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Poems On / About TEACHER  8/4/2015 8:47:57 AM
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As A Child

My child hood as I grew up was so vary hard, the youngest age that I can remember as a child was nine years old, in I can only remember that because its the year that my mother died, life was vary unfair as a child, as I got a little older my school had a mother daughters day fair, what was I to say to my teacher at eleven years old, so I said nothing to anyone in did not show, in I came to school the next day just to be teased by my class mates, I could only cry all day long as the teacher did or said nothing, I wanted to go home, but she would not let me, she said that kids will be kids to me, but its not the same when you are a kid your self, In I still think that she didnt understand, I knew about sticks-n-stones but who cares about that at eleven years old, all I knew was that it hurt to be teased that you do not have a mother. It brings tears to my eyes everyday to no that I still have nightmares about that day.
Sanita, Lawon Lay

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My College

I do remember every pretty face Over there, I do remember my colleagues' pretty Smiles and laughs, I do remember the first day I was over there, I do remember my whole teachers One by one, I do remember my whole books Over there, I do keep in my mind Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, Under The Greenwood Tree's Thomas Hardy,....,.... I do remember that pretty building Which contained my college, I do remember the pretty days and The pretty walks with Ahmad Rami, Mohammad Yousef, Abu Ibrahim,...., And George,..., I do keep in my mind all these pretty Memories of being a freshman at that time, I am today looking for all that is good To be again with the pretty memories of My pretty college and all that it contained, Days took me away looking for my pretty memories And for days are still in my brain, I never forget those days we spent together With all my pretty colleagues at that time, I love my college, I love my colleagues, I love my whole teachers, I love all my books, I love all my pretty memories over there, I love the pretty sea that was a pretty friend All of us and I love everyone and everything over there.

Read more poems from MOHAMMAD SKATI >>>



My Teacher

That brilliant star that shines With love and knowledge, My teacher is that candle That burns to light our path, That great man who sacrifices All his or her entity to make us Different, educated, and straight, He teaches us the meaning of words, The meaning of numbers, and the meaning Of love anytime, anywhere, and everywhere, He gives all that we need in life And his pretty knowledge lights up our path, He never abandons his duties because He is a true, honest, and great man, He gives us all that we need in life, so We're different with his true giving, He lights up our knowledge with a lot Of pretty sciences and great love, He gives more than what he takes because He is a great giver to all generations, My teacher is my pretty example that I respect and I estimate very well, so He is the man who remains the real Image in life for me and for everyone.

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! ! Two Birds On The Same Tree

Two birds rest on the same tree;
their eyes are bright;

they look alike; yet one
is the Teacher; one the Student;

the Student tastes all the many fruits
upon that tree; the Teacher sits, just watches,

filled with love and pride;
the eyes of both are bright;

when the Student has tasted all,
the Teacher asks what has been learnt; for

only the Teacher knows within their heart:
that now the Student is the teacher;

the Teacher listens as a student;
the Student speaks now as a teacher

who has learned this of themself;
the Teacher’s eyes are bright:

knowing that to live it through
shows the knowledge to be true;

the Student is teaching the Teacher now, of
how to teach; the Teacher glows to know

the Student may surpass the Teacher;
knowledge shines from both their eyes;

who is the more glorious of these two
who share both the same name?

who rejoice to need the other;
who rejoice to be the other;

now they are silent; now the tree’s rejoicing too;
Its roots above; its fruits below;

its leaves, a shelter;
its branches, home.


[ Leaning on a poem of Kabir: Indian readers will be familiar with
'two birds in a tree' as a metaphor for acting with detachment; Kabir takes this further, into knowledge gained from wise action...]
Michael Shepherd

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