The New Teacher
he prides himself about
this job
where he is all wise
and his students listen
he drives the points
like he's the hammer to
his nails
somehow the old teacher
listens
it is not supposed to
be
he picks a snail
a house actually where the hermit
crab lives
he whistles and the crab comes
out
learning the song of the
master
the wind, soft as breeze
the openness like the wide gate
of the morning sun
between the breasts of the hills
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
No Crab
Whether it's Crab soup,
or whether it's crab cakes,
whether it's crab puffs
or whether it's crab flakes
crab gumbo or crab dressing,
it's all the same to me,
for crab is crab is crab
and I detest the taste.
poem by Ruth Walters
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Manteca
Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grinning Crab
Come with me, said the fish to the crab
and I will show you a cave where beautiful coral live.
When do we leave, said the crab to the fish
and tell me what I should bring.
Just bring a sense of adventure, said the fish to the crab, and some sun tan oil
You forget, said the crab to the fish, my shell is thick and impenetrable by rays of any kind.
What about the metal-tipped arrows, asked the fish of the crab, from a cheeky cherub?
Oh they don’t stand a chance, said the crab with a grin.
The fish, having eyes that could not blink, felt the molten tears sting his star-crossed eyes.
poem by Vernon Adrian Emuang
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The Hermit Crab
The hermit crabs life is all but exciting live all alone
and in the sahdows in the bottom of the teary sea
feelings no comfort and no love this crab is all alone
no friends and allways hurting everyone
he use to have friends till the day he found him self this shell of dark sleeping alone
and being alone this crab used that bad to fell worse
we the other crabs of life the ones that live a full happy life
need to find him/her and bring this hermit out of it's shell
show to the hermit that talking isn't all bad
but being alone is talk about your problems dont hide in a shell
Sand crab follows Hot
Chilli crab he knows, beaut
like the tide, shore thing
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Walk straight, my son - as the old crab said to the young crab.
You Made Me Choose
it was a case of choosing
a stone, a snail, a hammer
i chose the hammer
just that
i never used it to drive a nail
to smash a snail
to break a stone
i chose the hammer and kept it
just that
i left it in the house
(bought a house five years ago)
i walked away
and then i whistled my way
in the woods
just that
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Under The Night Sea
By the night sea
The palm trees sway in the breeze
There's an adventure under the night sea
So I jump into the sea
And swim underwater
Though it's hard to see underwater
I can see my friend, the hermit crab
He communicates with me and offers me
a ride
As we walk along the sea's floor
We happen to come across a sunken ship
And we both decide to explore it
Inside, gold coins are here, there,
and everywhere
I pocket a couple of them for souvenier
purposes
As we leave the ship
I communicate in a way of saying goodbye
to my hermit crab friend
I must continue to my journey though
And he knows it
He accepts my decision
But I hope someday I'll see him again
Through the night sea
Reaching places that I can reach
Places that my hermit crab friend can't
reach
Continuing on
Swimming along
A big fish waves its fin at me
And me and him become a team
Riding on this back
He speeds through the night sea
Outswimming the tadpoles
And thinking smartly to get us past
all the traps
Reaching a point where he can't go
any further
I get the message that it's on me to
continue
On my own
And so I get off his back
And we wave to each other
Before he swims away
Climbing out of the night sea
On to a small piece of land
I catch my breath
A frog hops out of the water
And offers me a ride on his back
Wanting to help me reach the end
And so we head back into the night sea
Swimming past all the twisted coral
Reaching the end of the night sea
I get off the frog's back
And on to dry land
I wish him well
As he submerges and quickly swims away
I make my way over to a palm tree
With as much strength as I have left
And sit beside it
Reflecting on my adventure under the night sea
As well as clutching the gold coins from
the sunken ship in my pocket
And being in a dream-like state of mind
poem by Justin Gildow
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Segurista (wary)
================================================= ===========
he hermit crab crawls
always carrying its small shell house
fearing that there might be fire on the shore
==================================== ========================
umang nga gakamang kanunay
dala-dala ang iyang balay-gamay
kay hadlok masunog ang baybay
=================================== =========================
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Green Circle
You are peeling me off
like a crab.
Time has sunk very low.
For the hungry kids
who was growing crab apples?
Creating art,
arriving between the pubes.
A microfossil
roosting within me.
I could live without oxygen.
Incandescent,
the liquid wounds.
I will not send any salvo.
poem by Satish Verma
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Some whistles
Some whistles do frighten me like
That policeman’s whistle when I jaywalk,
That lewd whistle from an ill-mannered man
Pestering a sexy woman is another thing,
It is so demeaning, unkind, uncalled for
Some mean order like a teacher’s whistle
On a P.E. class to start an exercise in school
Or a kindergarten teacher whistling children to fall in line,
But one whistle really so intrigues me,
The whistle of a young man outside the gate
Of this house, on unholy hours of the night,
While I am writing poetry, this guy whistles
And whistles some curious songs in intermittent notes
Like a love song of a nightingale,
So sensual, so seductive, so magical, almost
Three times a night three times a week,
Till one day, my domestic helper got confused, and comes for my advice,
Why her stomach is mysteriously bloated.
You guessed it right, that magical whistle made her pregnant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Night In The Wilderness
I could he sitting on the left of you.
Youd be looking straight ahead.
If I was adrift right across from you,
You still would cut me dead.
Ive had better deep discussions
With this plate of soft-shelled crab.
Id put some spice in your rice.
Youd give me blues in the stew.
Id give you catfish jumping.
Youd give me all this work to do.
Whos got the cheque on this hot dinner?
Whos got the tabs on the crab?
Another night in the wilderness:
Should have been a night on the town.
Lesson in learning how to hold a conversation down.
Im in splendid isolation, feel that heavy silence fall.
Got all this cut out for me to do.
Another night in the wilderness of you.
Here I am drinking you with my eyes.
Youre looking at the gravy on my bib.
I go weak-kneed at the suggestion of you.
Whats wrong with the cut of my jib?
Is there a lobster in the offing, or just a fifty dollar cheque?
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Voice...by jojobean & David Harris
There Is A Voice
Written by JoJo Bean and David Harris
There is a voice in every form
A song in every breeze
Just listen to the thunderous storm
The wind that whistles in the trees
Or have you heard the oceans cry
And the hush of a bird on wing
Happiness in the morning dawn
And sadness that the end of day brings
Listen with your senses
At the voices all around
And hear about our world
Through the voices of its song
Learn to listen
With your mind’s eye
Whenever you watch a small bird
Wing its way across the sky
16-17 January 2008
Traces
Each day is filled with tiny traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
And crab holes when the tide is low
Each breath exhaled and new step taken
Leaves markings not to be erased
Small cherished patterns fain forsaken
In nature’s cunning woven lace
The crumbs that fall from modest tables
Are soon retrieved by little ants
A spider’s web the stuff of fables
Embraces woodland’s lushest plants
We make a difference as we wander
Among the throng and rush of day
Our every movement filled with wonder
Touched by a gentle force at play
When pride and prejudice surround us
And things are quite beyond control
Just look at lowly trusting creatures
Their humble ways refresh the soul
No need to faint when your tracks wither
In heat of sun and loss of hope
That pearly snail keeps creeping hither
While deer and crabs still run and grope
Each day we live we leave small traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
Or crab holes when the tide is low.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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A White Flower Blooms Against A Blue Sky
let me not think that sooner
this flower shall wilt
let me fathom the secret beauty
of its whiteness
against the blue sky
let me savor the opening of its petals
in slow motion
let me think of time that way
let me not be the rushing of the air
let me move like a snail
let me taste the delicious syrup of the honeybee
the white flower
the purity of your intentions
the blue sky
the beauty of your sorrow
time like a scallop
seasons like seaweeds
the hermit crab moving and meeting the huge wave
foams, and murkiness, and then you wonder where are these things
these thoughts
after a storm.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Good teacher
A Good teacher is one, who teaches with love.
A Good teacher is one, who Corrects Students and make them Grow, Instead of shouting and making them slow.
A Good teacher is one, who makes Things to Flow.
A Good teacher is one, who gets things done as and when.
A Good teacher is one, who never treats a student as Foe.
A Good teacher is one, who Teachings must help in long Run.
A Good teacher is one, who says always it can be done.
A Good teacher is one, who should never make students Run, Instead have Great Fun.
A Good teacher is one, who must be always Bright and Teach Students Right.
A Good teacher is one, who is always a best Friend
poem by Narendra Kuppan
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Teacher’s Day Verses (A Pot Pourri)
Most teachers teach;
And some do preach;
Not all can reach
The pupil each!
On ‘Teachers’ Day’
Students must say,
‘From heart, we thank you, aye,
for showing us life’s way! ’
Teachers are mostly right;
Pupils should never fight;
They show all wisdom’s light
With selflessness and might.
Each teacher is God’s gift,
Who gives us our life’s lift;
And warns us not to drift
Away, from learning shift!
Our teachers help us learn;
Sometimes they are quite stern;
The mid-night oil, we burn;
Our learning helps us earn;
There are some hearts that care,
And show love that is rare
Like parents, and knowledge share;
And smile, when students well fare.
Let students thank God
For teachers’ precepts, rod;
They must always nod
To teacher’s every word.
Our teachers mean a lot;
In life, they change our lot,
And prevent us from rot;
To thank them, we all ought.
Our Teachers give the spark
That lights our lives quite dark;
They keep us on the mark
Like guardian angels, Hark!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-4-2008
poem by John Celes
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