Also Music Education

This one was for Music Education class, part of a visual representation of the master teacher:

The typhoon of her family, the volcanic isle

Leaving scars hidden beneath the feigned half-smile

Or the strong headed youth in the wrong part of town

Lost in the violent waves with naught but to drown

There’s found the Master Teacher in the midst of the pyre

With the stability she craves and the safety he desires

Here she wishes to be more than a pool

But a sea or an ocean with the world her foot stool

Here his eyes droop too low into stagnant bay

Bereft the chance to dive head first in the foray

There’s seen the Master Teacher with excitement to spare

And the knowledge to take her young mind from here to anywhere

Away she’s a lone ship miles from anyplace

That desires her fleet again, or even a familiar face

He too in isolation with none to call “friend”

Where to find the trust all need in one whom he can depend?

Here provides the Master Teacher, a choir of brothers

With Love and friendship, at last for each other

Now here’s the sad puddle, no Love for its kind

With not even a gram of self esteem to find

Conversely there’s the young rascal, who knew it all then

And now cares for naught but a few smokes and gin

There’s where the Master Teacher can give the rod he needs

Or the encouragement of value, and the desire to succeed

The result is perfection, whether it be sweep stakes or threes

The joys are the perfection, and the Master Teacher keeps these

For Music Education

This was for a class. I had to write a poem that described me. And every line had to begin with "I am"

I am sublime secrecy in silent Socratic speculation

I am a supernova of sunshine in the sour smelly smog

I am a soldier for Someone whose sentiment sought to save me

I am the sinner sinking in the sea, to surface once a saint

I am the satire to the superhero, and servant to the sorrow stricken

I am the slime on the sharpness, to slice and slip away

I am a sinister sorcerer who’s Savior softened with solace and sustenance

I am a mask of masculinity, and mockery of manliness

I am a Midionite and militant when made a murderous monster

I am massive in my mind when my malice might take management

I am the mite of a mouse before my mother’s madness

I am mediocre in mile making and modest in math

I am moved by meager-means and maddened by money

I am microscopic in the magnificent majesty of Music