Freinds and Teachers

robertthecatrobertthecat Posts: 69
edited April 2005 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Will

The gift you are to me lingers
Within the dashes and blanks of a compass
That always reveals my position

The gift you are to me is a compass
Whose direction always faces upward
Marks my place on this earth here and now

The gift you are to me is a compass
Reminding me that the paths
Where I make this road
Were intended for my discovery
Because you have reminded me of my position

That unmarked territory is to be
Mapped by someone
And sometimes treasures lie within

That the unknown can be approached with tools
Because of you a trusted friend
Snug warmly in my pocket
Marking the place where I currently am
And where I intend to go

Andy

The gift you are to me stirs within water
this very same solution from where we all
have emerged from simple beings
to complex organisms handling
Stimuli of all sorts and differing environments

The gift you are to me extends like water
Whose shape shifts in any form
Effortlessly and certain
That changes and takes upon
Any from necessary given the environment

Water whose essence permeates through
Almost all things, mixing with them
And making something new

Water who acknowledges its importance
To all life, all things
And engages this responsibility
With passion, strength and softness
That is cherished

The gift you are to me is that after you
I am water and fluidity is a characteristic
That fits and serves me



Deborah

The gift you are to me moves like the wind
Swift and directed touching all things
Whose breath breathes life and freshness
To all things alive and those believed to be dead

The gift you are to me is the wind that
Makes all things dance
Creating amber waves of grain
Emerald crests among alpine treetops
Turquoise and sapphire rifts in babbling rivers
And endless oceans restless and moving

You who can rock solid steel
And make bricks shiver
You whose approach comes at
Times a thundering howl
And at times welcoming whisper

The gift you are to me is that you make me move
Though at times I am as solid as granite
I move with you, just like you
Like the wind.
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • So much for my spelling!
  • pearlmuttpearlmutt Posts: 392
    Good spelling is a gift from god, either he graced you with it or he didn't -- so I blame him when I spell seperate without its little rat -- when I don't I thank my mom. The schwa, the dreaded schwa, go to hell schwa.

    your poems are gifts from you (I know I'm sounding like a Halmark (sp?) card), but that's what I think. Really. I give mine out and call them presents all the time, the folks I give them to I think have a different name for them, but you know -- it's the thought that counts!

    And I have no idea where your spelling errors are

    This is silly story -- on the side for free, I'll try to make it a teacher poem to fit your title:

    Allergies

    Allergies are things
    that make kids
    sneeze
    according to them
    so are analogies.
    That's why
    I keep a fresh box
    of tissues
    in my room.

    And also because
    teaching analogies,
    that sound like allergies,
    (instead of poetry
    that sounds like fun to me)
    makes me want to cry,
    and that's hyperbole!
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