"mentoring" poems
I stand alone in the dark Fulton Street subway station,
Breathing in the urine-scented air,
Breathing out clouds of steam,
A subway train rushes along,
Not stopping,
Biting at my eardrums,
With the painful percussion,
Of thousands of people,
Silently screaming,
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
The air fanned by each subway car,
Rushes against me,
Pushes the ozone and the smell of burnt brake linings,
Into my nostrils,
Along with the air,
****** through the iron gratings,
Along miles of Brooklyn sidewalks,
Carrying the odor of a prostitute’s festering sores,
And the cries of a hungry, fatherless child in ***** diapers,
And the hoarse moaning of a city councilman mentoring a young intern,
And the cheap perfume of a fourteen year-old runaway,
Turning $20 tricks in an alley,
Smelling of stale Chinese food and wet dogs,
And . . .
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
. . . the smell of spoiled cabbage soup,
And the rancid remains of a hotdog buried in sauerkraut,
And putrid lilies lying in a gutter,
All assaulting me, forcing me backwards,
Until my back presses against,
The grimy once-white tiles,
That coldly burn their graffiti on my spine:
God is dead,
Bake a ****
Whitey *****
**** the *******
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
I don’t want to see,
The train finally passes,
Its red eyes receding into the dank,
Dark tunnel beyond the platform,
The screeches and screams slowly die out,
Their echoes ******* behind them,
The smell,
Of my,
Warm
*****
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
A father adoring eyes
Expressions of love
Kindness and compassion
A father mentoring
patience and understanding
strength and courage
A father who is fun
laughs and runs
plays with his son
A father who listens
meek and mild
open-minded and moral
Be proud father
Your son is a scholar
And an agile athlete
Be proud father
Your son is a vision of you
who will carry your traits
Be proud father
Your son shows your heart
soul and spirit
Be proud father
Your son an incredible young man
the world is in his hands
Be proud father
Your son has a dream
he is a miracle of you
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 1:14 PM UTC
Towering over the rocky shore,
mentoring the intractable,discordant waves.
Rigid and stubborn,over which the eagles soar
"They" come here for absolution,the murderers,the soothsayers,the knaves.
Tweleve kilometers away from the tower,she watched,
living in sweet sardonic solace,in an ancestral cottage.
how "they" climbed the crumbling earth,body and soul parched,
desperate to be purged,freed from guilt-driven *******
Ruminating over the storm swept silence,
she loathed man's dependence on belief.
Comatised, mentally enervated in its absence,
The belief commands discipline, our obedience.
Scrambling over the jagged rocks,
she climbed to the base of the dominating column,
A vulture sitting high above,looks down to mock.
the blinding circulating light,an eerie feeling she could not fathom.
Ascending the two hundred and forty eight iron spiral stairs,
as surreal force encompassed her, she instantly felt possessed, her mind awakened by last night's nightmare.
As she stood high above,adjacent to the vultures,
She acknowledged her mind grow vacous,empty , free.
There was something calming or demanding about this structure,
exterminating her inner thoughts and memories,reaching an ******** apogee.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
Not one to give advice but willing to help others.
Coaching has taught to lead a team
Mentoring peers to helping them excel
Giving pointers on writing many talents
The best way to master is teach
Multiple repetitions an practice
Skills aren't natural they are learned
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 4:44 AM UTC
I've passed the space of mortals;
Within the abyss, a hidden path
Entries into sacred dimensions
Summoning,
Channeling my vessel
I've stood between these portals;
Constantly entwined,
Fused with the stars
Figuring out the past/ the spirits
Entering, mentoring my purpose
Haunted by extinct forces ~
Modulating sequences of
energy, forming around me
The key to finding power;
Lost within this hostile fabric
Grasp the relic, seize it's secrets
How did the light commence? Tell me!
Grasp the relic, that which you seek will guide you
Cursed craft,
Conjures horror through
prophecy
Ripped from texts of grimoires
Haunts the mind;
Insight from the lost
I can see
Storm clouds emanating
Rays
Illuminate
My foundation
Break confines,
My birthright iminent
Manifest:
Channel through higher levels
Space and time
Warped by my intention
Transcend death
Awaken the ascension
As was foretold,
Enter the shadow
Dimensions -
Clashing at my will
Star clusters,
Cascading toward new realms
Orisons -
Structuring the suns
Galaxies,
Altering from my plight
Lure ~
Harvest spirits
From realms beyond
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
She was so little
Yet so much as oppression could be
Discovered in her ribs
Pressing hard on the heart
Revealing spark of distress
captured in the beams that cause happiness yet discontent.
