These teachers they win the young hearts
And become their icon within,
Though a few scorn and others frown,
These master of words remain teachers to all.
They become long lost elder brothers,
Or grave seniors who educate not only teach.
The teacher without names is incomplete though,
Adding to their grace are those who love or scorn the face,
The names or opinions are hidden from the person only,
The attendance and attention do depend
On these invisible evaluation however inappropriate.
But they are teachers still.
Their words inspire and paints
A minute picture of the literary works anew.
The language difficult at times does preach hell;
But gives them delight who deals with them.
The rhyme, the meter, the rhetoric and the rest
Intoxicate the pupils in a haze.
The closest to us in terms of age,
The new teachers really are the best.
The grumpy ones, misunderstood and ignored by the new blood;
Truly hold the purest elixir of knowledge.
Years roll by quick, the reformed youths are claimed by higher knowledge.
The teacher is seen less and less as if preparing for the inevitable parting.
Like the aging wine their advices now sink in deep.
Having teachers such great reflects so long after leave,
One has to think, "Our time together was great,
May you achieve immortality and carry on your bright flames."
And so I pray that you be well and you shine bright,
Till i stand before you again and pay my love forward.
The good, the bad, the confused me in all my states,
You have seen and were there for me.
The librarians, the technician, the officials, the guards and seniors,
You were also among the best teachers i could hope for.
YOU ARE READING
The Three Years
PoesíaThe following is a edited version of a long poem describing my years in college. The poem was delivered on the occasion of Teacher's Day celebration in front of my respected teachers in the year 2018. The poem has been divided into different parts f...
