It Can't Be That Hard To Do
One can teach another,
Hygiene.
Depending on the age,
A listening begins.
With an influential meaning.
Discipline and respect too,
Should be taught early.
Before someone reaches pre-school.
Once can teach another,
How to cook.
How to drive.
How to come and go,
With identity and pride.
But teaching one from experience,
The rudiments needed to survive one's life.
Is like teaching one the aspects of motivation,
Desire and drive.
And if one is not energized,
By an inspiration that developes from with inside.
Will take the patience of someone just arriving,
From another planet.
To explain to someone,
That expresses no interest in learning to read OR write.
That 'these' elements are required prerequisites,
If one seeks to have a book.
They envision to see published!
'Why should I have to learn to read or write?
I don't have time for that! '
~And.
What is it you wish that I do for you? ~
'Help me get published.
You did it.
It can't be that hard to do.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Love Is Complicated
My love life is not taught.... meaning, love.... my life miserable teach, love teaching my life.... suffering, love to teach my life.... sad, love life taught me grief...., love to teach my life.... revenge, love to teach my life.... envy, love of life taught me.... hate, love.... my life teaching in fool, love life taught me.... in use, love.... my life teaching in one sense, love of life taught me.... sin, love to teach my life.... the journey is not endless.
Teach Them How To Fish
you may give them fish
but for how long will you be giving them fish? for how long will you fish yourself?
teach them how to fish and they will also teach others how to fish.
that is wiser that way.
teach them poetry at first. let them read the easiest one to understand. let them
see the beauty of the simplest lines from you and from the poet that you love.
teach them how to write one from the fingers of their hand. love their work and tell them how beautiful are they. there is always beauty in every personalized line. i know.i am telling you. your lines speak what is in your heart and everything
inside our hearts are always innately beautiful
let them read their lines. let them speak the meaning that they are hiding in there. that which you have never seen yourself. let them defend beauty and grace and truth in their own work. beauty and truth and goodness have to be
defended by its creator too.
listen. open your mind. listen attentively.
teacher. listen to them. they are now making their own.
love each work.
teacher listen. now they are teaching you. now you are learning some more.
they have their own wings now.
teacher, see the sky. see them. oh how beautiful are they. they are all flying
and singing. do not wish them to come back to you. let them fly away.let them see the big wide world. let them find the other universes.
they are not yours. they belong to themselves. they are now free.
that is your happiness that even the gods cannot give you.
sit back. and write another poem for another batch. some more. some time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hetuaght me a lesson
He said he was going to
teach me a lesson.
I needed to no some things.
The lesson was rape.
But he said it was a game.
He said I had to learn sometime.
When he'd finished.
He smiled and said.
This happens to
Stupid little girls
All the time.
I was only teaching you a lesson.
If it was a lesson to learn
It was one well tuaght.
Be weary of who you trust.
For you never can
Read people like a book.
If you could
The world would be safe.
It was a lesson hard learned.
One that still remains today.
Its a lesson that effects me still.
I only wish I could
Of turned and run.
Only when your young
Like that you dont
Really understand.
If I did
I would of ran.
A thousand miles a way.
Out of reach.
And out of harms way.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The depth of reading
To know I read; to learn I read.
To teach I read; to write I read.
To praise or criticize I read.
Atheists have known of religion
Deeper than theists have known.
01.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Am Not That Giving
If you do not know what respect is.
And you wish for me to point out to you,
Those things you do that are disrespectful?
And your attraction to immaturity too?
You need no longer excuse what you do that has been done,
On pride.
There is something disconnected in your head.
And I am not about to teach another adult,
What is appropriate social etiquette.
That would be likened to teaching a full grown cat,
The aspects of hygiene.
I am not that giving or blessed with those skills.
You want me to do what?
Tell you when you are being disrespectful?
How old are you?
55?
I am not that giving or blessed with those skills.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Teachers Challenge
It's time for the public to open up their eyes
Without the teachers how will our kids survive
What will happen to our children if they
don't have an education
They are the foundation of this great nation.
The teachers all had a dream and a goal
To teach the public young and old.
They had learned early in college
That they must gain daily knowledge.
Every day they challenge their minds
With new knowledge that they find
It does not matter what the topic may be
It all goes down into history.
They work hard at what they do
Teaching our kids and their kids too.
Teaching is not an easy task
not all kids learn that fast.
Then there are those with special needs
With which the teachers plant their seeds.
They are given a lot more patience
And a lot more care, so with them
The teachers do share.
Now is the time that money should be given
So that they can earn a decent living.
poem by Louis Rams
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Teach
Teach me, I want to be taught
Show me the answers that I had sought
Explain to me as I want to learn
As in my soul a passion does burn,
Give me the answers so I can understand
Ask me the questions again and again
Give me the fruit which you call knowledge
Then it will become my meal and my college,
Show me the questions that I must ask
So I can drink and learn from that flask
Tell me all that you’ve read and what you know
As my intellect and learning needs to grow,
Tell me the books that I must read
That too implanted in you that education seed
Stand on your feet I am not out of reach
All that I ask from you is please, teach.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Alphabets
I'm learning the alphabets
So I can write my name
I'm six years old, and I've been told
That learning can be a pain
My parents tried to teach me
With very little success
They thought they were cool, and put me in school
To learn from the very best
They drove me here to Jefferson
Way down on west fifth street
Your friends you won't miss, so don't dismiss
That this will be such a treat
But I wanted to learn the alphabets
Not be a famous brain surgeon
I'm just a kid, you're trying to get rid
And why is this seeming so urgent
Life is just a process
That we all must go through
Know your A B Cs, and 1 2 3s
And life will be easier for you
Here at Jefferson school
We teach all twenty six letters
So when you escape, to go graduate
It makes everyone feel much better
poem by Kevin Seales
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Teacher
Oh! my dear teacher, please, one day become my student,
before I shall teach you anything I shall go to the roads
where thousands of people meet both their ends and I shall
wander through lanes and by-lanes where destitute lives,
before teaching you how to write poetry I must believe in
one humanity, before teaching you any song let me burry
deep the ego and anger let me drink vanity in the glass of
amber, let me visit the street where people kill hate and love
is not only a word of four letters, I must take a few days off
to practice what I teach, I just need to hammer inside what
is called hypocrite,
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Scribbles Transcribed
Some write for glory and for fame.
I write because I am obsessed
and wordplay is my favourite game.
I concentrate on poetry
Because I find it to my taste
and pass my time creatively.
I could not sit and watch T.V
and live my life vicariously.
That would drive me to insanity.
I have a wide vocabulary
which I love to exercise
Harmless but it amuses me.
What better way to pass the time
than writing formal poetry
I do not find it hard to rhyme
I’ll never be a household name
Which does not bother me at all.
I write for fun and not for fame.
My writing will not make me rich
I very rarely publish it
I merely write to scratch my itch.
My pad and pen accompany me
No matter where I choose to go
Though I scribble illegibly.
Record what takes my interest
and jot down anything I see.
When I get home I do my best.
To read the jottings I have made
which is sometimes difficult
as pencilled words tend to fade.
I find that if I persevere
for long enough I understand
enough to make it very clear.
I sometimes wish that I could write
In a clear and cursive script
If I had perhaps I might.
But I am too impatient to write
All of down the things I want to
My scribbling will have to do.
Thank God for printers and P.Cs
So when I post its legible
and you can read my verse with ease.
The feed back which you give to me.
I read with greatest interest.
And it improves my poetry.
My hand writing will never be
capable of being read
by anybody else but me..
(18-Jun-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Redevelopment
Thinking of all aspects of discipline.
And the benefits of comprehension...
Once the affects of listening begins.
The association of respect,
As it is witnessed...
To be connected to one's happiness.
And the satisfaction one gets,
Upon learning sacrifice and patience...
Is a successful process in redevelopment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It, Is...Not!
I am not surprised when I hear,
That many readers do not write.
Nor am I shocked,
To learn those who write...
Do that day and night.
Those who make requests,
For other writers to read their 'stuff'...
Seek approval and acceptance.
But when does that get to become too much?
I've said this so many times and I'll say it again,
When one creates from their own inspiration...
A commitment to just 'that',
Provides a lifelong motivation and a loyalty unmatched.
When one writer becomes offended,
By another who is experienced.
Has not yet comprehended the time involved,
To produce from one's mind...
That another perceives is easily invented.
It,
Is...
Not!
If I ever got a letter,
From Maya, Edgar or Langston Hughes...
I'd be shocked by that!
Believing they would have nothing else to do,
But read Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Emily Dickenson.
And...
Well,
My work too.
It,
Is...
Not easy.
This writing business.
Especially when one seeks,
To be critiqued.
And upon request.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet 56: Fie, School Of Patience
Fie, school of Patience, fie! your lesson is
Far, far too long to learn it without book:
What, a whole week without one piece of look,
And think I should not your large precepts miss?
When I might read those letters fair of bliss,
Which in her face teach virtue, I could brook
Somewhat thy leaden counsels, which I took
As of a friend that meant not much amiss:
But now that I, alas, do want her sight,
What, dost thou think that I can ever take
In thy cold stuff a phlegmatic delight?
No, Patience, if thou wilt my good, then make
Her come, and hear with patience my desire,
And then with patience bid me bear my fire.
poem by Philip Sidney
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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It Takes a Test of Patience
It takes more than just eyes,
One must keep on a prize.
It takes a test of patience,
With a taste for discipline.
And a backbone stretched...
Until a suffering pain that begins,
Ends as a focus to provoke discouragement.
It takes a determination,
With self motivation one does not hide.
It takes a pride in what one does.
And energized by an identity,
One knows resides inside...
Undenied!
It takes more than just eyes,
One must keep on a prize.
It takes a test of patience,
With a taste for discipline.
And a backbone stretched...
Until a suffering pain that begins,
Ends as a focus to provoke discouragement.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Following In Your Brother’s Footsteps
In Auckland decades ago when I did
Offset Lithography printing courses
at famed Auckland Technical Institute;
I was proud of the sacrifices you made
for your parents for your brothers sisters;
you should be proud also you changed
lives in the community gave hopes dreams
the inspiration, for others to try to achieve;
a better life. People may not have thanked
you understood how hard this is to do, but
it is the measure of true success. I will
always believe in you, this is unconditional.
It only matters what God thinks of us.
We try our best, this is all I promised God
that I would try. I guess as long as I have
breath I will try. I do not live with regret,
we survived, there is still time, you are still
needed. Smile and enjoy my brother. Life
taught us a few valuable lessons, the hard
way, we learn we teach. I remember when
you left the Feltex carpet factory returned
to teaching again. It was good. To teach lead
by inspirational example, was greatest finest
hope dream of many who believed you could.
Dedicated to Otesia Solomona Puka, my brother.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A poem for Kafka
My elder brother Lalith.P
Who taught me to read and write
And lot of things about fading life.
He's a humble Encyclopedia.
We drink together as friends
When our holey pocket bit sounds
And we had a common sickness
Allergy for money but not alcohol
Villagers amazed of our Brotherhood!
He who introduced me Kafka.
'You should read his The Trial, The Castle
Amerika, The Metamorphosis and the penal Colony.
Most of his unfinished novels published Posthumously.
And He's a German speaking-Jew.'
My brother was really mad of Kafka.
I read few lines of Isaac Bashevis Singer's short story recently
'A friend of Kafka.'
And I write this brief poem underneath for him;
'I am sorry Kafka and still I couldn't touch
One of your golden books
But my inner feeling speaks
You're great among others.'
As I always respect of my Corsican brother's word!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Undereducated
Just remember I don't come from the best
For what I write is but pure desire and dedication
An obsession in which I will learn my lesson
Being poor doesn't deny me the right
Today or tomorrow night
I draw you in because I write what I would want to read
Not just anything will satisfy
For I am picky only of those of true intellect
Attract my utmost intention
Think of me one who likes to read new inventions
Always original, and always a draw
I read and re read to perfect indeed
But I'm of the undereducated so I'm still flawed
Ten years of constant writing and no schooling has made me the next undereducated bread winner
A defender to those who criticize, by stereo type
But I care not
For I am what I am.
You want to judge, judge by the mistakes, in my grammar I make.
Teach me to appreciate the English language
Be my gauge, tell me what I can do better.
For I read all comments and letters.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Really Want to Write
I really want to write.
For years
I’ve been saying,
“I really want to write.”
I want more time,
more inspiration,
more motivation.
That’s what I’ve been saying.
I haven’t made the time,
have ignored inspiration,
and avoided motivation.
Perhaps it requires self-denial,
depravation,
pain,
sorrow, or
commitment.
Maybe I don’t want to write.
(10/23/05)
poem by Heather Darling
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By learning you will teach; by teaching you will learn.