You've got my heart in your hand When you look me in the eyes like that That's why I look at the walls or floors Or anywhere but the spirit of yours. Yes, your face is familiar but your soul is altered I'm looking for the one who connects like Gibraltar The Mediterraneans of my Mind to the Atlantics of my Heart End the conflicts, bring clarity sync with my conscience. You look like pleasure but you're camouflaged pain You look like sweet smile, but your subtle like salty tears
I have no head to write poetries, For my heart is convinced So are my veins and arteries That when it broke back one summer It should have shunned every romance No matter how secret or how platonic I need Emily, Byron, Keats Wordsworth, Tennyson maybe To learn again what makes A good poetry.
'Teaches and trains even the worst pupil Ever ready to help the student in troubled times Allows students to nurture their talents Chides and punishes justly Held in high esteem Exemplary and encouraging Remembers the pupil, forgets the name ’Selflessly serves society to the best of his/ her ability
Defends the weaker students against the robust Advises appropriately Yields to the highly intelligent student'