One's Experience Is the Best Teacher
You have a well groomed and beautiful dog.
Does it bite?
'Only when I take his leash off.
And I express my annoyance with someone.
He is very clever in picking up on my moods.
And he is trained to be protective.
Can you guess what mood I am in? '
What do you think,
I am a mind reader?
'Not at all.
I want to answer your question,
In the best way I can.
I've always been told,
One's experience is the best teacher.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is The Mood Of A Poem For This Night
THERE IS THE MOOD OF A POEM FOR THIS NIGHT
There is the mood of a poem for this night
There is the mood of a love from long ago
That is forever lost-
There is a mood of a too rainy and too cold night
There is a mood of more inside than saying can mean-
There is a mood of many things-
And all these moods are not one mood
And yet in me now largely indescribable-
For there is a mood which takes the person away
Into a land of dreams and beyond
And another mood and another poem
Which simply stays where it is
In longing for itself-
So while I have many moods
And may write many poems of those moods
I know that there is no mood tonight
Which is the one and only one love
I would always have-
And no mood which can say again
All that a person may have when young
And never know again in old age-
There is a mood of being forever sad and forever regretful-
But considering how much Beauty life has
And how many different ways there are of finding it
I will listen to the music of the light tonight
And hear the poetry of many great souls
And in a mood of joy
Quietly go to rest
As if happiness really were the mood beyond and within everything.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Teacher as healer: an observation
Even before the question put,
they’re full of quiet attention; something
is already being listened to.. makes
that space, in which a question
may be floated on the air..
tentatively perhaps, or self-concerned,
the question’s put; and listened to;
perhaps with gentle nod of head;
a keen attention; even a half-smile:
you and they are meeting now
in the fullness of the heart, in
a place that’s fully shared:
the teacher, almost eager, so it seems,
to hear more of your truth;
to hear the truth of you.
And as the question nears its end,
the answer floats upon the air
as if it and the question are but one;
the answer gently given, as if
already shared; not given,
not received; but already shared;
(and I saw: each time they said
the words ‘it is’, their spine
relaxed into a greater straightness..)
Who can describe that unity of mind -
as joy in stillness; or the bliss of peace?
Somewhere in the world of name and form,
something has been healed;
wholeness has returned to wholeness;
perfection taken, and returned;
the teacher, too, is still;
gifts of grace have been exchanged.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why Is It
Why is it when someone tells you something
it keeps repeating itself over in your mind?
It is a question I have no answer for,
but it does it all the time with me.
A very dear friend told me something
that happened in their earlier years
and ever since then it keeps
repeating itself over in my mind.
I keep wishing I had been there at that time
to help them through their ordeal,
but I wasn’t and I didn’t even know them then.
Therefore, why is it now
what happened to them
bothering me so much now?
Could it be I recognise something similar
that happened within my family
and I was unable to help
all the torment that they went through?
Why is it that it bothers me
when I know happiness they found.
The question bothers me for an answer
and that answer I cannot find.
If someone knows the answer,
could they please tell me
and put me out of my misery,
letting my poor heart rest for a time.
30 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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When Communicating My Needs
There are times I feel 'lofty'
And have a need to express my intelligence.
That combination of experience, insight and observation...
Is seeking a way to express itself.
And when in the mood...
I can soar to heights and care less I am understood.
Some who assume others are intelligent,
Do their best to try to impress with their own...
Mental abilities.
As if the basicness of communication,
Is only used to grunt sexual expectations.
And it seems the most unattractive people...
Grunt words I can not pronounce.
There are times I feel 'lofty'
And have a need to express my intelligence.
That combination of experience, insight and observation...
Is seeking a way to express itself.
And when in the mood...
I can soar to heights and care less I am understood.
However...
It is very important to me to be absolutely clear,
In exchanging dialogue with anyone.
With the understanding,
When communicating my needs...
I prefer to keep that as basic as possible!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And The Teacher Goes Out!
He sits alone; they think he is dull,
In the last desk of the class; he paints
a world of his own-a teacher enters!
His eyes brighten once again, a sheer
hope of determination brings back the
glee as the pupils change their color
from the former noisy bees to submissive
sloths. Once again he hopes the teacher
will look at him, will advise or appreciate
like he glorifies the star pupils.
The teacher stands, there is a bewildering
silence, he turns the pages as he moves
forward, waves of joy arise in the heart
of the urchin for he has waited all these
days to be loved, to be cared and granted
like the other pupils. A question is posed
and the clever ones shout in a hundred
thunders, amidst which his answer is lost
just like the ripples which arise and vanish
quickly. The bell rings and without a single
glimpse into the eyes of the urchin, the
teacher goes out! !
poem by Saket Suman
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Teacher, Teacher
Teacher, teacher
I may not love you
But you're the teacher
I try to do what you want me to
I know you get lonely
But you gotta know
It wasn't love
Let me tell you honey
I'm just a young girl
Don't think I know it enough
Teacher, teacher
I don't wanna get an A
Teacher, teacher
There's gotta be a better way
I'm sick and tired of makin' plans
Without makin' up my mind (Make up your mind)
Teacher, teacher
Can't you see I just need a little time
I know you've been cryin'
Just think that you're not alone
Just cry me a river
It's what you'll deliver
We have to do it on the floor
Teacher, teacher
I don't wanna get an A
Teacher, teacher
There's gotta be a better way
(Woohoo, yeah)
Teacher, teacher
I've been tryin' to get you down
But why should you get used to somebody
Who won't be around
I know you get discouraged
Cause you wanna do it all the time
Honey I can't let you use my body
The same way you use my mind
Teacher, teacher
I don't wanna get an A
Teacher, teacher
There's gotta be a better way
[repeats to end]
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Certain Things I Am Learning To Perfect
Can I stop what you 'think'?
No.
Of course not.
I hope I am not showing any intention,
I believe I can do such.
However,
I can be opinionated when asked.
And I am doing my best to leave that activity,
In my past.
But...
I can avoid listening to you,
Bigtime.
You will vanish in thin air,
If I put that in my mind.
Lock you out,
Quicker than a lover I had undercovers.
There are certain things I am learning to perfect.
With a mastering of forgiving myself,
BEFORE I experience regret.
For example...
I 'use' to be the kind,
To express 'first' what entered my mind.
Then experience deep regret...
For using the wrong curse words!
Out of context.
Now...
I can ignore anyone,
Without feeling any remorse at all.
And understandings someone may have,
To be misunderstood...
I can leave behind as if nothing happened.
As if anything I wished not to exist,
Doesn't for me anymore.
And those who have gotten on my last nerve.
With irritation and repeated annoyance?
Are privileged to get a taste of it!
Keep in mind...
I haven't reached perfection yet.
But I am determined to keep practicing.
Stay right there!
I'll show you how it works.
Pray that I am successful.
Okay?
Here I go!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wicked Teacher
Experience a wicked teacher
You push us into test
And examine our stuff
Before you begin to teach
How rigid you are
Your lessons linger on
Your scars never fade
Your memory ever fresh
Experience a wicked teacher
You don’t care about age
You teach the young
And warn the old
Experience a wicked teacher
You don’t pity our scars
But leave us with time
To bind our wound
Experience a wicked teacher
You never stop your test
Often we dodge it
But to meet it ahead.
poem by Seun Bewaji
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My Turtle Use to Rush!
You taught my turtle how to walk on a leash.
When you babysat my turtle.
But now my turtle's mood,
Has become distant and cranky.
My beloved turtle now gives me shifty looks.
And I know with me it's angry.
Since the babysitter I picked and booked.
When my turtle use to hear me turn the key,
At the front door.
My turtle use to rush to me.
But no more!
You've got my turtle trained to believe,
It needs a leash...
To eat with me Chinese.
And I use to love how my turtle ate Wonton.
But from within its shell...
All it does is just peek on.
When my turtle use to hear me turn the key,
At the front door.
My turtle use to rush to me.
But no more!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More to me.
My turtle use to rush!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Teacher Says, Teacher Goes
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
what you have done,
was clearly a mistake,
maybe it is,
time for a break.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
that you have been naughty.
That you have been quite foughty.
That you are being rude,
don't call teacher a dude.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smilies,
teacher know,
that you were making faces,
behind teachers back,
that you were throwing spitballs,
at the teacher's pet.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows.
So enough is said,
so now you know,
that whatever you do.....
Teacher says,
Teacher goes,
Teacher smilies,
Teacher knows
poem by Jasmine Aira
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He Told Me I Was Beautiful
He told me I was Beautiful,
And I was feeling so alone...
He told me I was Beautiful,
It was such a serious tone.
He told me I was Beautiful,
It must be a curse word!
He told me I was Beautiful,
And made sure that I heard.
He told me I was Beautiful,
And that he wanted to keep me.
He Told me I was Beautiful,
I felt trapped and wanted to flee.
He told me I was Beautiful,
But I do not love him.
He told me I was Beautiful,
You know what?
I really don't care....
Because when he kissed me,
I wished I wasn't there.
poem by Jessie Lima
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Refusing Lessons To Them Given
I have never understood,
Those who pay to sit in classrooms...
Refusing lessons to them given.
To then declare what is being taught,
And the experience of the teacher...
Who provides a strained patience,
Is inadequate for them to digest.
And the teacher commited,
Has to listen to those too ignorant...
To respect or silence themselves.
Or speak or write correctly!
But wish to express their intelligence,
To impress others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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A Simple Question
'While I am asking questions which You do not answer, You ask me a question which is so simple that I cannot answer. I do not even understand the question.' Thomas Merton, A Merton Reader,
'And He continued by questioning them, ‘But who do you say that I am? '' Mark 8: 29
Clear day
golden sky
gives way to
black clouds
and I ask,
'why? '
It's a child's question.
Within cities
hard edges, pavements
grey receive the red
tide, heads fall
and lives split open,
spill into
gutters fill,
sewers, fill
the sea,
and like a
persistent child
I ask 'why? '
In the morning
through bright
windows I see how
spring leans
to summer, timid
leaves open wide
glow in silver light
and green fire
fills the wood,
and by this beauty
silenced,
I hear
in tones
beyond my hearing
a simple question;
'who? '
but I cannot answer;
I do not
know.
poem by Steven Federle
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Why don't you know the answer
When a problem comes up,
You blame someone else,
Except yourself.
When something hard needs to be done,
You get someone else,
To do it for you.
When it comes to quizzes and tests,
All you do is,
Guess.
When you get asked a question,
You always say,
I don't know the answer.
Why do you blame someone else,
Or get someone to someone to do something for you,
Or guess.
Why don't you know the answer?
Why?
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Oh So Simple Question
I have a question
I have a simple thought
I am the border obsession
I am the clever, the taught
You have my aggression
You have a complication
You are an angry expression
You are the unheard conversation
We have a serious problem
Something simple yet trying
You understand, you look solemn
You know exactly what question I’m implying
Now concentrate, ask it now
Your eyes beg not to be told
Tell it now, but tell it how?
How to tell this question I hold
Wait! Look at your eyes
Now desperate to know
The question I hide
The question I knew not long ago
NO! I no longer remember
The simple question I wanted to ask
That cold day, in that snowy December
Oh how I hate this shy mask
Maybe I will once again
Think of a simple question
Whilst I walk down memory lane
Maybe, one day, you will hear my confession
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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Teacher Man
The Teacher Man teaches kids from all over the world
The Teacher Man teaches no matter boy or girl
The Teacher Man teaches Christans, Musilms, and Jews
The Teacher Man teaches those who say 'God I don't believe in you'
The Teacher Man teaches over demands for more recess
The Teacher Man teaches to only demand the best
The Teacher Man teaches Science, Reading, and Math
The Teacher Man teaches how to live out of class
The Teacher Man teaches all how to share
The Teacher Man teaches that we all should care
The Teacher Man teaches how to keep an open mind
The Teacher Man teaches with a kick in the behind
The Teacher Man teaches there are lessons in life
The Teacher Man teaches how to overcome strife
The Teacher Man teaches there's nothing wrong with a hug
The Teacher Man teaches the world changes with Love
The Teacher Man teaches the rich and the poor
The Teacher Man teaches those who are ready for more
The Teacher Man teaches how to look someone in the eye
The Teacher Man teaches how to accept someone in their cry
The Teacher Man teaches in more than one tounge
The Teacher Man teaches how to make working hard fun
The Teacher Man teaches all the colors of the land
But, most important of all, he teaches we should take a stand
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, for what you believe
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, and you will be free
Take a Stand, Take a Stand, for the least of the least
Take such Stand man, and you will find peace
He's the Teacher Man
poem by Ary Bolanos
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What Is Your Favorite Work Of Art?
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORK OF ART?
What is you favorite work of art?
The answer that I'd like to hear is "You! "
You've been my favorite still the start
of our relationship, and when I view
you even in a reproduction
made by a camera I want to touch
the source of this work's great seduction,
the work of art I love so very much.
Even if you don't say "You! "
and your answer doesn't correspond
to mine, please do not look askew
at me while you are looking far beyond.
Kate Murphy interviews the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.in the NYT,4/29/12. He tells her:
I first heard Rufus Wainwright by accident about five years ago. I was doing research at Hampton Court in England and I came out one summer afternoon and he was doing a sound check. I heard him sing a song called "The Art Teacher, " which just happens to be about a girl falling in love with an art teacher at the Metropolitan Museum and looking back on this experience in her middle age. It's such an evocative and brilliant song, and I've loved his music ever since.
There are the song's lyrics:
THE ART TEACHER
There I was in uniform
Looking at the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
He was not that much older than I was
He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum
He asked us what our favorite work of art was,
But never could I tell it was him
Oh, I wish I could tell him -
Oh, I wish I could have told him
I looked at the Rubens and Rembrandts
I liked the John Singer Sargents
He told me he liked Turner
Never have I turned since then
No, never have I turned to any other man
All this having been said,
I married an executive company head
All this having been done, a Turner - I own one
Here I am in this uniformish, pant-suit sort of thing,
Thinking of the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
No, never have I loved any other man
4/29/12 #10,032
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Sonnet: A Teacher
I loved to be a Medical-Teacher;
My Teacher Father was my role model;
His scholarliness was his great feature;
His greatness words can never truly tell.
A Teacher tells whatever, he has known;
And moulds the conduct, character of wards;
He guides his pupils like his very own;
And expects never earthly just rewards.
A Teacher stays a Teacher forever;
None can replace his place uniquely held;
His students must be brighter and clever,
And when that happens, he is much reveled.
The students imbibe Teacher's noble thought;
To hand the same to progeny, they ought.
poem by John Celes
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Teacher, Teacher
Teacher, teacher, teacher, teach me now
Teacher, teacher, teacher, guide me now
Teacher, teacher, teacher, show the way
You are my light
You are my guide.
Teacher, teacher, teacher, comfort me
Give your listening ears when I cry
Help me find the strength in what I can
You are my help
You are my guide.
Teacher, teacher, teacher, build me up
When I do wrong, show me what is right
Teacher, teacher, teacher, let us laugh
You are my friend
You are my guide.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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