Mentoring her own soul
The deep thoughts she wasn't able to bowl
The words that would neither roll
The body kept inside of 4 walls
Angry Phone calls
that came crawling in through her veins
Pleading dismissal
Knocking on the bruises that remain
It still rains
Thundering tears that remain
Unseen.....Unspoken
yet sensored through damaged parades
She grew up hating herself better than anyone else
Connecting each thought with an elixir
Of confusion
Haunted her own mind better than the demons that lifted off the shelves
Reaching deep into her body
Fracturing the foundations
Remaining each fragment
Shattering the blizzard of joy and
Draining all its impetus
Only as figments of its magination
Her actions that coincide with the alchemist's heartless box of incarceration
but a souless body is one with no purpose
What was her life if she had no control?
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
When we see racism...
be BIGGER
stand up to the bully
When we witness crime...
be BIGGER
be that snitch and level justice
When we see hunger...
be BIGGER
feed a soul that is in need
When another needs help...
be BIGGER
give what you can in aid
When a child need mentoring...
be BIGGER
give of your knowledge
When your mate needs compassion...
be BIGGER
be silent and give love.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 4:05 AM UTC
The rhythm of life so fast, the beat so contagious.
The harmony wonderfully ear-pleasing, the note on one accord.
The waves of life turbulent, the motion so changing.
The ride a beautiful crashing sight, the current a fierce pull.
The color of life so varied, the lens so resolute.
The shade magically mobile, the hue slightly wavering.
The heartbeat of life so steady, the lungs so pink and full.
The brain magnificently retaining all, the body fully functioning.
The possibilities of life so many, the opportunities so endless.
The experiences psychologically mentoring, the stages slowly passing fast.
The pen of life so permanent, the pages so stained.
The story so irreversibly absolute, the book a never ending continuation.
The reality of life so hazy, the consciousness so unforgetting.
The love so heartwarmingly touching, my existence fleeting.
And when dust returns to dust, I pray that I am remembered.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 12:30 PM UTC
I should warn you right now
That you probably should go
There are secrets about me that you will never know
I'm not a girl to love
Because my love doesn't last
I fall so deeply in love so quickly
And fall out just as fast
These secrets are everything to do with it
And they have complete control
So don't ask me to let you in
Because they force me to say no
These secrets are demons
Who tricked their way in
They turned my pure and innocent heart
Into darkness and sin
This numbness is the best friend
That I never asked for
The one that I never realized
I bargained for
In exchange for the pain
That I felt every day
The numbness came in and asked if he could take it away
There were no terms or conditions
In exchange for relief
Just pure satisfaction
That I was no longer weak
But as time passed on
I realized what he had done
Not only did he suppress my pain
But he also stole my love
The ability to love so deeply
That pain could break me
At times I have thanked him
But more often I feel lonely
I fell in love with you
I've never had love so pure
Why my best friend, this darkness
Let it happen, I'm not sure
He's never been one to share
So I'm worried about what he'll do
That's why I'm scared to let you in,
Because he never makes room for two
I think I gave him my soul..
And he ate it with a smile
As he kindly burned the pain away
And swept the ashes into a pile
He showed me how to live without love
Sometimes I feel like I owe him
For mentoring me as I grew up
I used to be thankful to have him
I realize now that I messed up
And I made a mistake
I can't be happy without your love
And I can't have love without pain
I shouldn't have let him take over
My soul became nearly black
I can survive on your love
So I'm accepting all of the pain back
Your love is strong enough
To carry my dark and regretful past
I trust you with my life and my heart
I believe that we could last.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
They sit in the humblest of frames,
Faux wood-grained plastic grotesqueries
Purchased long ago from some doomed Grants or Bradlees,
Though one or two enjoy something nicer,
Left behind by some long-timer taking a buyout
Or a sympathetic youngster denied tenure
(She has, for the better part of three decades,
Cleaned up the detritus of middle-school children,
A bit stooped from the work,
Not to mention the burden
Of any number of she’s just or she’s only
Tossed like so much bric-a-brac in her direction.)
The approximations of old masters equally eclectic in origin:
One or two gallery-quality reproductions
Blithely abandoned by some haughty faculty matron
Mentoring children through noblesse oblige,
The odd promotional piece from a scholastic publisher,
Mostly things she has cut from magazines or discarded texts.
She studiously avoids pieces tending to the dark or muted,
No Stuart portraiture or pensive Vermeers;
She has a strong predilection for bold, boisterous Gaugins,
Mad cubist Picassos, lush Cezanne still-lifes,
Even the odd blocky *******
If you pressed her to explain her fetish
For the brightest of the great masters,
She would likely be at a loss to explain,
Having no academic bent for such things
(Though she has been known to curse the shortcomings
Of lithographers and pressmen under her breath)
And, as she freely admits, I’m not much good with words.
There would be the uncharitable suggestion
That their purpose is to mask cracks and pockmarks in her walls
(She has, to be sure, lived in a long series of such places)
But she has never, consciously or otherwise,
Used them for such pedestrian and utilitarian purposes;
They are, to her anyway, beautiful, and that is all they need be.
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC
Finding Peace
My heart is restless Lord I am searching
For joy when I should be looking for
Peace. I should be asking more of you and saying less of me. I know you have me here right now and it’s where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know how to try and I feel like I’m doing this only as a last resort. I want joy, but it’s peace that I need. I find peace when I am here in adoration and the grace that I receive. It’s hard to let go of trying to find joy, because I love joy and you have given me a joyful heart. Remind me not to love joy more than I ought to love you. Let Your Will be done Lord in and through me. Allow me to speak love and life into all I encounter and may the work be fulfilling. Perhaps I already have the answer in front of me even now. I am at peace when I am with you. If I am with you, I will know peace and there is so much good I can do as a priest. Poetry and prayers, mentoring, connecting with all people especially our young people, being a councilor and confidant and all these things give me joy. Maybe being a priest isn’t where I want to be, but maybe being a priest is where I need to be for me, for you, and for others. Please Lord, help me to discern ever more this big decision and I pray that wherever I go and whatever I do, I may find or be led to a place of peace. Help me find joy in all the things I have peace with and may i never lose the joy and the childlike faith and love that you have given me. Amen.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
There but for the grace of God go I.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There but for the grace of God go I.
Having reached the age of six n seventy
Eagles of the sea have taught me to fly
Rich rewards await if you reach a land o plenty
Expectations under wraps but you have to try
By loving and giving the passport to nobility
Unless you keep a faith you’ll never know why
There but for the grace of God go I
Fortune favours t’ brave my Daddy w’ so wise.
On those winter nights he reads to my delight
Rubicon of literary giants was my prize.
The works o’ Rudyard Kipling kept a boy alive
Hidden hero’s mentoring a child with a desire
Every Sunday church attend all were s’advised
Granted there but for the grace of God go I
Running clear of all the gangs Im traumatised
Atheists n sinners ridiculed looking in my eyes
Call yourself a Christian ?Well we are amazed
Even with such provocative faith held for years
On life threatening occasions it never wavered
Faith holds the key as friends fail to survive
Gladly ,there but for the grace of God go I
Oh grant me that grace to be of your PA
Diligence and devotion t’ serve you all my days
God channeled me my words for love of man
Only wish to perpetuate the joy of poetry.
In an age.When fake news is everywhere .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 10th 2018.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 11:58 PM UTC
That morning mentoring – to me,
Once upon a time- when I’m your son,
Was just a baby schooling,
For now, I thank you,
In today and its fruition,
Whether it’s just suspect
Or manifests at all,
Without my asking,
There is welcome on the door,
On faces, feet, rugs, walls and curtains,
Which speak about dwellings of bodies.
Yet at Horn-Bill Hill nearby, still pretentious teeth
**** chins that die of pain, fret of sense-vity,
Even Deers of South Hill village,
Compete with this gem,
Will those two find an escape route?
With an array of A.W.O.L’s for you,
So many meanings and beamings M.I.A,
But the irony is here,
In the Centre of this mammoth city,
Where I found reality,
At least I saw you.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
When days are becoming colder
when nights are getting longer
when enemies are becoming bolder
when to lean on there's no shoulder
I still continue with all my might
when every breath is of despair
when life is not at all fair
when no one **** cares
When it is all too much to bear
I still have an urge to fight
when darkness is battering
when sorrows are centering
when evil is mentoring
when dreams are shattering
I still want to make things right
for I see the side that is bright
for I never lose my sight
everything will be allright
for I still see light
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
'The electrical translator, too, is like a series of stars"
लॉरेंस हॉल विद्युत अनुवादक भी तारों की एक श्रृंखला की तरह है।
<>
the **** the poke,
the smell of roasting smoke,
electricity on fire,
the translstor is also guided
by the mentoring direction of
Saraswati:^
today we learned thst
creativity
is well stored, well kept,
& much beloved,
dwelling deep in the coda of the internet,
and s-un-surprisingly
~~~~
She is a she,
especially in
Hindi
वह एक औरत है,
खासकर हिंदी में
vah ek aurat hai,
khaasakar hindee mein
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
your name is irony
you were bound to bleed
cut my sisters and me
i thought you were family
you corrected me
you don’t have the capacity
i thought i was mentoring you
i thought i was beneficial
you were using me for all i could give you
Dec 29, 2022
Dec 29, 2022 at 7:00 PM UTC
Mothers are always there
For they are gentle hearts that are sincere
Mentoring you with life's lessons
Along with guidance and protection
Encouraging you to give it your all
So you can stand up tall
Monitoring results at everything you do
They want the best for you
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
Toys and soldiers
Clattering, battering
Madness, calm and shattering.
