you don’t want to be a part of some sad occasions,
Nor do I often want to be a part of them either.
But we are, and that’s life!
As I learn from my mistakes and hard times,
I guess you learn from yours—
although you’re older—and wiser—
and I have less life experience than you.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
i would have been barefoot
with cuffs not hemmed
and rolled
but its not fashion
my jeans are aged
but not from design
i wear my life
into a one roomed class
it dons a bell tower
and, post-toll
no one prays
one instructor for all
each led in divergent direction
according to our abilities
and while the greater lot
learns an appealing cursive script
i curse at the blank pages before me
in my simple way
passing them as notes
but they fall on ears
as barren of hearing
as the recipients feet are
of the callous and sediment
that make mine
breathe life into my narrative
but here no lessons are taught
however gleaned from discord
interpreted through grime
grime and rebuke
filtered through shallow waters
through embattled plains
rife with mole hills and ant piles
scattered with patches of knee high grass
spotted with blooming indigenous flora
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Growth is prevalent in your features.
I can physically see your soul expand,
I can physically see your heart has been fertilized with wisdom.
Wisdom and hurt.
Wisdom and pain.
Pain and love.
They are one in the same.
I am the one to blame.
I can see my strength evolving inside you.
I'm watching my evolution.
I'm seeing all my revelations.
I'm witnessing a dance,
A tango of confusion,
A salsa of reflection.
I've subconsciously been your instructor.
Please remember I'm on your side.
I've dragged you through my pain
And you've grown into my foot steps.
I'm proud.
Please remember.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC