A Class Of Spices! :)
Well, I am Mr.Pepper your class teacher
I want you all to be prim and proper
Study and score well in your test papers
Spices are meant to serve best as toppers
Sweet little Cumin
Please walk in, come in
Firm, very resourceful Ginger
Take your seat, you are very clever
Radiant yellow healer Turmeric
Well done! You are Good in mathematic
Silent relieving Clove
You are as important and soothing as Love
Slender and charming Cinnamon
Today it's your chance, you have to read, go on
Hot and happening Chilly
Just listen, don't be silly
Bitter but better Fenugreek
Windows are not for you to peek
Mild and nice Sesame
If Fenugreek speaks or peeks, you tell me
Stylish and cool Fennel
Don't talk to Staranise, This warning is final
Sharp and Bright Staranise
Move next to Clove, write down wih ease
Mustard, Poppy, Carom, Coriander and Cardamom
Well, they are all busy preparing for the prom
Salt and Sugar didn't make it to class
They are well put in bottles of solid glass.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Spices
Of the spices of life,
Of the spices of love,
Of the spices of peace,
Of the spices of my mind,
Life in Africa maters to me lot.
Of Black Cumin,
Of Red Peppercorns,
Of Black Mustard,
Of Cayenne Pepper,
Of White Mustard,
Of Mixed Peppercorns,
Of Mahaleb Cherry,
Of Szechuan pepper,
Almost everybody is with a mobile phone in Africa!
But strong alcohol are consumed daily by the majority unemployed.
In Africa,
My mind sits and writes;
Because, life in Africa matters to me a lot.
Of Coriander, Ground Ginger, Fenugreek, Turmeric and Paprika!
Like the struggles daily in Africa for a survival;
But one day, we will get there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Agony
And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney
And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry
And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
Sauted well with flavoured tobacco
Then to garnish with cut cigar pieces
To make tobacco biryani
Tobacco chutney, tobacco curry
Tobacco biryani..what next..
Forgotten Kitchen hurrying
To make more koftas
Be put in sugar syrup
To make tobacco jamuns
Then you see, exhausted Kitchen
Under the wildly running fan rests
Wildly coughing out
Her heart despite its rapidness
Awaiting patiently her lover
Who's been chained to her delicious cooking
poem by Indira Renganathan
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English Class
English Class
Is supposed to be fun.
But when teachers make you
Listen to them while they talk about
Nothing
You don't really pay attention.
You drift off instead,
Floating around in your head,
Thinking about things that don't make sense
And about sense that don't make things.
You doodle on a page,
Or stare at the walls,
Or read under your desk,
Or stare at the teacher
And wonder how she managed to qualify
To be a teacher when she doesn't even use
Grammar.
I think it's stupid
To waste an hour of my day
Sitting doing nothing.
It's pointless to sit here
When I could do something
More.
I could:
Volunteer,
Or be in Drama class,
Or could be making a movie,
Or helping my mom,
Or hanging out with my friends,
Or helping my brother and sister learn to ski,
Or doing SOMETHING, ANYTHING ELSE.
This class isn't doing
Anything.
I can feel my love for English
Dissapearing.
It's sad that one teacher
Can ruin an
Art form.
poem by Kelsey Tennant
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Semiya', My Pride.
A tiny wooden boat was
My asset that would sink
If exceeded the weigh of
Myself, around kilos fifty,
When I was aged sixty.
One warm hearth fed on
Coconut and rice husks,
A sand-pot full of ‘Semiya'
Made of rice flakes, yellow sugar,
Cardamom, nuts, milk, cumin,
Cinnamon leaves, dry ginger,
Water and a pint of salt; that
Made my ‘Semiya' sweeter still.
Had four old glass cups
To feed those who would wait
With craving taste buds by
The shady backwater banks
As a routine, for my narrow
‘Sweet-bowl', to appear dancing
On the swollen dark green waves!
Their hope-lines were thinner
Than their fishing lines, but
Invariably enjoyed my treat,
Paying the small coins in return,
Sometimes, more, often less.
I fed generations, some turned
Stars, some waiting voyage,
Most still hold the glass up
Above their open mouth for
The last dropp to ooze and fall
On their giggling tongues!
My recipe was my course,
The research, theses, marks,
Awards and references that
In 45 years long sweet-serving
Never had any regret, nor my
Long array of village faces
Ever had scowls of any sort.
Now I wonder, with such a
Paltry income, how could I
Manage the marriages of all
My daughters, and a small
Shop for my heedless son!
Life has always been intact,
Though my tiny boat had often
Broken by startling tides!
Thanks to God, the merciful,
All ended well with me, but
Children today work long hours
And make a heap of winnings,
But without any natural sweetness,
Either in flesh or in soul!
Their delights are strained,
Temples full of swollen veins!
poem by Tajudeen Shah
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My class
My class is a funny class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a circus
That will conquer the school
We have acrobats
We have clowns
and we even have elephants
My class is a noisy class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a market
That will conquer the school
We have hawkers
We have fruiterers
and we even have butchers
No matter what
A circus or a market
We enjoy our class
When the teacher is not in
poem by Sarah Ally
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Mrs. Bass's 8th Grade Language Arts Class
Welcome,8th grade, to this class,
I teach Language Arts because I'm Mrs. Bass.
Pick a desk and have a seat,
Write your assignments in your planner nice and neat.
Open your notebooks and pull ot a sheet of paper,
Today we will do the opening together.
Now read your book for 20 minutes or so,
take notes on what you know.
Now it's time for a test,
try your hardest and do your best.
No talking during this test you hear,
Because Mrs. Bass is watching near.
Test is over time has past,
Now heres the thing we do last.
For homework tonight in your book,
Do page 72 'a closer look'.
Write a summary on what you learned,
And write 5 questions for extra credit that can be earned.
Now pack your things and dont forget to do your homework tonight,
Now adios first wave GOODBYE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Christy Tanksley
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No Teacher, Please
Teacher, teacher, teacher,
you don’t be a preacher,
and never be a searcher,
I will become researcher,
Madame always I mischief,
Still you give relief,
Never you have punished,
If work not finished,
Class always I miss,
Make I noise hiss,
I get up and ask miss,
Making nuisance for piss,
You still not get angry,
Allow me to go if feel hungry,
I have good rapport,
With your full support,
Whole day I play,
Mingle with dirt and also clay,
Still I pass it as a good day,
No lessons done and books at bay,
I will be clever and also naughty,
But never I trouble when feel thirsty,
Learn the lessons by heart,
Make effort double to look smart,
I may not care and also respect,
Teacher and senior when they inspect, ,
Still you never mention to my parents,
Never put remark And also prevent,
Still I not realize and continue to grow,
If teacher not around whistle I blow,
Still I find love and enough care,
Not good at study and not aware,
Should I fare bad never do a mail?
Papa and mummy may rush by rail,
They will Take me home if I fail,
Put me in room to serve in jail,
I make you a promise to be a good boy,
Learn and work hard and never make ploy,
My parents may get angry and not offer toy
So teacher please you not make them annoy
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ballade 2
In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
With every roast and mutton dish,
With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
With fresh and with salt-water fish,
Always, never asking, mustard.
I ordered herring, said I'd like
Carp for supper at the bar,
And called for simple boiled pike,
And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
The bus boy brought in with my mussels
As always, never asking, mustard.
I couldn't eat or drink without it.
They add it to the water they
Boil the fish in and-don't doubt it-
The drippings from the roast each day
Are tossed into a mustard vat
In which they're mixed, and then entrusted
To those who bring-they're trained at that-
Always, never asking, mustard.
Prince, it's clear a spice like clove
can drop its guard. It won't be busted.
There's just one thing these people serve:
Always, never asking, mustard.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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A different type of homework
Being a science student I attended cookery class for only one term
(3 months) in Class 8th...This poem is a small contribution for the
Cookery Class when we had to make Cookies at home and take
them to school for checking/inspection :) I have tried to make it a
funny poem :)
I was given homework to do,
a good presentation I made.
Next day I showed it too,
and all my friends admired.
My teacher came to inspect it,
and she sniffed it like a puppy.
Then she took a small bite,
chewed it and looked happy.
She took another bigger piece,
munching away and smiling.
I watched not feeling nice,
seeing my homework disappearing.
Soon she had finished it all,
I stood with my mouth agape.
My homework seems vitamins full,
that a teacher ate it with a burp?
Normal marking of assignment is to make you pass,
What of tasting and then eating your homework?
Your marking is done like this in class!
in cookery class the teacher eats your work. :)
renukakkar 28.10.2011
Copyright@2011
poem by Renu Kakkar
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My Stories Of You (chapter five)
I flame a million words of my pathetic love,
meant for you, they have no purpose in living
in my mind.
These days,
I demolish the shrines of the goddess of love
and make graves where I hide my beautiful memories of you and me.
I used to collect your feminin scent in bottles of transparent glass,
because I was insanely in love with you,
and I still am, why else would I write you these chapters.
But I'm somewhat different from what I was,
I'm a warrior now, like Hector of Troy,
battling mirages of you, in this war of broken hearts.
If by any chance, you happen to read this,
know that I'm not sad or mad
it was a nice day today,
drinking coffe with you, and giving you a kiss, a simple one, but at the same time,
all that I need,
to live another day.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Where they belonged
When I was in metric
(now grade twelve)
in the agricultural science class
an English girl took a chair
next to me
who had a secret crush
without getting
any attention from me.
I just wasn’t taken with her
and she was a little brash
and they lived
on the other side
of the railway tracks
and she had a reputation
of sleeping around.
When we studied
animal copulation
she acted as if
she didn’t really understand
and asked me some questions
which made me blush
and it was clear
that she had other plans instead.
Ignoring her didn’t help much
and heart broken she went to cry
on her sister’s shoulder
who was my class teacher
and taught me English
at the time.
We did an IQ test
(the first in my years at school)
and I scored only too well
and without really knowing
my personal circumstances
the teacher told the class
that I was lazy,
but much more than that
she marked my English grades down.
I didn’t know what had got into her
and in the second quarter
like a angel from heaven
a female inspector
(specializing in English)
visited the school.
She couldn’t understand
why my marks had slipped so much
and we had a very nice chat
where she demanded
all my English books and tests.
She graded everything again,
my grades took a hike,
the teacher was called in
and almost did the same
and after that
my grades were where
they belonged.
poem by Gert Strydom
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No Chance
It must be nice to be steady, it must be nice to be firm
It must be nice never to move off the mark
It must be nice to be dependable and never let anyone down
It must be great to be all the things you're not
It must be great to be all the things that I'm not
I see you in the hospital your humor is intact
I'm embarrassed by the strength I seem to lack
If I was in your shoes
so strange that I'm not
I'd fold up in a minute and a half
and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
It must be nice to be normal it must be nice to be cold
It must be nice not to have to go oh up or down
But me I'm all emotional no matter how I try
you're gone and I'm still here alive
and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
No - I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
There are things we say we wish we knew and in fact we never do
But I'd wish I'd known that you were going to die
Then I wouldn't feel so stupid, such a fool that I didn't call
And I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
No there's no logic to this - who's picked to stay or go
If you think too hard it only makes you mad
But your optimism made me think you really had it beat
So I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.
quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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Duties Of A Teacher
The everyday duties of a teacher
Are as difficult as they can be,
Whether in an elementary or secondary school
Or whether the teacher is a he or she.
The teacher must possess a bundle of information,
A knowledge that will constantly shine,
And in addition must maintain class discipline
To keep all the students properly in line.
There are insurmountable number of questions
To be answered during every period of the day,
And test papers must be carefully graded when
The students leave and go merrily on their way.
The pleasures and encounters of an evening out
Are few and seldom to be socially shared,
Because the next day's lessons must have priority,
Be reviewed and lessons carefully prepared.
A dedicated teacher gets a personal satisfaction
In this cumbersome and timeless atmosphere.
The role of a teacher is vital in this complex world,
Preparing all students for a future career.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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I Better Be Good
If I ain't cool
My daddy gonna send me
To Military School
If I ain't nice
My girlie gonna freeze me
With cold shoulder ice
If I'm real late
My teacher gonna use me
For alligator bait
So, I better be good
I better be good
If I jump on the gas
The cops are gonna jump
All over my back
If I smoke too much
Doctor says he's gonna
Put my lungs in a crutch
If I'm caught without my pants
Consuelo's dad is gonna shoot
Until he sees me dance
So, I better be good
I had better be good
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
You better be nice tonight
If I spray it on the seat
Lady gonna tie a big knot
In the meat
If I spewey too fast
Lover's gonna stick
My Wrangler in a cast
If zipper grabs skin
I'll know I had it out
When I shoulda kept it in
Ow.
I better be good
I better be good
I better be good
Ooh.
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
You better be nice
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - you better be
Nice, nice, nice - Uh, uh, uh, uh
Nice, nice, nice
I'd better be nice tonight - yeah
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
Nice, nice, nice
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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one day at school, Korea (1801)
I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes
and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
and I really can’t remember the first five letters
or the first five characters
when I lie in bed
and when I am back in class Sir
dragged in by Old Madam Toothless Bong
who always knows where I am wherever I try to run
I can’t remember anything anyone taught me, Sir
most venerable teacher...
I know Sir
all of you have spoken to me
and my dad and my mom
and Old Madam Toothless Bong
and all my friends in class
I must study so I can go to the city and find work
but alI I want to do, Sir
most venerable teacher
is to play and eat and sleep when it is time
and one day, Sir
most venerable teacher
(I know you worry about me)
when I’m grown and big
I’ll make toys and I’ll sell them
and make money for me and my family;
and I’ll make all those sweets and dumplings
and feed my family...
so please, Sir
most venerable teacher
because I don’t like school
and I can’t remember anything
do not worry about me and let me go to the fields now
and I shall grow to be tall as the trees
and as rich as the rice fields...
________________ _________________________
poem based on painting: “Seodang”
(private elementary school in town)
by Kim Hong-do, Danwon (1745-1806)
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Oh Teacher
Every season of my life
People say it , she go far
I exceeded what as needed
Do you wanna know what I came here for
Turn the lights way down
I will find you somewhere in the dark
Im lying with you , youre lying with me
I want to show you what I know so far
By doing it right
Im working on my design
Im making love with a friend of mine
I wanna do it , Ill get you through it
Theres nothing to it
You wont be leaving me with a star
Oh teacher , you get the test of my love
No matter what you learn
Oh teacher you got the best time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Oh teacher , you made me study all night
After the end of term
Oh teacher ,youve got the first time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Walk , think , act
As the book to you defines
Reach out for the one you love
It may be someone you left behind
Youre the reason that I breathe
Youre the savior of my nights
Did I leave you without a lover
But I never let you out of sight
Youre gonna be mine
Ive got a wider range
We keep the system but the rules may change
My lips are wetter , I do it better
And if you let me I can help you grow
Baby , dont say no
Oh teacher , you get the test of my love
No matter what you learn
Oh teacher , youve got the best time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Oh teacher , you made me study all night
After the end of term
Oh teacher , youve got the first time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Talk , move , smile
Do it right
We know the way
Watch out for the danger lies
In any game that you wanna play
In any game
Oh teacher , you get the test of my love
No matter what you learn
Oh teacher , youve got the best time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Oh teacher , you made me study all night
After the end of term
Oh teacher , youve got the first time , the last time
But this time youre gonna get burned
Oh teacher , etc (fade)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hi I'm A Girl
Hi i'm a girl who wants to be presedent then i'll make people paint there faces pink because the red cheif wants me to and i really need your vote! ! ! ! Ok dalpal, said the teacher looking at me 'your not president yet....' 'ok i said' i mumbred 'i wish she was dead because i'm a poet and she dinny know it i can break a ryme almost everytime and........''QUITE DALPAL! ' Roared the teacher. Sorry but i have a dream....i am floating down the stream and i am ryming my heart out BUT YOU HAVE TO RUNE IT AND SHOUT! i shouted! 'ok dalpal then you can be our new teacher miss.Honey' said the teacher raising her eyebrows. 'i was not ashamed i was quite exited to share mt poems with the class' so i mad my was up the top of my class and said ' if this is this and that is that then you and you = me and me you see. The class stared and thought then i could hear the aaaaawww! They still never knew what i was talking about so i contiued.' the Teacher were cross and me ed fell off thats called london English oh if only there was a thig calle dsinglish and....'OK WELL DONE YOU'V MANAGED TO CONFUZE MY CLASS'said the teacher SO THERE I'V OUT SMATRNED HER and i'ma peot and know she knows it! '
poem by Dalpal Honey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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