a poem for nature/amusement lovers
Teaching Strategies to Make Your Class More Fun
- Incorporate Mystery Into Your Lessons.
- Don’t Repeat Classroom Material.
- Create Classroom Games.
- Give Your Students Choices.
- Use Technology.
- Don’t Take Teaching so Seriously.
- Make Your Lessons Interactive.
- Relate Material to Your Students’ Lives.
Riding a mulish horse
Though fed and nurtured
By your own hand and passion.
A compeer in the long road,
Comparatist in the looks,
Superlative in behaviour,
Is like crossing a northern storm,
In swimming wear,
Is like crossing the sea,
On a surfing board,
Decorated with your best hometown landscape.
It is like crossing the desert on your
Onewheel-Pint-Electric-Skateboard – Sand,
And yet sand is one of its components.
It is like a boy,
Riding a flat bicycle,
For 20 long and slow miles,
To pass his exam.
It is like a gorgeous girl,
Studying a lot,
Working a lot,
And yet, she is fixed in beauty and use.
It is like drying the water of a flooding sea.
It is like continuously watering the desert,
Waiting for your tree.
Too great to overcome,
Admit your defeat,
See it as it is,
Insufferable a ride.
Others cannot dream of more than an easy plate of rice,
Wait for their series,
To be compassionate,
To ride the ‘unknown’,
To devour the harlots’ flesh,
To conquer and possess
The innocence of virginity,
Preserved innocently for long,
To be sold in a fleeing minute,
On a master’s table.
The defeat has been always the same,
When one dies,
Nothing will get them back,
Their words are used
Their memory fades away with time,
Washes their ashes with rain,
Leaving a shallow pain,
As soon as gone,
‘coz people cry for their own loss,
Not losing them,
Fear that same cold place,
That cold corpse,
That cold place,
Fear the unknown,
Shutting their sight
In a long cold night.
Born to die,
Tear by tear,
Drop by drop,
Tear by tear,
That is your lone fear,
Too stifling silence to bear.
But he who made that void,
Lived for vanity,
I sought your hand on my head,
I saw you in every dad,
I forced you in all men,
I loved you in them now and then,
I was the easy to offend,
The Fatherless one,
The worthless child,
Never enough by myself,
Until one day,
I opened my mental door
And cast you for good away.
But then, he made his silent exit,
A futile exit, without words,
From both sides.
I want to shout:
Creep with no dignity
You were dead in life,
1707, Rosalind lived in a mountain giant foot
The northern suburbs of an extension of a sheltering forest
She hated berries but only berries she had to eat
Such a small and pulpy wild fruit
Rounded and brightly coloured,
Sweet, sour in straw-blue-black
Likely red, for her tastes bad
Mum sang “Blueberries raw or baked in a pie;
Blueberry cobbler, muffins or juice;
It matters not the form I enjoy;
Blueberries keep me from being blue.”
At 17, never saw a man nor a horse
Before she first sang,
“When Love with unconfinèd wings
Hovers within my Gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the Grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,
The Gods that wanton in the Air,
Know no such Liberty.”
Cavalier verses inflames her virtues
When a Horseman rode and stood
To adorn her strawberry lips with his sweet song
That bronze young man on a stallion
Three powers in one,
Youth, arch and a horse
a song from the heart
that keeps the oath for more than one life.
2017, Charlotte eats a Mac,
Dates on a machine
Utters erotic syllables for 7 men,
Kisses all of them, only for the 7th day
Loves the man who comes to her on 7 horses.