A banquet, a festival, a slumber.
Thump, thump, soft on felt
Like our beats of the heart
Leaving before entering
Metronome mentoring.
Tender fingers feeling
Stealing.
Desires and magic interwoven
Pitter patter in my mind.
All around me calling.
Enthralling.
Come to me.
Come with me.
Float, breathe, deep in the depths.
High in the sky.
Fly.
I am you. You and I.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 7:38 AM UTC
Scorching heat at Wadia hospital Mumbai 11.30 am May 8th 1971,
stepped in all of 1.1 kg difficult to survive with faith,
named per wish of my grandma, left a year early for me to breath
childhood was roguish and wanders with no point of crusade,
Mentoring and guidance enlightened the change of perception,
Pa and mom nurtured tirelessly for me to a better being
love kindled and heart bloomed to survive the intellect,
growing up from minion to somebody was a challenge,
making roads to **** the mountain required efforts
to serve mankind developing biobetters, up way to achievement
Nuptials matured inner peripatetic bringing the focus to explore,
soul mate and then version boomed it up to ridge
am I thinking that the gods have blessed each.
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 6:28 AM UTC
There but for the grace of God go I.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There but for the grace of God go I.
Having reached the age of six n seventy
Eagles of the sea have taught me to fly
Rich rewards await if you reach a land o plenty
Expectations under wraps but you have to try
By loving and giving the passport to nobility
Unless you keep a faith you’ll never know why
There but for the grace of God go I
Fortune favours t’ brave my Daddy w’ so wise.
On those winter nights he reads to my delight
Rubicon of literary giants was my prize.
The works o’ Rudyard Kipling kept a boy alive
Hidden hero’s mentoring a child with a desire
Every Sunday church attend all were s’advised
Granted there but for the grace of God go I
Running clear of all the gangs Im traumatised
Atheists n sinners ridiculed looking in my eyes
Call yourself a Christian ?Well we are amazed
Even with such provocative faith held for years
On life threatening occasions it never wavered
Faith holds the key as friends fail to survive
Gladly ,there but for the grace of God go I
Oh grant me that grace to be of your PA
Diligence and devotion t’ serve you all my days
God channeled me my words for love of man
Only wish to perpetuate the joy of poetry.
In an age.When fake news is everywhere .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 10th 2018.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
I know the keys to happiness
lie never far away
I know they unlock all the doors
so I don't have to stay
I'm not trapped within a rut
I don't have to be alone
There's so much I can really be
I just have to get it done
Pushing everything aside
discovering a why
That dream that drives us to go on
the one that gets us by
I've had some real amazing dreams
but the flaw in them was me
I did not know the trick to life
was just to let them be
Even then that wouldn't work
for I am not the driver
of waking dreams that torture me
on which I can't deliver
My dreams need more than I can do
here all by myself
Dreams that come with families
now hidden on a shelf
There is no use in dreaming dreams
that never will come true
Though I'm told that they will if I
just get out there and do
It seems far-fetched and rather simple
I don't know what to believe
All I want is fewer worries
just a bit of a reprieve
Sick of waiting on something big
being passive to the flow
'actions speak louder than words'
a mantra that I know
so my why is in two parts
part need and part desire
the house is money I need to pay
but his faith it lights my fire
Darkness could swallow him alive
yet not extinguish that great light
his soul burns hard enough to prove
he knows which way is right
I've struggled hard against the mold
fought long to break away
but like the moth drawn to the flame
I am here to stay
Eyes on my heart know it all
every crack and every seam
gentle words of a gentle man
a man made out of dreams
his bright dreams and driving tone
set cadence to us all
mentoring, protecting too
when I'm up against the wall
So selfish it is to want for him
and give what wasn't asked
a home and heart and helping hands
sanctuary that will last
to work for him in many ways
I would not do for me
but I can't forget the simple rule
'let each situation be.'
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC