Writing Life Literary Programmes
my wishes
have already
come true
I got to personally
write a literary
programme for several
grade levels
and teach
an English
A literary
programme
creatively
with the best
school English students
for three years
I quietly got
to watch old Harris
run off to tell
principal
Graig Mowday
sometimes
several
times
a week
tell principal
the level
was too hard
aiming too high
attempting too much
doomed to fail
it was
but it was
my major
they were my students
it was not just English
skills but also life skills
I wanted to teach
and they not only
eventually achieved
average high grades
but a little of the finest
written English literature
embedded with life lessons
passed through their minds
now many are successful
at university
preparing to take
responsibility
for their own lives
their own futures
write their dreams
across interwoven webs
illuminating life purposes
unique their own lives
each worked so hard
gave so much
truly I was blessed
with privilege chance
to see their hopes
share their dreams fears
this was everything
everything I worked for
I lived my dreams
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Tea Party with Principal Sir! !
What a nice tea party!
Cakes and coffee
Organized at Bangladesh International School & College
For the meritorious students of this school
Oh! Our Principal Sir Col Md Anisur Rahman Chowdhury!
Encourages the students very much
Give us rising hopes
Guides us to the right path as a good human being
What a talented person he is!
He has many dreams with this school!
Scholarship and Talent batch are being awarded by Him to the students!
Such a dedicated and hard working person he is!
We are trying our best to prove our talent!
Our Principal Sir is trying to make our country and school famous!
In such a way so that our country and school are known in the whole world!
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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The Classroom
you walk on by the classroom
day to day
but never think about
what’s in it
I know, I didn’t
not because you don’t care
cause it never entered your mined
you might wonder when you see the students
you might know that
they have to go to a “special”
classroom of there own
you might even know what’s
in the classroom
you don’t know what they
do in the classroom
the academics
the physical therapy
the carts and crafts
the culinary arts
most of all the life skills
sounds a lot like most of you classes
right
cause it is
so why not just stop on by
say hello to
the staff
the students
talk to one of the students for a while
they will teach you something
you’ll never learn anywhere else
the classroom will always be there
with students and staff
that will talk to you
watch them watch the students
you’ll learn a lot about life
let the classroom teach you something
let you teach the classroom,
that being “normal” is not
so different
teach that
please teach that
to the
classroom
for it will always be
just
a classroom with
students
staff
and a few students
who stopped on by
and
said hello
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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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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What Happened to Billy Ray?
As a matter of stature, this man is not very tall.
The stories he tells could fill a shopping mall.
Bill is a word technician in a local high school.
As an English teacher, he is nobody's fool.
Generations of students have learned at his feet.
They will not face the future being incomplete.
How many of us wished we'd had a teacher like Bill?
Thinking of my English teacher still gives me a chill.
Now Bill the Great also likes to fish from time to time.
According to him, his fishing ability is simply sublime.
He worked the worm like strumming a fine instrument.
The poor bass ending up on his hook was his testament.
I write this poem to honor a simple English teacher.
Oh by the way, he once was a country preacher.
Unappreciated by others, he left his current position.
Making more money became his new mission.
In 2006, he had a motorcycle accident that was very grim.
Thereafter, another in his life began to assimilate him.
Resistance proved futile as he had finally become the 'Borg.'
As a result, you'll find our relationship residing in the morgue.
poem by Manager Poet
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Gross stupidity
It was at a time
where you had
to wear a uniform to school,
had to cut your hair
to a predetermined length
and got caned
if you were naughty,
failed a test,
or sometimes
to let the teacher
enforce his will.
If you complained at home
about getting a hiding at school,
you would probably
get another there too
if you deserved it,
but if you were right,
were punished unfairly
or without a real cause
it was seen in a different light
and a teacher
or whoever the punisher was
would have to face
your father in a fight
and could easily
be hit into hospital.
School regulations stipulated
that you couldn’t receive
more than six whippings on a day,
but at Estcourt high school
on my first day
at the new school
in standard nine (now grade eleven)
I received twelve.
We were lining up
to go to the hall
and a prefect told me
to cut my hair
which were just a bit
longer than how
they wanted it.
I said that I would
and while we were walking
to the entrance of the hall
I was told the same thing
over and over again.
On the eighth time
I told the English prefect
in Afrikaans
not to catch the pip
which was a Afrikaans adage
for do not catch a fit.
He told me to repeat
what I had said,
which I did
and thought
that I was cursing him
and took me
to the Headboy
who was English.
Where I had to repeat
myself again
and I did
as believed in telling
the truth.
The head boy took me
to the principal,
(Mister Robert Smith) ,
who thought
that I was saying
something like
go and play
with your member.
He called in the
vice-principal
(another Englishman) ,
a man with a red beard,
who was convinced
that I was cursing,
who shoved my head
under a table
and whipped me six times.
When I explained what it meant
they didn’t believe me
and called in a teacher
who taught Afrikaans
and the principal gave me
another six whippings
for being insubordinate
and wanted to expel me
if I didn’t have my hair cut
on by the next day.
I didn’t tell my stepfather
(who wasn’t a dad to me) ,
but even he
would have sorted
the headmaster
and vice-principal out
and it would have been
the Anglo-Boer war
all over again.
At the time I thought
that I was grossly stupid,
but thinking back
the headmaster and vice-principal
was probably more so.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I had art as a major, along with English, French and History. I had dance, modern dance. In English I was allowed to write my own poetry, which I eventually got published.
quote by Sally Kirkland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bleeds Through: Bringer of Modern Clarity
What has the world come to today?
Gas is four dollars a gallon
Inflation is on the increase
Housing markets down
The war continues
And teachers are suffering job loss!
In grade school,
I thought my teachers were evil
They slept inside coffins in the schools basement
Only to rise when they heard my name called
It was a hell for me
When I turned sixteen
I realized how hard it was to be a teacher
With several students under them, three-hundred or more
Makes you wonder why governments are making it harder for them
The classes I suffered through in college taught me the skills I needed
I learned how to apply them later while observing
I admit, I wasn't perfect my first year of teaching
But I learned quick
Why ruin education?
Harder classes for students and less teachers to help
Sure make the classes harder, challenge the students!
Why challenge the teachers?
Twenty-five was my size of classes all my years of learning
Thirty plus is too much to handle effectively
To watch the progress of each through grades in elementary school is unrealistic
It conflicts with my psychology courses with watching only grades
A dying profession the teacher is
Optimism is my muse and savior
To teach the future leaders and core of the worlds work force
Is the only thing keeping me going
Thank you my students
'Good morning class, lets turn to page twenty-four in our math books! '
March 14,2012
poem by Ryan Collins
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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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It is no exaggeration to say that the English Bible is, next to Shakespeare, the greatest work in English literature, and that it will have much more influence than even Shakespeare upon the written and spoken language of the English race.
quote by Lafcadio Hearn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finglish
I am from Finland and i speak 'Finglish'!
Because i am learning the English language and,
It always infuses with my Finnish.
I am learning to keep me going but,
I do speak my English like 'Finglish'! !
And i always try to enforce the truth of my peace like,
The subconscious act from my mind to muse up things:
But i am unaware of your love.
Try to keep me informed on this love and,
Try to teach me the English language so that i cam be with you;
For the heavens and the earth do know how i do speak.
Keep me on the tracks of your love and teach me more!
For one day i will learn the English language very well;
And i will be ready to teach you my Finnish language as well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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O The Pressures Of School
O the pressures of school
It is so heavy I feel like a mule
Slave everyday
I do not want to stay
O the pressures of school
The teachers know everything
And we know nothing
Choosing is not a choice
We are taught to be successful from people who are not
Just wish to be and wish us to be
But they know most of us will fail
Because we will bail
And live in jail
So we can tell our tale
Of how badly we wanted to prevail
But the pressures of school were too great
I don’t think they remember what its like to be in high school
Don’t they remember the pressures from their teachers to be better?
From there students to do drugs and smoke?
To choose to do shit that makes pressures go away but bring some different pressures?
At least we have a choice to do that shit
I think that’s where kids get caught
Choice, freedom, rebel…
Sweet sounds for a teenager worth the price
We hold the dice when it comes to these decisions
Finally we can control something
We are our own bosses
Yes we may loose
But lucky seven
Will take us to heaven
It is not easy finishing school
We are also just starting our complicated lives
Yes we need some guidance
But we don’t need to be on a choke hold
We don’t want to do what we’re told
We have pressures from society
From our family
From the academy
Hell we even have pressures from the TV!
Yet they still don’t see the large burden they put on our shoulders
They think, ‘what can some more pressure do?
Besides this pressure is good for you.’
All I want to do is write poetry
It is my drug
So I don’t have the pressures of taking drugs
It is my addiction
So I don’t need any smokes
It is in my family
So I don’t need pressures from my family
It is even my TV
So I don’t need a TV
So I can tell myself how I am supposed to look and how I am supposed to live my life
It is all I want from school
I know my English and I know how I feel
So I don’t need the pressures of school
All you need to be a poet
Is to turn your feelings into words
You don’t have to be successful
As long as it feeds you’re own pressures rather than the pressures of society
Yet O the pressures of school are so great
I cannot escape
Until their pressures are obliterate
poem by Fidelis Patronus
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English is a mixture
English is a mixture
You can see in theatre
English is neither paternal
Nor maternal
No word no grammer
Make english finer
Uniformity english
Make life accomplished.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Writing in English was a major challenge. I didn't want other songwriters to write for me. I wanted to preserve the spirit of my songs in Spanish. I am the same Shakira in English as I am in Spanish.
The Luck Of The Irish
Ok, one, two, three, one two, three
If you had the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
A thousand years of torture and hunger,
Drove the people away from their land.
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands!
Goddamned!
Goddamned!
If you could keep voices like flowers,
There's be shamrock all over the world.
If you could drink dreams like irish streams,
Then the world would be as high as the mountain of morn.
In the 'pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land.
Of the pain and the death and the glory
And the poets of auld eireland.
If we could make chains with the morning dew,
The world would be like galway bay.
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns,
The world would be one big blarney stone.
Why the hell are the english there anyway?
As they kill with god on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the i.r.a.
As the bastards commit genocide!
Aye! aye!
Genocide!
Okay!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead.
One more time!
You should have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead.
You should have the luck of the irish,
And you'd wish you was english instead,
Hey, yes, you'd wish you were english instead.
- "thank you!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Most Beloved School-Teacher, Mr. B.E. Coates
Dressed in coat and suit and tie,
Anglo-Indian Teacher my;
Wearing shoes with shine always;
Tall in stature, meek, honest, Ayes!
Speaking English in great style;
Punctual, walking ev’n a mile;
Teaching subjects ardently;
A gentle-man seen, quite rarely!
He taught us English with great care,
Like how Englishmen would dare;
Its nuances, he laid thread-bare,
Pronouncing with Anglo-air!
He made the class so interesting;
Chiding mischief, not punishing;
A pious man who forgave fast;
Advising students till the last.
He was my class-teacher at times;
And read us poetry with rhymes;
He taught us Geography as well;
‘Be hard-working, ’ he’d always tell.
Because of him, I loved English,
And rose to levels, many wish;
He taught us Catechism too,
And say in life, ‘How do you do? ’
My teacher most-beloved was he;
He fanned my sparks of poesy!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-11-2007
Dedicated most lovingly to
Master BE Coates, CGMS, CBE
poem by John Celes
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A Dream I Have To Write
A dream
I have to write
On the wooden slate
Of a child
Playing traunt from the school.
A moon
I have to write
On the forehead
Of a woman
Swarthier than evetide darkness.
A song
I have to write
On the frozen lips
of the wind
Passing through
A bamboo forest.
A name
I have to write
On an unmarked
Grave stone
In a memorial cemetry.
(Translated from Urdu to English by Dr. Satyapal Anand and from English to Spanish by Dr. Teresinka Pereira)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Edgar Allan Poe
An American literary icon but what caused his death none seem to know
He was more than a man of words the great Edgar Allan Poe
He died when in his forties his best writing years of him ahead
His fame has attained greatness and he is widely read.
Most writers in their forties have scarcely reached their writing prime
His marvellous poem 'The Raven' has not faded out in time
A writer for all ages and one of literary note
And many who love literature have him as their favourite poet.
In life he was quite famous in death greatness he did attain
As an immortal literary gem 'The Raven' does remain
In the English speaking Countries of the World from North to Southern shore
His writings remain popular and his readers now far more
Than he had in his lifetime his genius is living on
Whilst millions of his contemporaries to obscurity have gone
Despite the passing of time his literary legend grow
Though in his too brief life span few him did wish to know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My English Teacher
At the grade three
A new teacher came
Around her table
A queue we were all in
Having exercise books on our hands
To get written our names on it
Twining with aroma of her perfume
Let the mind not go back to the bench
My English teacher
Not like other teachers
Wearing new dresses
Pleasant smile with snazzy
I bought a double rule book
To write proper English letters
Putting the alphabet of base
Following day had a message
No more with us
Principle's words
Teacher came to us
We cried a lot
"Why may teacher you go leaving us'
'Is our school not good'
While worshiping on her feet
Without an answer
Looking at us
Touched our heads
She got a transfer
Because of our remote dry school
Since then on
Until primary end
Without an English teacher
My texts books were new
She doesn't know me for sure
Placed an aroma still in my mind
You wrote that name of mine
I am writing today.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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And With Faith....
i have tried, especially in my later years,
to surround myself with people who know
more than i do, whose understanding is
deeper...
people of diverse backgrounds, who hold
strong opinions... strongwilled people, who
are not afraid to speak and to stand...
and i've worked hard on learning the art
of listening... you'd be amazed what there
is to hear!
especially old people, who've worked and
struggled for years, passionate people with
dreams, hopes, and needs.
what i write is a mixture of my journey and
theirs.... but arent all journeys interwoven?
it seems i'm in constant contact with god,
in various forms, simple acts, usually when
least expected.
i guess what i'm trying to say is thank you...
something i think we all forget to do.
let us live these waning moments with passion,
with storm, with gratitude, and with faith!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Education A Lost Cause
Education A Lost Cause
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted Feb.2010
Education was importion at one time,
now it is on the back burner not importation.
In the U.S.A. we ranked number one in education,
now in the U.S.A. we rank 13th in education.
Americans cannot even comprehend English language
besides math or science even sex education.
Americans talk with text or iming words thinking that the English language
when Americans today are alliterate cannot read or write even do math.
Our states even government wants to take away
12th grade from high school what's next?
11TH grade than no high school suppose to be going forward not backwards.
So we need to fix education and our government,
because education comes first and the fat cats like the senators,
and the congressman come last no more free rides plus free dinners.
We need to rank number one in education again!
poem by Lori Triggs
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